A physicist's look at literature

Most physicists seem to appreciate literature, and I am no exception. As a result of this double love affair, I have paid especial attention to some areas in which these two perpectives on the world overlap. Sometimes an author uses logical puzzles or physical ideas in their narratives; other times, they somehow shed light on the significance of science as a human activity. Here I review some of the reads that have impressed me in this way.

First in my mind is the Argentinian writer Jorge Luis Borges, widely recognized as one of the most intriguing and accomplished authors of the last century. In common with many lesser writers, his short stories often refer to non-existing lands, books and animals. The difference is the way he approaches his subjects, using logical puzzles and a concise, direct style, which tend to be irresistible to scientists. I strongly recommend his collected stories, and as a taster I'll mention a couple. In one story he pictures a very peculiar library, containing all possible books of a certain length. In another one we are introduced to a man with a perfect memory, and come to appreciate the burden associated with it. Some of his stories question the nature of time. In 'The Garden of Forking Paths' he describes a never-ending labyrinth reminiscent of the conception of time arising in the many worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics.

Time appears again and again as a theme in literature. A curious novel dealing with this is 'Einstein's dreams' by Alan Lightman. He describes 30 different worlds appearing in the dreams of a certain patent clerk in early 20th-century Switzerland. In each of these fables time flows in a different way. All of them sound dreamy and fantastic, including one which will be very familiar to PI scientists.

Among writers in the English language, one high-profile author that interests me is Martin Amis. His novel 'Time's Arrow' starts with a person drawing his first breath out of the limbo of non-existence. Surprisingly, we're not talking about a baby here, but of a decrepit old man instead. From then on we accompany the character through his whole life, being experienced in reverse time-order for the amusement, or annoyance, of his own soul. All along, the soul/narrator tries to make sense of that particular life in real time, but in the wrong (or less usual) order. The reader slowly gets used to guessing 'future' causes from their consequences, and is led to ponder on themes such as ageing, free-will, and human relations. It is an experience at times unsettling and revealing, as good literature should be.

Amis has also reflected on ethical dilemmas associated with physics. 'Einstein's Monsters' is a collection of short stories, all more or less directly connected to the anxiety over atomic bombs. I find this a particularly welcome topic, as it seems that the general public grossly underestimates the dangers associated with nuclear weapons.

Of course, science fiction has for a long time raised scientific issues which became important in practice, sometimes surprisingly soon. Some of the so-called "science fiction" is actually better described as political allegories, or criticism of the dangers of the power granted by technology. In that vein, Aldous Huxley and George Orwell described future dystopias in which technology supports totalitarian governments. These books echo in Margaret Atwood's latest ('Orix and Crake'), where she discusses how genetic engineering of humans can result in challenges to current political theory and ethical thought.

With the heightened importance of science and technology in security and public policy, it seems that the border between mainstream literature and science fiction is becoming blurred. One example is the most recent book by William Gibson, who became very well-known as a science fiction writer. His 'Pattern recognition' is set in the present, and explores concepts such as pop and internet culture, consumerism, and the globalization of brands and memes. Similarly, Michael Crichton has for years been churning out best-sellers dealing with nano- and bio-technology and other technological developments.

An altogether different direction in which science and literature merge can be identified in some more recent popular science books. These go much further than just popularizing science; in 'Trilobite', for example, Richard Fortey includes auto-biographical elements in such a thoughtful way, that I think one can question whether the book is really just about science. Another example are the essays by Stephen Jay Gould, using scientific ideas to illustrate and argue about disparate subjects in history and social sciences. While Gould's style does not impress me particularly, I cannot deny that his books did inspire me in my teenage years, and I suppose also many other scientists-to-be.

I guess I could go on and on, discussing for example scientist-authors (Carl Djerassi, Barbara Kingsolver),scientist-characters (from Dr. Frankenstein to Bohr in the play 'Copenhagen'), or scientist-entertainers (Simon Singh with his 'Theatre of Science' project, the 'Cafe Scientifiques') . But I suppose it's time for me to go back to my 'scientist-scientist' affairs...