Since I must clearly freely admit that I do not have the technical training to assess the truth of the arguments, I must simply follow my custom of stating my reading of the style-- since I am, after all, a Livy fanboy.

And, in view of that object, I must say that, despite this book's premise that, since it is by the author of 'Alice', that it is a good book for beginners, I can say with some authority that it is not actually a good book for people who do not know-- i.e., speak-- math to read.

Then again, it is always difficult to speak clearly when one's 'room' is simply a space for static. ;)

Not strictly relevant, that last sentence, sorry-- it's just that I really tried to get the words just so on those first two, right, what I wanted to say, I mean, and I know that I had it, in my head, but since I scarcely hear myself think, I'm not quite sure that I got it all down right.... I mean, there's little point studying math if I can't have any etiquette from anyone.

But that wasn't the point; I apologize.

.... And anyway, all that I was trying to communicate is that, of what I understand, for example, the idea that this debate, this Victorian debate about education and textbooks and the classics and so on, and this response to it-- and I must say that sometimes the people who write these technical pieces for Barnes & Noble have a rather curious idea of what is and is not 'known outside of academic circles', or however they say it, since, the fact is, that that sort of thing is somewhat broader than that which is literally impossible to obtain unless you work for a university, but which goes into the bibliography anyway, for some reason-- is a necessity for contemporary purposes.... well, it's folly on the face of it now, at a glance, even, I mean.... although I guess that it wasn't last year when I actually got the thing. I don't know, there's no explaining some things. Sometimes you get in five minutes now what you'd not have gotten in five hours before.

And, you know, even I, without real specific knowledge of this, can tell that mathematics is so ahistorical that anything just historical is clearly a-mathematical.

(I mean, without trying to sound like one of these very confident people, it's still true that I'm not playing for Bazarov's football team-- pardon me the irony, it's just that I'd love to see Bazarov hurt himself trying to run around outside for any length of time-- and so I do believe that there is truth as opposed to what is not truth, and so clearly truth, truth in geometry, for example, does not depend on whether, say, Gladstone, got to be the man in the big hall in London, or the guy in the little house out somewhere reading Homer in the Greek, in any particular year.)

{"The Baltimore County School Board have decided to expel Dexter from the entire public school system." "Oh, Mr. Kirk, I feel as upset as you do about Dexter's truancy, but surely expulsion is not the answer!" "I'm afraid expulsion is the only answer; it is the opinion of the entire staff that Dexter is criminally insane."}

And, for much of the rest of it, as I've tried to say, all that I can really do is refer to that most useful line of Wittgenstein's: "What we cannot speak about, we must pass over in silence." To me, that was always one of those things that never needed to be proved.

And, yeah, I know that he's trying to be a bit thespian here, but it comes off as a bit pedantic to me, as though he were Patrick Stewart or somebody.... it sure isn't one of Mozart's operas; I know that much. He just doesn't have that playboy's fire in him. That magic flute. ^^

{I tried explaining it on youtube once-- "The Magic Flute", after its premiere, was played for months and months literally every other day on average; it was the *ecstasy* of the 18th century; this was not Papist mumbo-jumbo, lol....}

But anyway, all that I need right now is a good Chopin player, not a mathematician, haha. Sorry about that-- hope it didn't come off mean. Pity when they have to bugger me about 'the West', though. 'The West', and the Archbishop of Salzburg.... and The Mandrake Falls Gazette, hahaha. And Roger Greenberg, from Hollywood, California.

Anyway, if he was aiming at being the Livy of geometry, he sure came off as a disappointing mediocrity, in my opinion.

And anyway, the idea that you should use a translated Greek text as a learner's textbook is a stupid idea. Although I suppose that this is back when Charles Dickens was still warm in his grave, and people seemed to think that he had some merit as a writer, you know, so who knows what sort of trashy geometry books they had. But to actually state that Euclid's book ought to be given scriptural status no matter what sorta makes you wonder if Lewis here didn't spend rather more time reading 'Pilgrim's Progress', than 'Vanity Fair'.

{"With pow'r endued all language to explain/ Of care the loosner, and the source of gain." But, to be honest, I never liked half of that sort of thing.... I never liked Greek letters. Too foreign. After all, when the Gauls were about the City, I don't think that it was the Greeks who saw them off, but Juno's geese....}

"There are a thousand thoughts lying within a man that he does not know till he takes up the pen to write." Yes, indeed, I like that Mr Thackeray almost as much as I like Jane.

Anyway, I am always trying to write these very brief reviews, you know. But anyway, I can't help but be reminded of 'Mr. Monk and the Garbage Strike', because an hour or two ago or whenever it was, I couldn't hardly write two lines, and now with the quiet (and blessed Amadeus) I've got out into the open, a bit.... and, to be honest, I only even bothered at all because of space requirements, (read: read this and be done), and only didn't put it off till tomorrow, because of time requirements (read: tomorrow the storm god turns off the lights). But let me try to wrap it up for you, at least:

I don't want to be unfair and unduly critical, since I don't really know Euclid or geometry.

As to its being a delightful read for beginners, 'tisn't.

As for being a fascinating glimpse into the mind of a delightful author, 'tisn't.

As for being written in some sort of style which isn't dreadful, and which certainly could have been a fair bit worse.... sure, sure.

So in the end, it *is* a technical piece-- historians like to call them monographs, ("40 Years 400 Years Ago: An Interesting Time"), which, although it occasionally means 'an interesting episode', and technically can mean that, but in the stupendous majority of cases, means more or less 'bogged down in the most neurotic technicalities'-- and technical pieces, like action movies, ironically enough, tend to not *really* have a good style, and this is, yes, a bit lacking, actually.

.... And the whole thing just vaguely reminds me of Boethius-- odd, and interesting.... but what a weirdo.

And in both cases we have this weird unresolved thingie-- Boethius, in stoic poetry experiment, rags on playwrights.... because that makes sense. And Lewis here, in his geometry play experiment, rags on.... non-traditionalists?

(I mean, I thought that he was gonna be doing brain-battle with those trippy 'non-Euclidean' guys who think that circles are rectangles with three points, but only because they have involved proofs of the same.... not, like, ooooh, the Loeb Classical Library is gonna fine yer ass!)

*does weird face*

And yeah, Jim Parsons could get shitloads of giggles from this shit, yeah. ^^

(7/10) ( )