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Thursday, October 29, 2009
Reading List: The Year I Owned the Yankees
- Lyle, [Albert] Sparky and David Fisher. The Year I Owned the Yankees. New York: Bantam Books, [1990] 1991. ISBN 978-0-553-28692-2.
- “Sparky” Lyle was one of the preeminent baseball relief pitchers of the 1970s. In 1977, he became the first American League reliever to win the Cy Young Award. In this book, due to one of those bizarre tax-swap transactions of the 1980–90s, George Steinbrenner, “The Boss”, was forced to divest the New York Yankees to an unrelated owner. Well, who could be more unrelated than Sparky Lyle, so when the telephone rings while he and his wife are watching “Jeopardy”, the last thing he imagines is that he's about to be offered a no-cash leveraged buy-out of the Yankees. Based upon his extensive business experience, 238 career saves, and pioneering in sitting naked on teammates' birthday cakes, he says, “Why not?” and the game, and season, are afoot. None of this ever happened: the subtitle is “A Baseball Fantasy”, but wouldn't it have been delightful if it had? There's the pitcher with a bionic arm, cellular phone gloves so coaches can call fielders to position them for batters (if they don't get the answering machine), the clubhouse at Yankee Stadium enhanced with a Mood Room for those who wish to mellow out and a Frustration Room for those inclined to smash and break things after bruising losses, and the pitching coach who performs an exorcism and conducts a seance manifesting the spirit of Cy Young who counsels the Yankee pitching staff “Never hang a curve to Babe Ruth”. Thank you, Cy! Then there's the Japanese pitcher who can read minds and the reliever who reinvents himself as “Mr. Cool” and rides in from the bullpen on a Harley with the stadium PA system playing “Leader of the Pack”. This is a romp which, while the very quintessence of fantasy baseball, also embodies a great deal of inside baseball wisdom. It's also eerily prophetic, as sabermetrics, as practised by Billy Beane's Oakland A's years after this book was remaindered, plays a major part in the plot. And never neglect the ultimate loyalty of a fan to their team! Sparky becomes the owner with a vow to be the anti-Boss, but discovers as the season progresses that the realities of corporate baseball in the 1990s mandate many of the policies which caused Steinbrenner to be so detested. In the end, he comes to appreciate that any boss, to do his or her job, must be, in part, The Boss. I wish I'd read that before I discovered it for myself. This is a great book to treat yourself to while the current World Series involving the Yankees is contested. The book is out of print, but used paperback copies in readable condition are abundant and reasonably priced. Special thanks to the reader of this chronicle who recommended this book!
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Reading List: End the Fed
- Paul, Ron. End the Fed. New York: Grand Central, 2000. ISBN 978-0-446-54919-6.
-
Imagine a company whose performance, measured over almost a century
by the primary metric given in its charter, looked
like this:
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Reading List: We Are Doomed
- Derbyshire, John. We Are Doomed. New York: Crown Forum, 2009. ISBN 978-0-307-40958-4.
- In this book, genial curmudgeon John Derbyshire, whose previous two books were popular treatments of the Riemann hypothesis and the history of algebra, argues that an authentically conservative outlook on life requires a relentlessly realistic pessimism about human nature, human institutions, and the human prospect. Such a pessimistic viewpoint immunises one from the kind of happy face optimism which breeds enthusiasm for breathtaking ideas and grand, ambitious schemes, which all of history testifies are doomed to failure and tragedy. Adopting a pessimistic attitude is, Derbyshire says, not an effort to turn into a sourpuss (although see the photograph of the author on the dust jacket), but simply the consequence of removing the rose coloured glasses and looking at the world as it really is. To grind down the reader's optimism into a finely-figured speculum of gloom, a sequence of chapters surveys the Hellbound landscape of what passes for the modern world: “diversity”, politics, popular culture, education, economics, and third-rail topics such as achievement gaps between races and the assimilation of immigrants. The discussion is mostly centred on the United States, but in chapter 11, we take a tour d'horizon and find that things are, on the whole, as bad or worse everywhere else. In the conclusion the author, who is just a few years my senior, voices a thought which has been rattling around my own brain for some time: that those of our generation living in the West may be seen, in retrospect, as having had the good fortune to live in a golden age. We just missed the convulsive mass warfare of the 20th century (although not, of course, frequent brushfire conflicts in which you can be killed just as dead, terrorism, or the threat of nuclear annihilation during the Cold War), lived through the greatest and most broadly-based expansion of economic prosperity in human history, accompanied by more progress in science, technology, and medicine than in all of the human experience prior to our generation. Further, we're probably going to hand in our dinner pails before the economic apocalypse made inevitable by the pyramid of paper money and bogus debt we created, mass human migrations, demographic collapse, and the ultimate eclipse of the tattered remnants of human liberty by the malignant state. Will people decades and centuries hence look back at the Boomer generation as the one that reaped all the benefits for themselves and passed on the bills and the adverse consequences to their descendants? That's the way to bet. So what is to be done? How do we turn the ship around before we hit the iceberg? Don't look for any such chirpy suggestions here: it's all in the title—we are doomed! My own view is that we're in a race between a technological singularity and a new dark age of poverty, ignorance, subjugation to the state, and pervasive violence. Sharing the author's proclivity for pessimism, you can probably guess which I judge more probable. If you concur, you might want to read this book, which will appear in this chronicle in due time. The book includes neither bibliography nor index. The lack of the former is particularly regrettable as a multitude of sources are cited in the text, many available online. It would be wonderful if the author posted a bibliography of clickable links (to online articles or purchase links for books cited) on his Web site, where there is a Web log of comments from readers and the author's responses.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Reading List: The Nuclear Rocket
- Dewar, James with Robert Bussard. The Nuclear Rocket. Burlington, Canada: Apogee Books, 2009. ISBN 978-1-894959-99-5.
-
Let me begin with a few comments about the author attribution of
this book. I have cited it as given on the copyright page, but
as James Dewar notes in his preface, the main text of the book
is entirely his creation. He says of Robert Bussard, “I
am deeply indebted to Bob's contributions and consequently list
his name in the credit to this book”. Bussard himself
contributes a five-page introduction in which he uses,
inter alia,
the adjectives “amazing”, “strange”,
“remarkable”, “wonderful”, “visionary”,
and “most odd” to describe the work, which he makes clear
is entirely Dewar's. Consequently, I shall subsequently use “the
author” to denote Dewar alone. Bussard died in 2007,
two years before the publication of this book, so his introduction
must have been based upon a manuscript. I leave to the reader to judge the propriety of posthumously naming as co-author a
prominent individual who did not write a single word of the main text.
Unlike the author's earlier
To the End of the Solar System (June 2008),
which was a nuts and bolts history of the U.S. nuclear rocket
program, this book, titled The Nuclear Rocket,
quoting from Bussard's introduction, “…is not really
about nuclear rocket propulsion or its applications to space
flight…”. Indeed, although some of the nitty-gritty of
nuclear rocket engines are discussed, the bulk of the book is
an argument for a highly-specific long term plan to transform
human access to space from an elitist government run program to
a market-driven expansive program with the ultimate goal of
providing access to space to all and opening the solar system to
human expansion and eventual dominion. This is indeed ambitious
and visionary, but of all of Bussard's adjectives, the one that sticks
with me is “most odd”.
Dewar argues that the
NERVA B-4 nuclear
thermal rocket core, developed between 1960 and 1972, and
successfully tested on several occasions, has the capability,
once the “taboo” against using nuclear engines in
the boost to low Earth orbit (LEO) is discarded, of revolutionising
space transportation and so drastically reducing the cost per
unit mass to orbit that it would effectively democratise access to
space. In particular, he proposes a “Re-core” engine
which, integrated with a liquid hydrogen tank and solid rocket
boosters, would be air-launched from a large cargo aircraft such
as a
C-5, with the
solid rockets boosting the nuclear engine to around 30 km
where they would separate for recovery and the nuclear engine engaged.
The nuclear rocket would continue to boost the payload to
orbital insertion. Since the nuclear stage would not go critical
until having reached the upper atmosphere, there would be no
radioactivity risk to those handling the stage on the ground prior
to launch or to the crew of the plane which deployed the rocket.
After reaching orbit, the payload and hydrogen tank would be separated,
and the nuclear engine enclosed in a cocoon (much like an
ICBM reentry vehicle) which would de-orbit and eventually land at
sea in a region far from inhabited land. The cocoon, which would float
after landing, would be recovered by a ship, placed in a radiation-proof
cask, and returned to a reprocessing centre where the highly radioactive
nuclear fuel core would be removed for reprocessing (the entire launch to
orbit would consume only about 1% of the highly enriched uranium in the
core, so recovering the remaining uranium and reusing it is essential
to the economic viability of the scheme). Meanwhile, another never
critical core would be inserted in the engine which, after inspection of
the non-nuclear components, would be ready for another flight. If
each engine were reused 100 times, and efficient fuel reprocessing
were able to produce new cores economically, the cost for each
17,000 pound payload to LEO would be around US$108 per pound.
Payloads which reached LEO and needed to go beyond (for example, to
geostationary orbit, the Moon, or the planets) would rendezvous with
a different variant of the NERVA-derived engine, dubbed the
“Re-use” stage, which is much like Von Braun's
nuclear
shuttle concept. This engine, like the original NERVA, would be
designed for multiple missions, needing only inspection and refuelling
with liquid hydrogen. A single Re-use stage might complete 30 round-trip
missions before being disposed of in deep space (offering “free
launches” for planetary science missions on its final trip into the
darkness).
There is little doubt that something like this is technically
feasible. After all, the nuclear rocket engine was extensively
tested in the years prior to its cancellation in 1972, and NASA's
massive resources of the epoch examined mission profiles (under the
constraint that nuclear engines could be used only for
departure from LEO, however, and without return to Earth) and
found no show stoppers. Indeed, there is evidence that the nuclear
engine was cancelled, in part, because it was performing so well
that policy makers feared it would enable additional costly
NASA missions post-Apollo. There are some technological
issues: for example, the author implies that the recovered
Re-core, once its hot core is extracted and a new pure uranium
core installed, will not be radioactive and hence safe to handle
without special precautions. But what about neutron activation
of other components of the engine? An operating nuclear rocket
creates one of the most extreme neutronic environments outside
the detonation of a nuclear weapon. Would it be possible to choose
materials for the non-core components of the engine which would
be immune to this and, if not, how serious would the induced
radioactivity be, especially if the engine were reused up to
a hundred times? The book is silent on this and a number of other
questions.
The initial breakthrough in space propulsion from the first generation
nuclear engines is projected to lead to rapid progress in optimising
them, with four generations of successively improved engines within a
decade or so. This would eventually lead to the development of a
heavy lifter able to orbit around 150,000 pounds of payload per flight
at a cost (after development costs are amortised or expensed) of
about US$87 per pound. This lifter would allow the construction of
large space stations and the transport of people to them in
“buses” with up to thirty passengers per mission. Beyond
that, a nuclear single stage to orbit vehicle is examined, but there
are a multitude of technological and policy questions to be resolved
before that could be contemplated.
All of this, however, is not what the book is about.
The author is a passionate believer in the proposition that opening
the space frontier to all the people of Earth, not just a few
elite civil servants, is essential to preserving peace, restoring
the optimism of our species, and protecting the thin biosphere of
this big rock we inhabit. And so he proposes a detailed structure
for accomplishing these goals, beginning with “Democratization
of Space Act” to be adopted by the U.S. Congress, and the
creation of a “Nuclear Rocket Development and Operations
Corporation” (NucRocCorp), which would be a kind of private/public
partnership in which individuals could invest. This company could
create divisions (in some cases competing with one another) and
charter development projects. It would entirely control space
nuclear propulsion, with oversight by U.S. government regulatory
agencies, which would retain strict control over the fissile
reactor cores.
As the initial program migrated to the heavy lifter, this structure
would morph into a multinational (admitting only “good”
nations, however) structure of bewildering (to this engineer)
bureaucratic complexity which makes the United Nations look like
the student council of
Weemawee High. The lines of responsibility
and power here are diffuse in the extreme. Let me simply cite
“The Stockholder's Declaration” from p. 161:
Whoever invests in the NucRocCorp and subsequent Space Charter Authority should be required to sign a declaration that commits him or her to respect the purpose of the new regime, and conduct their personal lives in a manner that recognizes the rights of their fellow man (What about woman?—JW). They must be made aware that failure to do so could result in forfeiture of their investment.
Property rights, anybody? Thought police? Apart from the manifest baroque complexity of the proposed scheme, it entirely ignores Jerry Pournelle's Iron Law of Bureaucracy: regardless of its original mission, any bureaucracy will eventually be predominately populated by those seeking to advance the interests of the bureaucracy itself, not the purpose for which it was created. The structure proposed here, even if enacted (implausible in the extreme) and even if it worked as intended (vanishingly improbable), would inevitably be captured by the Iron Law and become something like, well, NASA. On pp. 36–37, the author likens attempts to stretch chemical rocket technology to its limits to gold plating a nail when what is needed is a bigger hammer (nuclear rockets). But this book brings to my mind another epigram: “When all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.” Dewar passionately supports nuclear rocket technology and believes that it is the way to open the solar system to human settlement. I entirely concur. But when it comes to assuming that boosting people up to a space station (p. 111):And looking down on the bright Earth and into the black heavens might create a new perspective among Protestant, Roman Catholic, and Orthodox theologians, and perhaps lead to the end of the schism plaguing Christianity. The same might be said of the division between the Sunnis and Shiites in Islam, and the religions of the Near and Far East might benefit from a new perspective.
Call me cynical, but I'll wager this particular swing of the hammer is more likely to land on a thumb than the intended nail. Those who cherish individual freedom have often dreamt of a future in which the opening of access to space would, in the words of L. Neil Smith, extend the human prospect to “freedom, immortality, and the stars”—works for me. What is proposed here, if adopted, looks more like, after more than a third of a century of dithering, the space frontier being finally opened to the brave pioneers ready to homestead there, and when they arrive, the tax man and the all-pervasive regulatory state are already there, up and running. The nuclear rocket can expand the human presence throughout the solar system. Let's just hope that when humanity (or some risk-taking subset of it) takes that long-deferred step, it does not propagate the soft tyranny of present day terrestrial governance to worlds beyond.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Reading List: The Glass Giant of Palomar
- Woodbury, David O. The Glass Giant of Palomar. New York: Dodd, Mead, [1939, 1948] 1953. LCCN 53000393.
- I originally read this book when I was in junior high school—it was one of the few astronomy titles in the school's library. It's one of the grains of sand dropping on the pile which eventually provoked the avalanche that persuaded me I was living in the golden age of engineering and that I'd best spend my life making the most of it. Seventy years after it was originally published (the 1948 and 1953 updates added only minor information on the final commissioning of the telescope and a collection of photos taken through it), this book still inspires respect for those who created the 200 inch Hale Telescope on Mount Palomar, and the engineering challenges they faced and overcame in achieving that milestone in astronomical instrumentation. The book is as much a biography of George Ellery Hale as it is a story of the giant telescope he brought into being. Hale was a world class scientist: he invented the spectroheliograph, discovered the magnetic fields of sunspots, founded the Astrophysical Journal and to a large extent the field of astrophysics itself, but he also excelled as a promoter and fund-raiser for grand-scale scientific instrumentation. The Yerkes, Mount Wilson, and Palomar observatories would, in all likelihood, not have existed were it not for Hale's indefatigable salesmanship. And this was an age when persuasiveness was all. With the exception of the road to the top of Palomar, all of the observatories and their equipment promoted by Hale were funded without a single penny of taxpayer money. For the Palomar 200 inch, he raised US$6 million in gold-backed 1930 dollars, which in present-day paper funny-money amounts to US$78 million. It was a very different America which built the Palomar telescope. Not only was it never even thought of that money coercively taken from taxpayers would be diverted to pure science, anybody who wanted to contribute to the project, regardless of their academic credentials, was judged solely on their merits and given a position based upon their achievements. The chief optician who ground, polished, and figured the main mirror of the Palomar telescope (so perfectly that its potential would not be realised until recently thanks to adaptive optics) had a sixth grade education and was first employed at Mount Wilson as a truck driver. You can make of yourself what you have within yourself in America, so they say—so it was for Marcus Brown (p. 279). Milton Humason who, with Edwin Hubble, discovered the expansion of the universe, dropped out of school at the age of 14 and began his astronomical career driving supplies up Mount Wilson on mule trains. You can make of yourself what you have within yourself in America, or at least you could then. Now we go elsewhere. Is there anything Russell W. Porter didn't do? Arctic explorer, founder of the hobby of amateur telescope making, engineer, architect…his footprints and brushstrokes are all over technological creativity in the first half of the twentieth century. And he is much in evidence here: recruited in 1927, he did the conceptual design for most of the buildings of the observatory, and his cutaway drawings of the mechanisms of the telescope demonstrate to those endowed with contemporary computer graphics tools that the eye of the artist is far more important than the technology of the moment. This book has been out of print for decades, but used copies (often, sadly, de-accessioned by public libraries) are generally available at prices (unless you're worried about cosmetics and collectability) comparable to present-day hardbacks. It's as good a read today as it was in 1962.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Reading List: Forbidden Science. Vol. 2
- Vallee, Jacques. Forbidden Science. Vol. 2. San Francisco: Documatica Research, 2008. ISBN 978-0-615-24974-2.
- This, the second volume of Jacques Vallee's journals, chronicles the years from 1970 through 1979. (I read the first volume, covering 1957–1969, before I began this list.) Early in the narrative (p. 153), Vallee becomes a U.S. citizen, but although surrendering his French passport, he never gives up his Gallic rationalism and scepticism, both of which serve him well in the increasingly weird Northern California scene in the Seventies. It was in those locust years that the seeds for the personal computing and Internet revolutions matured, and Vallee was at the nexus of this technological ferment, working on databases, Doug Englebart's Augmentation project, and later systems for conferencing and collaborative work across networks. By the end of the decade he, like many in Silicon Valley of the epoch, has become an entrepreneur, running a company based upon the conferencing technology he developed. (One amusing anecdote which indicates how far we've come since the 70s in mindset is when he pitches his conferencing system to General Electric who, at the time, had the largest commercial data network to support their timesharing service. They said they were afraid to implement anything which looked too much like a messaging system for fear of running afoul of the Post Office.) If this were purely a personal narrative of the formative years of the Internet and personal computing, it would be a valuable book—I was there, then, and Vallee gets it absolutely right. A journal is, in many ways, better than a history because you experience the groping for solutions amidst confusion and ignorance which is the stuff of real life, not the narrative of an historian who knows how it all came out. But in addition to being a computer scientist, entrepreneur, and (later) venture capitalist, Vallee is also one of the preeminent researchers into the UFO and related paranormal phenomena (the character Claude Lacombe, played by François Truffaut in Steven Spielberg's 1977 movie Close Encounters of the Third Kind was based upon Vallee). As the 1970s progress, the author becomes increasingly convinced that the UFO phenomenon cannot be explained by extraterrestrials and spaceships, and that it is rooted in the same stratum of the human mind and the universe we inhabit which has given rise to folklore about little people and various occult and esoteric traditions. Later in the decade, he begins to suspect that at least some UFO activity is the work of deliberate manipulators bent on creating an irrational, anti-science worldview in the general populace, a hypothesis expounded in his 1979 book, Messengers of Deception, which remains controversial three decades after its publication. The Bay Area in the Seventies was a kind of cosmic vortex of the weird, and along with Vallee we encounter many of the prominent figures of the time, including Uri Geller (who Vallee immediately dismisses as a charlatan), Doug Engelbart, J. Allen Hynek, Anton LaVey, Russell Targ, Hal Puthoff, Ingo Swann, Ira Einhorn, Tim Leary, Tom Bearden, Jack Sarfatti, Melvin Belli, and many more. Always on a relentlessly rational even keel, he observes with dismay as many of his colleagues disappear into drugs, cults, gullibility, pseudoscience, and fads as that dark decade takes its toll. In May 1979 he feels himself to be at “the end of an age that defied all conventions but failed miserably to set new standards” (p. 463). While this is certainly spot on in the social and cultural context in which he meant it, it is ironic that so many of the standards upon which the subsequent explosion of computer and networking technology are based were created in those years by engineers patiently toiling away in Silicon Valley amidst all the madness. An introduction and retrospective at the end puts the work into perspective from the present day, and 25 pages of end notes expand upon items in the journals which may be obscure at this remove and provide source citations for events and works mentioned. You might wonder what possesses somebody to read more than five hundred pages of journal entries by somebody else which date from thirty to forty years ago. Well, I took the time, and I'm glad I did: it perfectly recreated the sense of the times and of the intellectual and technological challenges of the age. Trust me: if you're too young to remember the Seventies, it's far better to experience those years here than to have actually lived through them.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Reading List: Heart of the Assassin
- Ferrigno, Robert. Heart of the Assassin. New York: Scribner, 2009. ISBN 978-1-4165-3767-0.
- This novel completes the author's Assassin Trilogy, which began with Prayers for the Assassin (March 2006) and continued with Sins of the Assassin (March 2008). This is one of those trilogies in which you really want to read the books in order. While there is some effort to provide context for readers who start in the middle, you'll miss so much of the background of the scenario and the development and previous interactions of characters that you'll miss a great deal of what's going on. If you're unfamiliar with the world in which these stories are set, please see my comments on the earlier books in the series. As this novel opens, a crisis is brewing as a heavily armed and increasingly expansionist Aztlán is ready to exploit the disunity of the Islamic Republic and the Bible Belt, most of whose military forces are arrayed against one another, to continue to nibble away at both. Visionaries on both sides imagine a reunification of the two monotheistic parts of what were once the United States, while the Old One and his mega-Machiavellian daughter Baby work their dark plots in the background. Former fedayeen shadow warrior Rakkim Epps finds himself on missions to the darkest part of the Republic, New Fallujah (the former San Francisco), and to the radioactive remains of Washington D.C., seeking a relic which might have the power to unite the nation once again. Having read and tremendously enjoyed the first two books of the trilogy, I was very much looking forward to this novel, but having now read it, I consider it a disappointment. As the trilogy has progressed, the author seems to have become ever more willing to invent whatever technology he needs at the moment to advance the plot, whether or not it is plausible or consistent with the rest of the world he has created, and to admit the supernatural into a story which started out set in a world of gritty reality. I spent the first 270 pages making increasingly strenuous efforts to suspend disbelief, but then when one of the characters uses a medical oxygen tank as a flamethrower, I “lost it” and started laughing out loud at each of the absurdities in the pages that followed: “DNA knives” that melt into a person's forearm, holodeck hotel rooms with faithful all-senses stimulation and simulated lifeforms, a ghost, miraculous religious relics, etc., etc. The first two books made the reader think about what it would be like if a post-apocalyptic Great Awakening reorganised the U.S. around Islamic and Christian fundamentalism. In this book, all of that is swept into the background, and it's all about the characters (who one ceases to care much about, as they become increasingly comic book like) and a political plot so preposterous it makes Dan Brown's novels seem like nonfiction. If you've read the first two novels and want to discover how it all comes out, you will find all of the threads resolved in this book. For me, there were just too many “Oh come on, now!” moments for the result to be truly satisfying. A podcast interview with the author is available. You can read the first chapter of this book online at the author's Web site.