Feynman is somewhat of a rascal, one with undeniable genius, but a rascal nonetheless. I expected this to be a book that would confirm my ideal of the contemplative and infinitely wise physicist along the lines of Einstein, Born, and Oppenheimer, but instead, this turned out to be an account of the adventures of the boyish Dick Feynman getting into all sorts of troubles and adventures. Feynman is the exact opposite of what one would expect a Nobel laureate physicist would be like. He is rough around the edges, has the temperament of a mischievous frat boy (which admittedly he was at MIT). From his remarkable childhood fixing radios to his college years of pranks and mischief all the way to his significant amateur hobbies as a safecracker, painter, drummer, and Mayan codex specialist, Feynman has always retained his unique bravado, swagger, mischievousness, and appetite for adventure and beautiful women, along with his incredible intellect. His stories were always a treat to read, but his obvious arrogance inevitably leads to speculations of how exaggerated his stories really are. Nonetheless, it was intriguing to probe the way this genius troublemaker thinks.