Brian Clegg's Blog, page 126

When space isn't cold enough

Not a Blue Peter model - the actual Herschel Space ObservatoryWe are used to thinking of space as a cold place. And it is, sort of - but not always in the ways you might expect.

For instance, if you were suddenly dropped into space you might assume that the minimal temperature out there would mean that your blood would freeze solid in your veins, while simultaneously trying to boil where any is exposed due to a lack of pressure. But here's the thing. It won't boil - your circulatory system will keep it under pressure - and it won't freeze because a vacuum makes a great insulator. Remember vacuum flasks - there's a lesson there. The only heat you will lose is through radiation and you aren't hot enough to do that quickly.

Even so, it's rather ironic that space just isn't cold enough for the Herschel Space Observatory. It was sent up with 2160 litres of liquid helium to keep it cool. but that is due to run out by the end of March, leaving the Herschel to die of warmth in space - without that helium, the electromagnetic radiation emitted by the satellite itself will be enough to mask the subtle stream of photons it has been detecting.

The Herschel has done great work on helping us understand how stars and galaxies are formed, peering back around 10 billion years in time, picking up weak sub-millimetre light from the dust around newly formed stars. The good news, though, is that although the Herschel is soon to stop functioning, according to Steve Eales at the University of Cardiff, an astronomer who leads one of the telescope’s largest surveys,  'the treasure trove of Herschel data will be picked through by astronomers for years to come.' That's good to know.

Thanks to Physics World (also featuring an excellent article by me (ahem) on the need for double blind experiments in physics to deal with experimenter bias in the January edition) for this info.

In praise of Jeremy Clarkson

The book what I got for Christmas
(sic)A couple of years ago at Christmas I commented that I was in danger of turning into Jeremy Clarkson. Now, having received another of his books in my Christmas stocking, I want to reflect on why he really doesn't deserve the opprobrium that is heaped on him. (Can you do anything else with opprobrium but heap it?)

People who whinge about how terrible Clarkson is miss the point. The same people probably say how clever the Alan Partridge character is. And yet Alan Partridge is not Mister Likeable. He is thoroughly detestable. The same goes for Keith Lemon if you like him, which I gather some do. (I can't stand either of them, but that's a different story.) The point is that these are grotesque characters invented for TV. And, I would suggest to you, so is Jeremy Clarkson. Okay, he may not use a fictional character name as the other two do, but what he does is still an entertaining act.

You may, by now, be frothing at the mouth, determined to point out that Clarkson really means it where Partridge and Lemon are pure fiction. And some of the time I'm sure Clarkson does. But really this is beside the point. If you treat him as a character, he is very amusing. His writing style is light and entertaining. He sometimes even makes quite sensible observations when political correctness has forced us all in a different direction. What's not to love? No one gets nasty about the highly amusing rants that David Mitchell writes - they accept that they are amusing journalism. And I argue Clarkson should get the same treatment. So give the man a rest.

If you're an author you only hate him because he sells more books that you do. And otherwise, you're only jealous because he has a nicer car than yours...

We've had babies

Look, dear, we've had babies!
(Trade at top, mass market at bottom)I'm delighted to say that the paperback versions of The Universe Inside You have arrived and now are on sale. I thought it might be a good opportunity to consider the different book publishing formats and how they are to be approached in an ebook world.

It can be quite confusing as there are two distinct types of paperback - trade and mass market. In this instance, Universe was first published as a trade paperback. This is a somewhat larger format and typically has a slightly more robust cover, often with opening flaps on the edges.

Universe has now come out as a mass market paperback. This is smaller (more so than is obvious in the picture - the mass market paperback is noticeably smaller when handled for real) and cheaper - in this case £8.99 as against £12.99 full price.

The trade paperback is an alternative to a hardback, which is usually priced higher still. There seem to be two reasons for producing these more expensive versions. Hardbacks/trade paperbacks are, for some reason, more likely to be reviewed, and they make more imposing presents. Sales of these, particularly hardbacks, seem to be holding up in the face of ebook competition.

The mass market (wishful thinking as a term in many cases) paperback is, of course, the cheap and cheerful format. But as it's usually undercut by the ebook, should there be one, it has been suffering sales in comparison with its big brothers.

With ebooks produced in parallel with the paper version being pretty much the norm, will publishers keep going with the two/three tier approach? I really don't know. Traditionally if there was only one tier it would either be just a hardback (because it didn't sell enough to go into paperback) or just a mass market paperback (as it wasn't the sort of book that would treasured/given as a gift). Now, maybe, we will see more trade paperback only issues as a kind of comprise to accompany the ebook. Having said that, the production costs of hardbacks aren't hugely greater than paperbacks (far less than the price point suggests) so we may see more hardback only pbooks at trade paperback prices.

As for the ebooks, the format decision isn't about size or cover, but which platforms to go for. Kindle seems a no-brainer. The best of my ebook publishers, Icon, also goes for iTunes, Nook and Kobo. But is it worth also going for the apparently drooping Sony ereader? Should publishers bother with any other formats? It's a tricky one. But what remains sure is that books will not settle into a single format that is set in stone. They will continue to mutate to match our reading habits.

There have been triumphant reports from conservatives suggesting that ebook sales are tapering off. This is rubbish. But equally silly are the predictions we have been seeing for about 10 years of the demise of the printed book. There may be tweaking, but both formats have a long way to go yet.

The uncomfortable thank-you note

Everyone knows that if you say something with your arm twisted up your back it doesn't really count. Parents are normally as aware of this as everyone else. But there is one case when parents, particularly middle class parents, have a blind spot. And that is the 'Thank-you' note. (How do you spell that? Should it be 'Thank You' note? Who cares?)

I have broached this subject because Amazon, perhaps feeling guilty about avoiding paying tax, has turned into a nagging parent. I had turned some Nectar points into an Amazon gift certificate, applied it to my account and Amazon gave me a quick nudge in the ribs and said 'Oi! Where do you think you are going? Before you play with your new certificate, send Nectar a thank-you message like a good boy.' Leaving aside the amusement value of being asked to thank the piece of plastic that is my Nectar card, it made me think about thank-you notes and how much I hate them.

I can remember all too horribly that long drawn out process over several days attempting to get small children to write thank you notes, contemplating writing them with the left hand myself, and finally pinning them down long enough to scribble some platitudes. And to be honest they aren't always nice to receive either. When you receive that 3 page essay from little Marmaduke, complete with a few pencil sketches and an impromptu sonnet of praise for your gift of a handkerchief, the feeling is not one of pleasure but rather of guilt at never achieving this level of response.

Don't get me wrong. Thank-you's of the right kind are wonderful. When they aren't automatic responses, but someone takes the time to say 'Thanks for that book, it was absolutely brilliant,' who most of the time doesn't bother to thank you for gifts then you know it has really meant something. You get a little warm glow of self-congratulation. But the knee-jerk thank-you note (something I never experienced as a child because we weren't really middle class, and anyway I saw everyone who gave me presents most weeks) is not something I can warm to.

As to Amazon giving me a nanny nudge towards issuing a thank-you:

Dear Amazon,
Thank you so much for your unexpected reminder to issue a thank-you. It was a lovely surprise, just what I've always wanted. I will print it off and put it on the mantlepiece, alongside the invitation to the Lord Lieutenant's Ball. Super.
With much love,
Brian

For those of you who were fans of Searle & Willans' How to Be Topp , (and if you aren't a fan you should rush out and buy a copy now), I leave you with the Molesworth Self-Adjusting Thank-You Letter:

As an after xmas wheeze n. molesworth presents his self-adjusting thank-you letter. Cut out hours of toil pen biting wear on elbows blotches and staring out of windows.

Strike Out words with do not apply.

Dear (Aunt) (Uncle) (Stinker) (Gran) (Clot) (Pen-Pal)
Thank you very much for the (train) (tractor) (germ gun) (kite) (delicious present*) (sweets) (space pistol) (toy socks)

It was (lovely) (useful) (just as good as the other three) (not bad) (super)

And I hav (played with it constantly) (busted it already) (no patience with it) (given it to the poor boys) (dismantled it)

I am feeling (very well) (very poorly) (lousy) (in tip-top form) (sick) I hope you are too.

My birthday when next present is due is on . . . . . .

From . . . . . .

(Postage must be prepaid.)

* When you can’t remember what it was. 

The interweb at its finest

My favourite entry in Yellow Pages
(sadly long since removed)I think we sometimes forget how much the internet/world wide web has changed the way we do things for the better. Here's a little story to illustrate this - and also I think to show that the power of something like the web is the ability to use it in unexpected ways.

I needed to replace a couple of tyres on a car. I was quite happy with the outfit I'd used for new tyres before, but because I don't buy tyres very often, I couldn't remember the company's name. This has happened before, rather a lot.

Of course, if I was all organized and such I would have carefully noted down the details of the tyre place in Evernote and I could just search that and pull them up in seconds. But I wasn't and I didn't. What can I say? I'm lazy.

In the old days I would have hunted for that tree graveyard the Yellow Pages ('I'm sure I left it there...') looked up tyre services, and then would have spent 15 minutes looking through the adverts, trying to decide which of the silly names was the business I used before. 'That seems vaguely familiar... but then so does this...'

Now, though, with the interweb at hand, the way I came to it was more a parallel of the way the brain deals with information. Though I couldn't remember the name of the tyre shop, I could remember where it was. But only in the sense of 'It's on that roundabout, you know, the one near Go Outdoors' - I didn't know a street name. No problem. Pull up Google maps, follow the route from home to 'that roundabout' and I have the location pinned down. Zip into Streetview - and I can see the building and read the name of the company.

At this point, quite recently I would have then turned to the electronic version of the phone book to get the number. But why bother? Type the company name in Google and up pops the phone number. I'm there in under a minute after employing the vaguest of search algorithms.

And that's why the internet/web is so good.

Ooh, I'm a green heretic

Many thanks to Karen James on Twitter for pointing out to me an article by Paul Kingsnorth for Orion Magazine* in which I get a mention as a green heretic (presumably for my book Ecologic):

Variations on this line have recently been pushed by the American thinker Stewart Brand, the British writer Mark Lynas, the Danish anti-green poster boy Bjørn Lomborg, and the American writers Emma Marris, Ted Nordhaus, and Michael Schellenberger. They in turn are building on work done in the past by other self-declared green “heretics” like Richard D. North, Brian Clegg, and Wilfred Beckerman.

Now I could simply take issue with this 'self-declared' tag - this is not something I have ever called myself, so I'm not sure how I can be 'self-declared'. And for that matter I post-date Lomborg in writing on this stuff, rather than being a figure from his past. But rather I would like to examine Kingsnorth's argument (as he clearly doesn't agree with me) in a little detail.

This is easier said than done, because I have to say it's one of the most impenetrable articles I've ever read. (And I read scientific papers on a daily basis.) Not so much because Kingsnorth's arguments are complex, or his jargon difficult, but rather the way he puts those arguments across seems designed more to obfuscate than illuminate. I probably need to summarise the thesis, as most readers, I suspect, will, as I did on the first attempt, give up by the time they reach the fourth paragraph and find that Kingsnorth is still wittering on about the name for the handle of a scythe (I think).

Eventually we get to some content. Us 'neo-environmentalists' it seems are almost uniformly in favour of technological solutions to environmental problems. Even, dare to think it, nuclear power. We have an 'excitable enthusiasm for markets' and an 'almost religious attitude towards the scientific method.'

This is immediately put down as bad (with one proviso, which I'll come back to). But let's take away the rhetoric and see what he's attacking. It's a bad thing to be pro-science? As this is our means of getting a better understanding of the universe, I guess this means the preferred alternative is ignorance in a kind of wishy-washy sentimental rosy glow. You certainly need plenty of ignorance to think people had better lives before science intervened. Back in those lovely times when the majority of funerals were for children, when people regularly died of easily preventable diseases and when most people were uneducated, limited, overworked, had no entertainment to speak of and wouldn't have travelled more than ten miles from home. Ever. Ah, idyllic times indeed.

As for markets, I don't have an excitable enthusiasm - I think they're awful. But I also think, like democracy, despite being bad, they are the best option we have to make things work.

The one proviso where Kingsnorth reckons us heretics are 'half right' is that little human scale efforts like recycling your tights won't make enough difference. The difference being that the 'neo-environmentalists' believe we will have to engineer our way out of environmental trouble (including again those dreaded nuclear power stations), while the option Kingsnorth seems to prefer is that we all abandon pretty well everything and concentrate on getting to know our scythes. He advocates withdrawing from the technological world, without acknowledging that withdrawing is a luxury that needs that wider world to support it - unless you are truly happy to return to medieval brutishness.

I'm not against everything he says. He points out that we should recognise that nature has a value beyond utility. But the argument that this is contrary to a scientific viewpoint is that hoary old chestnut, unweaving the rainbow. The idea that somehow, for instance, knowing how a rainbow is made makes it less wondrous. And this is bilge, as it has been ever since Keats came up with the term. Knowing the science doesn't prevent you from appreciating nature at an emotional or spiritual level - quite the reverse, it enhances that appreciation. And much of science, as opposed to technology, is nothing to do with utility. The LHC and the Hubble telescope are not about utility, but about exposing the universe to our sense of wonder. It is the romantic who ignores the science who only gets the small, limited uninspired and ultimately unsatisfying view.

It is science and technology that has made it possible for Paul Kingsnorth to eulogise endlessly about the wonders of handling a scythe. If his life depended on wielding it 12 hours a day, he would not have a romantic view of it, he would come to hate it. He would have, of course, no laptop to write his article on - and no audience for his writing - he would not have the time, the finances, the energy or the opportunity to do anything other than scrabble for survival.

To pretend it is possible to return to some mythical past where we were in tune with nature and life was wonderful is romantic fantasizing at its worst. But to turn away from what science can offer is even worse. It is simply ignorant.

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* I have to confess to never having heard of Orion Magazine. My apologies. According to its website, Orion’s mission is to 'inform, inspire, and engage individuals and grassroots organizations in becoming a significant cultural force for healing nature and community.' Right on.

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Later addition: thanks to Kiley Dancy for for pointing out this great animation by Fraser Davidson illustrating Richard Feynman's brilliant counter to 'unweaving the rainbow':

Richard Feynman - Ode To A Flower from Fraser Davidson on Vimeo.

Brilliant books

I have always loved science fiction, and also fantasy books set in the real world. But I have found it difficult to come across new titles I like outside my favourite authors - so this Christmas I consciously looked out for recommendations for something new to try and have read a pair of crackers that I have to get all excited about.

On the science fiction front, I have to confess that pretty well every author I like I already liked in the 1970s. I really haven't picked up anyone new. But I was blown away by Jack Glass by Adam Roberts. I suspect what made this for me is that Roberts consciously was setting out to write a book that took on some of the conventions of the golden ages of science fiction and crime writing - both favourites for me. It is a new book. It is a modern book. However it encompasses the best of the old. And the result is absolutely wonderful.

The antihero of the novel, Jack Glass, tells us up front that he is the murderer in each of three sections of the book - but this doesn't prevent the stories (which fit together almost seamlessly) from working in terms of suspense and anticipation.

The first section is probably the weakest and the middle the strongest, so if you make a start and struggle a little with the starkness of the first, do keep going. Roberts happens to be a professor of literature and if I say it doesn't show, I mean that in the best possible way. Although the book is very well written with some elegant turns of phrase, it doesn't get in the way of the storytelling as is so often the case with 'literary' writing.

If I'm going to quibble, Roberts gets the faster than light science wrong in the third section - but I always say that SF is fiction first and science second - this really isn't too much of a worry. If you like old school science fiction and haven't found anything you can really enjoy for years you should rush out and buy Jack Glass. See more at Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.com.

In real world fantasy I have been better served. Despite the sad loss of Ray Bradbury, some old favourites like Gene Wolfe, Terry Pratchett and Robert Rankin are going strong, while relative newcomer Neil Gaiman quickly became a favourite. However I still struggle to find something new that really appeals, so I was delighted by The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern. I know this has been around a while, and even managed to make the long list for the Orange Prize, but it's the first time I've seen it and I was bowled over.

One of my favourite fantasy books ever is Ray Bradbury's Something Wicked This Way Comes. Bradbury makes the fantastical aspect of the circus that arrives by night by train truly marvellous. And Morgernstern has picked up on this concept to make something wholly new and not in any sense derivative. (I was rather peeved she didn't admit to the debt in her acknowledgments, though.) This tale of a magical duel between two unwilling and sometimes unwitting competitors and the richly described late Victorian setting it takes place in is wonderful. And at the heart of it is the night circus.

This is such a fantastic (in every sense of the word) concept. The idea of a circus that opens at nightfall and stays open at dusk, that is really more like a collection of wonderful sideshow tents, that never tells you where and when it will be next is so brilliant I feel it really could be done for real (though of course without the magic at the heart of the circus in the book). The two sets of principle characters with interweaving stories always linked through the circus are also wonderful and endearing. The cover is plastered with comments about how truly, breathtakingly captivating it is. And they don't exaggerate.

As usual I have a couple of small quibbles. The book is too long for me - I think it could have been 100 pages shorter and would have worked even better: it sagged just a little before picking up the finale. And I really don't like the use of the present tense. I have never yet read a book that is in present tense that wouldn't read better if it used the more conventional past tense. It makes the sentences seem jerky and detached from each other. For me it just doesn't add anything positive. However this book is so wonderful that it pushes that concern aside. The Night Circus is definitely in my best ever fantasy top 10.  See more at Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.com.

The paradox of the resealable can

It has been brought to my attention that a product called 'No Fear Extreme Energy' (a drink) comes in a 'unique resealable can.' I do wonder if the manufacturers have really thought this through.

One issue is the implication of providing this feature. The fact you need to be able to reseal the can suggests that it is difficult to drink a whole can in one go. Does this mean it's not exactly delicious?

However there is a much deeper problem.

On my creativity seminars I often use a technique called 'the level chain' which is great for developing new product ideas. Before letting the participants loose I demonstrate a couple of uses of the technique, one of which is looking for a new paint product. The outcome of the demonstration is to come up with the idea of selling paint in cans with ring pull tops. After all, one of the biggest issues with cans of paint is opening them.

One of the reasons I use this example is that is great to remind the participants of a blockage to creativity they have to be aware of - premature evaluation. It's very easy when someone comes up with an idea to instantly spot what's wrong with it and kill it. Ideas are like little green shoots - easy to tread on with hobnail boots. And when I use the example of a ring pull can of paint I can guarantee (I ask for a show of hands) that some of those present will be thinking 'Yes, but how do you close the can?'

Those who do, miss the point. I have a great product idea, it just needs a bit of development. After all, I'm a paint manufacturer. (In the example. I'm not really, even though you can buy Brian Clegg paints.) I don't want my customers to close their cans of paint, I want them to leave them open to dry up so they'll buy more paint. What I've done is transformed a difficult question (what new and distinctive product can we make) to a simpler one (how can I persuade people to buy cans of paint you can't close).

There are lots of potential solutions to the 'can't close' problem, from selling paint in packs of small cans rather than one big one, to selling separate reseal lids. But the point is it's a good idea and I'll sell more paint.

Drinks manufacturers already have this advantage. Going on the number of half-full Coke cans I find around our house, just as mustard manufacturers were supposed to of old, Coca Cola must makes loads of dosh from the Coke that's thrown away. But No Fear is saying 'let's not make those profits.' Nice one guys. Time for a rethink.

Non-fiction detritus

They made me do it - in Gravity I lost the battle.
But at least the note is funny.Although I still have yearnings to write fiction, I have to accept that, on the whole, I am a non-fiction writer, and it is something I very much enjoy doing. But there is one aspect of putting together a non-fiction book that really gets on my nerves, and that's the bit that has leaked through from textbooks and other academic literature. I hate doing notes, cross-references and the like.

I feel I have to put them in. The publisher tends to insist on notes, and I know they will moan if I don't stick in a few random cross-references. But, really! Does anyone ever follow a cross-reference? Nah, they're just there as a sort of intellectual security blanket. I occasionally get the urge to put in totally random page numbers - but of course I  don't.

And don't get me started on notes.

I have a regular battle with publishers over these bits of useless information. I don't really want to do notes at all, but if I have to, which is usually the case, I insist on putting them in with page references on the note, but nothing in the main text. A couple of times (as in the illustration) a publisher has pulled numbered references on the main text on me, converting my original to this format, and I hate it. Numbered references break up the reading flow. This isn't a text book. It isn't a reference book. It's popular science - a book that should read fluidly. However subtle you make it, a numbered reference in the text will distract you.

What it won't do, though, is send the reader scurrying to the back of the book to follow it up. Because no one looks at them. Well almost no one. The only people who ever make use of reference notes are other authors who are cribbing bits out of your book and want to have an identified source. For their notes. Anyone else who claims to enjoy ploughing through notes like this is just showing off.

Oddly, though, I have just gone against my 'breaks the flow' rule with a book I have in the edit for later in the year. For reasons I don't understand, it cried out as I wrote it to have little expansion notes at the bottom of the page, with their inevitable numbers or asterisks in the text. I really don't know why it happened. It's a bit like when fiction authors say that a character does something they didn't expect. It just seemed the right thing to do.

But this is quite different from end notes that are just references to sources. They are cringe-makingingly painful. Publishers please take note (ahem).

Ditch the alloys

Is it alloy? Who knows.
But I hope it isn't.When I next get a new(ish) car, I'm not going to have a lot of choice. Let me explain. Around 70% of them are too expensive and around 20% too cheap and nasty.

I then have to eliminate all the cars with those ludicrous fairy light eyebrows as running lights.

Finally, the new car must not have alloy wheels. I just don't see the point of alloys. The slightest encounter with a curb and they go out of shape. And then alloys mean locking wheel nuts. And inevitably you either can't find the key when you need a new tyre, or the key breaks (as it did once when I tried to change a tyre), or you discover, as I did once, that the same car was made by both Ford and VW - I had Ford nuts and an incompatible VW key. The garage had to drill the nuts out.

So, definitely no alloys.

By the time I add in all my requirements I think there are going to be about two cars to chose from. In the whole world. Maybe I should learn to ride a bike.

Really I just want to say to car makers - stop it. Ditch the alloy wheels. They aren't clever, they aren't nice, they are just a pain. Give us wheels that are easy to take off and that are solid and dependable. Okay?