I always feel a bit iffy when I begin a review for a book I didn’t fully understand. There's a fine line between unfairly condemning an author for one’s own faults as a reader, and fairly criticizing a would-be teacher for their genuine shortcomings. Learning, after all, is normally a shared endeavor; and to be successful, it requires skill (though different kinds of skill) on the part of both the master and the pupil. In practice, I’m not sure it’s possible to separate out the contributions of either party; so the best we can do is attempt to be fair.
Peter Collier is, to the best of my knowledge, not a physicist; and I’m not sure if he even studied very much physics in university. He does appear, however, to have some math and science background, and generally comes across as a bright fellow. This book is thus not a tool developed by a professional, but the self-published work of an amateur. Collier taught himself general relativity; here, he attempts to teach us.
It must be said, before any evaluation of the book itself, that this book fills a vacuum in the market. There are plenty of popular science books on Einstein; and there are plenty of textbooks on relativity. But I’m not aware of another book that attempts to bridge this gap between the math-less popularizations and the mathematically advanced textbooks. As an added bonus, the book is fairly cheap—especially compared to any real textbook—so, regardless of execution, I’d say this books fills an important gap.
Collier begins with a whirlwind tour of basic math. To many people, I suspect, some of the concepts that he covers will seem ludicrously basic. For example, how many people don’t know what infinity is? Of course, it’s better to assume too little rather than too much; but frankly, if you have never learned algebra or calculus before, there are much, much better books out there to learn from. Collier’s explanations of this basic stuff are, at best, only reminders to rusty readers. (Personally, I have a very weak math and science background, but I spent some time last year refreshing myself with Khan Academy and other suchlike material.)
Soon we find ourselves in Newtonian mechanics, which for me was familiar enough territory. This is the physics you likely learned in high school (or your country’s equivalent). After this, we reach special relativity. Surprisingly, perhaps, you don’t need very difficult math to understand special relativity, which is good for me. And although special relativity requires quite different notions of space and time, I’d say it’s not ultimately that difficult to gain an intuitive understanding of it. So far, so good.
Here is where I ran into trouble. After special relativity, Collier begins introducing the student to the special mathematical tools necessary to understand general relativity. This is not easy; and indeed, from what I’ve heard, even Einstein struggled with it. How do you describe four-dimensional curved spacetime in mathematical language? It’s about as complicated as it sounds; simple things, like distance and time, what it means for a line to be straight, have to be re-examined. The mathematical apparatus used by Einstein in handling these problems is known as tensor calculus, and it’s no cakewalk.
Though no doubt I bear some responsibility for this, I think it’s a bad sign for Collier’s teaching method that, as soon as the math exceeded what I understood prior to opening the book, I felt confused; and even now, I wouldn’t say I have a firm grasp of tensor calculus. In fact, I got the impression that Collier’s own understanding of the math was a bit superficial. I suspect an expert would have been able to explain it more lucidly and succinctly. Collier’s explanations are, by contrast, sometimes a bit messy and confused. At the very least, they lack elegance.
The book improves after Collier finally gets to Einstein’s field equations, since the rest of the book (with the exception of the final chapter) just toys around with these equations. We see why Einstein’s equations approximate to Newton’s equations in weak, static gravitational fields at speeds much slower than light; and then, we get to see some of the classical tests of general relativity—red-shifted light, gravitational time-delay, the procession in the perihelion of Mercury. We move on from there to black holes, and the book ends with a chapter on cosmology. I found this last chapter rather unrelated to the rest of the book. It's mainly concerned with determining the curvature of the universe, which is indeed very interesting; but the presentation was, I found, too brief to convey any adequate understanding of the topic.
Even though there were times I enjoyed this book very much—especially since my reading coincided with the 100-year anniversary of general relativity—I’m not sure I would recommend it. For I don’t know how much I actually learned from this book. I had a decent conceptual (i.e. non-mathematical) understanding of special and general relativity before starting; and now I can say I’ve got a taste of how physicists make precise predictions with these theories. But do I understand them on a deeper level? I’m not certain.
From time to time, in fact, I found myself wondering whether learning the mathematics behind (say) general relativity or quantum mechanics is worthwhile for the layreader. Assuming that the reader wishes, as I do, to deepen her understanding of the universe, we are led to this question: are the equations of physics merely practical tools for making predictions, or are they conceptual aids to the understanding? Of course, the sensible answer is probably ‘both’, and I’m sure it depends on the person as well. For my part, even when I’m following the math easily enough, I still mentally translate the symbols into some sort of mental picture or idea. I admit, seeing the equations does help me, for example, precisely understand how one variable will affect another; but I’d say even in this case my “knowledge” of the physics in question is not ultimately mathematical.
This is likely more an indication of my lack of practice that anything else. Thinking with equations is laborious for me; words and pictures are much easier. Still, if the ability to think ably along mathematical lines is only attainable through much practice, we are lead to question books of this sort, which aim to circumvent all the practice while retaining the math. Nevertheless, many people read them, including myself, so perhaps they do help the amateur student achieve a deeper understanding. Again, I'm sure it depends much on the student. But unfortunately for any prospective buyers of this book, you can only figure out what kind of student you are by diving in and seeing what happens.
As a side note, my tenuous conclusion regarding books of this sort is that it's probably unnecessary for a layreader to learn the actual field equations that working physicists use. Much better, I think, is the approach taken by Feynman in QED, where instead of teaching the reader the equations physicists use to calculate answers efficiently, he reveals what's happening behind these equations, which is I think far more interesting, if far less efficient for any would-be experimenter. Of course, comparisons to Feynman are a bit unfair in this regard, since he was so damned good at explaining things, so I won't hold it against Collier.