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3.48 AVERAGE
3.48 AVERAGE
I was fooled by the cover and honestly thought that this book would talk about math in pairing. Whoops.
What I liked about this book was that Frenkel explains his love of math and theories, but also talks about his journey to becoming a mathematician in dire circumstances.
I'm not a math person, but I really enjoyed this book due to the humanisation of math and the passion the writer showed for his subject. It felt like getting a glimpse into a world that is fascinating and strange.
Did it make me love math? No. But after being recruited into teaching it and then reading this book, I have a better appreciation for it.
What I liked about this book was that Frenkel explains his love of math and theories, but also talks about his journey to becoming a mathematician in dire circumstances.
I'm not a math person, but I really enjoyed this book due to the humanisation of math and the passion the writer showed for his subject. It felt like getting a glimpse into a world that is fascinating and strange.
Did it make me love math? No. But after being recruited into teaching it and then reading this book, I have a better appreciation for it.
Como autobiografia é maravilhoso. Gostei muito de ler sobre a história de vida do Frenkel, sobre o processo de admissão bizarríssimo na Universidade de Moscou, sobre como ele superou as adversidades que o antissemitismo impôs na vida dele.
Apesar disso, demorei muito pra ler porque enquanto lia sobre aas peripécias matemáticas de um gênio como ele (que publicou o primeiro artigo com menos de 20 anos, não lembro direito), eu estava lutando pra entender coisas já estabelecidas da minha área de pesquisa e não conseguindo. E quando consegui, não voltei a ler...
Vou dizer que além disso, todos os detalhes matemáticos apesar de estarem nas notas de rodapé, são muito técnicas para um livro que se vende como divulgação científica.
Apesar disso, demorei muito pra ler porque enquanto lia sobre aas peripécias matemáticas de um gênio como ele (que publicou o primeiro artigo com menos de 20 anos, não lembro direito), eu estava lutando pra entender coisas já estabelecidas da minha área de pesquisa e não conseguindo. E quando consegui, não voltei a ler...
Vou dizer que além disso, todos os detalhes matemáticos apesar de estarem nas notas de rodapé, são muito técnicas para um livro que se vende como divulgação científica.
Half memoir, half an attempt to provide a layperson's explanation of modern mathematical progress towards finding the connections between different branches of math (and theoretical physics). The memoir pieces were sweet and provide a good counter-example to the typical pop-culture representation of mathematicians (half-crazy and aloof). Edward Frenkel needed a lot more explanation to get the mathematical ideas across, though. I followed along OK for the first two-thirds of the book, but I think that was only because of prior exposure to group theory and quantum field theory.
What I understand of the research Edward Frenkel is a part of (the Langlands Program) sounds like something grand and important and it deserves a good popular explanation. But this isn't it, not yet.
What I understand of the research Edward Frenkel is a part of (the Langlands Program) sounds like something grand and important and it deserves a good popular explanation. But this isn't it, not yet.
Earnest recounting of the author's, a Soviet Jew, path to becoming a professional mathematician and his discoveries. The math gets complicated despite the author's best intents.
En 'Amor y matemáticas' encontramos varios frentes abiertos: una parte es eminentemente autobiográfica, otra parte es investigación matemática, y también hay hueco para la discriminación (hacia los judíos en la Unión Soviética) y un posicionamiento ideológico del autor. Todo ello está bien entrelazado a lo largo de la obra, con unos capítulos en que el peso recae más sobre una parte y otros en los que realza otra de ellas.
La parte autobiográfica resulta de cierto interés, de joven prodigio en la URSS con dificultades para seguir el camino adecuado por ser de ascendencia judía, a profesor de prestigio en Estados Unidos en la actualidad. Además de plasmar en la parte final del libro cómo ha diversificado sus intereses escribiendo un guión que posteriormente ha conseguido llevar a los cines.
La parte matemática, de divulgación científica, está hilvanada a partir de su autobiografía, pues en todo momento aparece para explicar sus propios estudios e investigaciones, fijando especial atención en el programa Langlands.
Frenkel dice en el prefacio lo siguiente: "Lo he escrito para lectores sin ningún conocimiento matemático previo. Si cree que las matemáticas son difíciles, que no lo va a entender, si está aterrorizado por las matemáticas, pero al mismo tiempo siente curiosidad por ver si hay algo que valga la pena saber... entonces este libro es par usted".
Estoy en total desacuerdo con esa pretensión, me parece totalmente alejada de la realidad; los conceptos matemáticos que explica son complejos, las ideas que desarrolla profundas y una persona sin formación física/matemática me parece que va a entender muy poquito de la parte divulgativa. Dudo mucho que esos lectores a los que dice dirigirse sean capaces de apreciar la belleza de las matemáticas que él quiere transmitir, más allá de los primeros capítulos pronto se perderán en definiciones y relaciones que nada tienen de sencillas.
También promete llevar a cabo toda esa divulgación sin apenas fórmulas matemáticas, y esto sí lo consigue... pero dado que considero que el lector con escaso bagaje en la materia no es el objetivo realista del libro, el lector con ciertos conocimientos sí agradecería una mayor presencia de definiciones y resultados presentados con notación matemática. Ello contribuiría a facilitar el seguimiento de los desarrollos y exposiciones que hace, pues al limitarse a una simple expresión verbal hace que algunas de las ideas o pasos que da queden un poco cojos o parezcan oscuros de más.
Respecto a la parte de la discriminación, pues siempre resulta interesante conocer un caso de primera mano, siendo además como es en una realidad bastante alejada de la que yo conozco. Y no juzgo su posicionamiento ideológico, que está inevitablemente sesgado por su experiencia vital. Y tratándose como se trata de una obra en parte autobiográfica, la ideología de quien escribe es parte esencial de la persona, y si queremos acercarnos a él tendremos que conocerla. Frenkel no oculta sus filias/fobias en esos aspectos, sus palabras desprenden sinceridad.
La parte autobiográfica resulta de cierto interés, de joven prodigio en la URSS con dificultades para seguir el camino adecuado por ser de ascendencia judía, a profesor de prestigio en Estados Unidos en la actualidad. Además de plasmar en la parte final del libro cómo ha diversificado sus intereses escribiendo un guión que posteriormente ha conseguido llevar a los cines.
La parte matemática, de divulgación científica, está hilvanada a partir de su autobiografía, pues en todo momento aparece para explicar sus propios estudios e investigaciones, fijando especial atención en el programa Langlands.
Frenkel dice en el prefacio lo siguiente: "Lo he escrito para lectores sin ningún conocimiento matemático previo. Si cree que las matemáticas son difíciles, que no lo va a entender, si está aterrorizado por las matemáticas, pero al mismo tiempo siente curiosidad por ver si hay algo que valga la pena saber... entonces este libro es par usted".
Estoy en total desacuerdo con esa pretensión, me parece totalmente alejada de la realidad; los conceptos matemáticos que explica son complejos, las ideas que desarrolla profundas y una persona sin formación física/matemática me parece que va a entender muy poquito de la parte divulgativa. Dudo mucho que esos lectores a los que dice dirigirse sean capaces de apreciar la belleza de las matemáticas que él quiere transmitir, más allá de los primeros capítulos pronto se perderán en definiciones y relaciones que nada tienen de sencillas.
También promete llevar a cabo toda esa divulgación sin apenas fórmulas matemáticas, y esto sí lo consigue... pero dado que considero que el lector con escaso bagaje en la materia no es el objetivo realista del libro, el lector con ciertos conocimientos sí agradecería una mayor presencia de definiciones y resultados presentados con notación matemática. Ello contribuiría a facilitar el seguimiento de los desarrollos y exposiciones que hace, pues al limitarse a una simple expresión verbal hace que algunas de las ideas o pasos que da queden un poco cojos o parezcan oscuros de más.
Respecto a la parte de la discriminación, pues siempre resulta interesante conocer un caso de primera mano, siendo además como es en una realidad bastante alejada de la que yo conozco. Y no juzgo su posicionamiento ideológico, que está inevitablemente sesgado por su experiencia vital. Y tratándose como se trata de una obra en parte autobiográfica, la ideología de quien escribe es parte esencial de la persona, y si queremos acercarnos a él tendremos que conocerla. Frenkel no oculta sus filias/fobias en esos aspectos, sus palabras desprenden sinceridad.
Too advanced Mathematics. Some of the definitions are novel. I wish someone suggested these type of books and thoughts while studying Mathematics at school. I recommend this for my kids.
I’m disappointed that so many people seem underwhelmed by the autobiographical parts of this book and feel that they are ancillary to Frenkel’s purpose. I disagree: they are, in fact, the heart and soul of Love & Math. Without them, this would be a fairly intense treatise on deep connections between abstract algebra, algebraic geometry, and quantum physics. With them, Frenkel demonstrates how the study of mathematics and a devotion to thought for thought’s sake, to fulfil human curiosity helped him personally through anti-Semitism and Soviet persecution. In some ways I was reminded of remarks Neil Turok makes in The Universe Within (if I am remembering correctly) about the state of education in many African countries depriving us of staggering potential intellects. How many people, poor or Jewish or otherwise unprivileged, were not as lucky as Frenkel happened to be?
Frenkel’s personal recollections are also interesting because they provide a glimpse into the lifestyle and community of professional mathematicians. This is not something most people think about, even people who are scientifically-minded. There are a few famously reclusive or otherwise lone-wolf mathematicians out there (though I think that most of them at least maintain some kind of correspondence with a few respected colleagues), but for the most part, twentieth and twenty-first century mathematics is very much a group endeavour. Frenkel describes how he helped to organize new research in the Langlands Program by gathering together mathematicians from various institutions to hear their input. Belying the stereotypes, mathematics is a very social world.
Ultimately, of course, the personal parts of the story are essential to Frenkel’s explanation of why he loves math. Again, I must disagree with those reviewers who pan this book because it doesn’t inspire them to love math … that was never the aim. Neither the book nor Frenkel are naive enough to believe that, I think. But I suspect one reason many people react the way they do when one reveals one’s mathematical inclinations is genuine bewilderment over the idea that a “normal” person could actually love math. As Frenkel points out, even when mathematical achievements are depicted in popular culture, the subject is always a social outsider.
(In a way, it’s similar to this whole idea of left brain/right brain people. “Oh, you’re a left brain person!” and, when people find out I teach both math and English, “You’ve got a weird left and right brain thing going on!” But the truth is, a lot of people in “left brain” positions that require logical reasoning are also very creative and passionate and linguistic—and a lot of “right brain” thinkers are also organized and calculating. Humans are diverse, and the stereotypes and categories we create are not that good at classifying us.)
The autobiographical elements also humanize what might otherwise be a fairly involved book. When Frenkel talks about loving math, he isn’t pulling a Cabinet of Curiosities here. Don’t get me wrong: I’m all for books explaining elementary math. But I’m pleased that Frenkel tackles much higher-concept, abstract mathematics in a nonetheless accessible and approachable way.
I’ve forgotten a lot of my undergraduate math, I am sorry to say. One day I’ll delve back into ring theory and group theory for some fun. I’m pleased by how much I do remember, however. I recognized a great deal of what Frenkel explained, even though some of it still managed to escape me. So when I say Love & Math is accessible, I’m not claiming Frenkel is going to help you comprehend abstract algebra. Rather, he demonstrates some of the concepts that power abstract algebra through some clever diagrams and explanations, and he connects abstract algebra to quantum physics.
I particularly enjoyed this latter endeavour. I knew that symmetry was one of the most significant aspects of group theory, but I didn’t understand the specific ways in which group theory actually underlies a good deal of the interactions between subatomic particles. So that was cool. There are many points where Frenkel basically explains the math behind the physics, then says, “Oh, and mathematicians figured this out long before physicists came along and discovered the math was useful.” That’s not to say math is more important than physics (that’s just, like, self-evident), but I love that we can build these models in math without any reference to the physical world … and then somehow, these models become useful in explaining the physical world. That is just mind-boggling.
As an educator, I also sympathized with another remark Frenkel makes, rather early in the book. He compares the teaching of math in high schools now to the prospect of teaching art by having students paint fences. That is, we barely get to scratch the surface of what mathematics is in high school. Frenkel speaks of quadratics with the disdain only a pure mathematician could muster. But it’s true: I don’t blame students for thinking that math is boring, because the topics we drill into them and the way we do it tends to communicate that fact. You really don’t need to know the quadratic formula—not in the days of Wolfram Alpha—but symmetry? That’s not only important but beautiful as well.
Honestly, Love & Math is not going to make you love math, and it was never supposed to. It’s not going to teach you group theory or representation theory, and you probably won’t have any clue what a Riemannian Surface or a Kac–Moody Algebra is after reading the book. (Maybe you’ll understand what a group is, in some way.) If you’re really interested in learning those things, there are books and videos and courses and wikis to help you out.
Instead, Love & Math is one mathematician’s story of how he fell in love with math, how it saved and defined his life, and how he feels honoured and awed that he has had the chance to give back to the mathematical community. Frenkel goes so far as to make a weird surrealist movie about loving math … and that is not my thing, but it’s clearly his thing, and I’m all for people doing their thing. So you go, Frenkel. And while you do that, hopefully some of the people who read this book come away with a better understanding of what it might mean to love math, even if they don’t quite share that feeling themselves.
Frenkel’s personal recollections are also interesting because they provide a glimpse into the lifestyle and community of professional mathematicians. This is not something most people think about, even people who are scientifically-minded. There are a few famously reclusive or otherwise lone-wolf mathematicians out there (though I think that most of them at least maintain some kind of correspondence with a few respected colleagues), but for the most part, twentieth and twenty-first century mathematics is very much a group endeavour. Frenkel describes how he helped to organize new research in the Langlands Program by gathering together mathematicians from various institutions to hear their input. Belying the stereotypes, mathematics is a very social world.
Ultimately, of course, the personal parts of the story are essential to Frenkel’s explanation of why he loves math. Again, I must disagree with those reviewers who pan this book because it doesn’t inspire them to love math … that was never the aim. Neither the book nor Frenkel are naive enough to believe that, I think. But I suspect one reason many people react the way they do when one reveals one’s mathematical inclinations is genuine bewilderment over the idea that a “normal” person could actually love math. As Frenkel points out, even when mathematical achievements are depicted in popular culture, the subject is always a social outsider.
(In a way, it’s similar to this whole idea of left brain/right brain people. “Oh, you’re a left brain person!” and, when people find out I teach both math and English, “You’ve got a weird left and right brain thing going on!” But the truth is, a lot of people in “left brain” positions that require logical reasoning are also very creative and passionate and linguistic—and a lot of “right brain” thinkers are also organized and calculating. Humans are diverse, and the stereotypes and categories we create are not that good at classifying us.)
The autobiographical elements also humanize what might otherwise be a fairly involved book. When Frenkel talks about loving math, he isn’t pulling a Cabinet of Curiosities here. Don’t get me wrong: I’m all for books explaining elementary math. But I’m pleased that Frenkel tackles much higher-concept, abstract mathematics in a nonetheless accessible and approachable way.
I’ve forgotten a lot of my undergraduate math, I am sorry to say. One day I’ll delve back into ring theory and group theory for some fun. I’m pleased by how much I do remember, however. I recognized a great deal of what Frenkel explained, even though some of it still managed to escape me. So when I say Love & Math is accessible, I’m not claiming Frenkel is going to help you comprehend abstract algebra. Rather, he demonstrates some of the concepts that power abstract algebra through some clever diagrams and explanations, and he connects abstract algebra to quantum physics.
I particularly enjoyed this latter endeavour. I knew that symmetry was one of the most significant aspects of group theory, but I didn’t understand the specific ways in which group theory actually underlies a good deal of the interactions between subatomic particles. So that was cool. There are many points where Frenkel basically explains the math behind the physics, then says, “Oh, and mathematicians figured this out long before physicists came along and discovered the math was useful.” That’s not to say math is more important than physics (that’s just, like, self-evident), but I love that we can build these models in math without any reference to the physical world … and then somehow, these models become useful in explaining the physical world. That is just mind-boggling.
As an educator, I also sympathized with another remark Frenkel makes, rather early in the book. He compares the teaching of math in high schools now to the prospect of teaching art by having students paint fences. That is, we barely get to scratch the surface of what mathematics is in high school. Frenkel speaks of quadratics with the disdain only a pure mathematician could muster. But it’s true: I don’t blame students for thinking that math is boring, because the topics we drill into them and the way we do it tends to communicate that fact. You really don’t need to know the quadratic formula—not in the days of Wolfram Alpha—but symmetry? That’s not only important but beautiful as well.
Honestly, Love & Math is not going to make you love math, and it was never supposed to. It’s not going to teach you group theory or representation theory, and you probably won’t have any clue what a Riemannian Surface or a Kac–Moody Algebra is after reading the book. (Maybe you’ll understand what a group is, in some way.) If you’re really interested in learning those things, there are books and videos and courses and wikis to help you out.
Instead, Love & Math is one mathematician’s story of how he fell in love with math, how it saved and defined his life, and how he feels honoured and awed that he has had the chance to give back to the mathematical community. Frenkel goes so far as to make a weird surrealist movie about loving math … and that is not my thing, but it’s clearly his thing, and I’m all for people doing their thing. So you go, Frenkel. And while you do that, hopefully some of the people who read this book come away with a better understanding of what it might mean to love math, even if they don’t quite share that feeling themselves.
Argh, finally finished this book. Unsurprisingly, it does not work as an audiobook. Do not buy it from Audible.
I think when I got it, I believed it was more of a book about mathematicians or a fictionalised autobiography, than a book about maths. It's sort of both, but there is a fair amount of actual maths (and significantly advanced maths, at that). And that's just impossible to make sense of while listening. Particularly as the narrator, Tony Craine, clearly has absolutely no idea what he is saying, so his emphasis is often totally off, or he reads things in a way that doesn't distinguish where brackets would be, so it's just impossible to follow no matter how hard you listen - there's not enough information conveyed.
The story itself I really enjoyed - it was a fascinating account of education and anti-semitism in Soviet Russia, as well as great insight into the lives of professional mathematicians. I did a maths degree so I can't comment on how it would come across to the layman, but I found the actual maths a bit hard-going and uninteresting - these are difficult, complicated concepts that weren't very interesting when you can't get into either the nitty-gritty or appreciate the broader concepts.
A bit of a mixed bag. Quite enjoyable in parts, but I'm glad to be done. Don't get the audiobook.
I think when I got it, I believed it was more of a book about mathematicians or a fictionalised autobiography, than a book about maths. It's sort of both, but there is a fair amount of actual maths (and significantly advanced maths, at that). And that's just impossible to make sense of while listening. Particularly as the narrator, Tony Craine, clearly has absolutely no idea what he is saying, so his emphasis is often totally off, or he reads things in a way that doesn't distinguish where brackets would be, so it's just impossible to follow no matter how hard you listen - there's not enough information conveyed.
The story itself I really enjoyed - it was a fascinating account of education and anti-semitism in Soviet Russia, as well as great insight into the lives of professional mathematicians. I did a maths degree so I can't comment on how it would come across to the layman, but I found the actual maths a bit hard-going and uninteresting - these are difficult, complicated concepts that weren't very interesting when you can't get into either the nitty-gritty or appreciate the broader concepts.
A bit of a mixed bag. Quite enjoyable in parts, but I'm glad to be done. Don't get the audiobook.