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"The mathematician yearns for philosophy."

Here I'm quoting a great personal friend of mine, a mathematician and philosopher, who would make this remark early on in our friendship, noting how our conversations consistently drifted from mathematics (the subject we both share) to philosophy (his alone) and more often than not, the philosophy of mathematics. Rebecca Goldstein exposes beautifully the intrinsic links between the subjects and it is easy to see that all mathematicians are also philosophers, indeed whether or not they may realise it.

I came to this book looking for a biography of Kurt Gödel and an exposition of his most famous work. Goldstein delivers this while also providing tantalising philosophical insight into Gödel's time with the Vienna Circle and the far-reaching consequences of his work (most unexpected perhaps those on our understanding of the mind, with Roger Penrose believing -- not uncontroversially -- the inability to reduce the workings of the brain to a formal system to be a corollary of Gödel, in effect to absolutely distinguish thought from machine).

It's ironic, then, that I find myself being left so unsatisfied by this book. I got everything I came for, but the brief glimpses of what I apparently really wanted -- to the vindication of my friend -- have left me wishing desperately that Goldstein had leaned more heavily into those aspects. Short book as it is, there could be room for both.

It's not lost on me that I may be being wholly unfair. I picked up a biography and am disappointed in its focus on biography. Incompleteness is everything it says on the tin and gives the reader threads to pick up on. I just can't shake the feeling of dissatisfaction. It's possible that I may revise my rating in future as I'm not so sure my feelings are the writer's fault - the writer who achieved everything she said she would.

I loved War of the Worlds. It's been on my shelf my whole life and somehow I never got round to it. It's the exact kind of speculative mundane science fiction that gets me really excited, and Wells' Victorian perspective adds another fascinating layer to that. It's fun to dream of a time where we still had no idea what the Martian surface could look like. Of course, if that's not your boat, then the progressive social commentary that Wells - writing at the height of empire - provides on British (settler-)colonialism through the lens of the Martian invaders is enough to make it worth reading.

The style of writing really sells the authenticity. The book is presented as one man's account of his experience during the invasion. Events are written largely as matter of fact, presented to inform the reader rather than sensationalise. Geographical locations are name dropped as though with the assumption that the reader should be familiar with them - and of course, if you happen to be, this makes the whole affair vividly imaginable. Particularly the many references to areas of west London I can imagine myself being witness to the Martians myself.

So Arren spoke, fiercely and with command. He had been overawed and frightened too much, he had been filled up with fear, and he had got sick of it and would not have it anymore. He was angry with the dragon for its brute strength and size, its unjust advantage. He had seen death, he had tasted death, and no threat had power over him.

The story starts slowly but soon turns into what is absolutely the most philosophically rich entry in the Earthsea series so far (as I read them in order), beautifully written in Ursula Le Guin's unrivaled eloquence. Every page contains a passage that in most books would be one of the most insightful quotes. The trials I am personally facing right now made the hero's journey in this book speak to my core on a level that I have not experienced before. Neil Gaiman got it right with "Her words are written on my soul."

Like most people, my first hearing of cosmologist Fred Hoyle came from the story of his mockingly coining the term Big Bang theory. After that, I heard about his Nobel prize-worthy prediction of the triple alpha process along with associated seemingly self-contradictory remarks about evidence of a creator. Every time this man came up it painted more of a picture of the kind of person that - although for sure is also incredibly clever - wants to disagree with everyone just for the sake of it.

So when I learned that he was also a science fiction writer - particularly the kind of hard sci-fi of [a:Arthur C. Clarke|7779|Arthur C. Clarke|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1357191481p2/7779.jpg] that I was so deeply fascinated by as a child - I was eager to read for myself what some have said to be "one of the greatest works of science fiction ever written."

My main problem with this book is that Hoyle is very annoying. The character of Kingsley is a transparent self-insert, which would not be a problem if it weren't for the level of arrogance that is inadvertently presented through this. He is an unquestionable genius, with the remaining cast frequently remarking on how outlandish or clever his plan at any time is, and the baffling insertions of plot-irrelevant scenes of his sexual conquests are jarring and just leave you cringing at Hoyle's presumption.

Despite this, the opening and closing chapters of [b:The Black Cloud|1246118|The Black Cloud|Fred Hoyle|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1457534017l/1246118.SY75.jpg|1398552] are completely enthralling. The level of insight into how science - and scientists - actually work(ed) and think makes for a compelling and thoroughly convincing narrative. It's one that I could see myself reading again and definitely recommending (with caveat) to anyone who enjoys this type of sci-fi.