Inventing the Victorians
by Matthew Sweet
Faber and Faber, £16.99, ISBN 0571206581

Opium, sex crime and serial killers aren’t usually the first things that spring to mind when anyone mentions Victorian values. But Matthew Sweet’s book argues that the Victorians may not have been as straight-laced as we’d like to think.
Sweet takes a skeptical look at our ideas about the Victorians, and reveals the truth behind the myths. Victorians did not drape piano legs in chintz to save their modesty, nor were Victorian ladies advised to “lie back and think of England”.
Even their restrictive rules of etiquette make sense once you know the reasons behind them. Victorian readers enjoyed reading about the exploits of serial killers, and best-selling sensational novels of the time featured bigamous, murderous heroines who would not be out of place in a modern thriller. Victorians invented the mass-production of pornography and enjoyed freak shows, whose star performers earned a fortune even by modern standards. Sweet aims to rescue the Victorians from “the enormous condescension of posterity.” Unlike many academic books, this is immensely readable and vastly entertaining. Even his most controversial statements are backed up by an impressive amount of facts, and I can’t fault his extensive research.
This fascinating and thought-provoking book is well worth reading. Who would have thought the Victorians had so much fun? As Sweet comments, “If Queen Victoria wasn’t amused, then she was in a very small minority.”

Final Seance: The Strange Friendship Between Houdini and Conan Doyle
by Massimo Polidoro
Prometheus Books, £21.99, ISBN 1573928968

In 1932 Ernst and Carrington wrote Houdini and Conan Doyle, a fascinating account of the relationship between Houdini, the famous magician and investigator of psychic fraud, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, an educated medical doctor famed for his Sherlock Holmes books, but also a renowned proponent of Spiritualism. In Final Séance Massimo Polidoro becomes our tour guide, embellishing and updating Ernst and Carrington’s subject matter with extensive research. Beginning with the mutual interest in the Davenports in 1920, possibly their first meeting, then giving us a florid whirlwind chronological tour of investigations.
These investigations, and especially the subsequent comments by Doyle, are related with a waggish smile from Polidoro. Despite this there is utmost respect for their obsessional hunt for truth. Massimo’s mammoth tour of mediums investigated by the two central figures takes us through Eva C., Nino Pecoraro, Ada Besinnet, Margery Crandon, and George Valiantine with many more gracing these fascinating pages. Correspondence between Houdini and Doyle provides an intriguing insight into a friendship that has as its battleground one of the most interesting periods in the history of psychical research.
Frequently we see Doyle attempting to gloss over Houdini’s reputation, somewhat of a hindrance, in an effort to have him sit in on séances. Conversely, we are given eyewitness accounts of Houdini’s replications of mediumistic phenomena and his attempts to convince Doyle not to turn to a paranormal explanation so facilely. The “Final Séance” that the book title refers to occurs in Atlantic City where, even now, fortune-tellers and parlour-room psychics ply their trade. It is this simple séance that holds the key to the friendship’s demise, and one can almost feel the frustration with which Houdini tries to deny his own apparent psychic ability that Doyle so readily insists he has. Polidoro’s tour of this unique duo with their common Spiritualism interest forging a friendship that moulded psychical history books, provides us with delightfully written snapshots – perfect for showing the guests at your next circle!

The Dream Drugstore: Chemically Altered States of Consciousness
by J Allan Hobson
MIT Press, £19.50, ISBN 0262082934

The title of this book is a reference to the chemical mechanisms of the brain that cause dreaming. As someone who has read other books about the brain and sleep this one was of particular interest to me. The author’s aim is to investigate states of consciousness with reference to his threedimensional state space model known as AIM. Briefly, the dimensions of this model are: “Activation” (energy levels in the brain), “Information Source” (input/output status of the brain), and “Modulation” (modulatory status of the brain). As a layperson I’m not in a position to decide how good or useful this model is, but at least it’s not too difficult to understand.
There are six chapters in the book, the subjects of which effectively split it into two parts. The first three chapters look at states of consciousness: normal ones such as waking and sleeping, and abnormal ones caused by dysfunctions like temporal lobe seizures. The last three chapters look at drugs (both prescribed and “recreational”) and the implications for treatment. From reading this book I gained a greater knowledge of how conscious states are reflections of, and affected by, the chemical goings on in the brain. However, I did find myself becoming overloaded with information at times. There’s no doubt that this book is worth reading by anybody wanting to understand more about the brain, and especially dreaming, but it does take quite a lot of mental effort in places to keep up with.
I think the reader is best served by using the book as a source of knowledge and should be wary of buying too much into the author’s conclusions. Many popular science books put forward new ideas and the problem is that lay readers are often not the best people to evaluate them.

The Mummy Congress: Science, Obsession and the Everlasting Dead
by Heather Pringle
4th Estate, £15.99, ISBN 1841151114

Among the theatrical attractions of 1830s Britain was “mummy unrolling”. Audiences of up to 2000 people paid to see entrepreneurs unwrap Egyptian mummies on stage. Heather Pringle’s book is the 21st century equivalent, investigating myths and the truth about mummies.
It’s not just Egypt. Pringle found mummies in Russia, China, Peru, Chile and Scandinavia, and interviewed the dedicated (and sometimes eccentric) people who study them. She met many mummy experts, including one of the men who embalmed Stalin, and a forensic scientist who specialises in investigating the “incorruptibility” of saints’ bodies.
Interest in mummies has not always been purely scientific. A 12th-century mistranslation of an ancient manuscript implied that powdered mummy was a powerful medicine for a range of illnesses. So tombs were raided and mummies ground into powder. Until less than a century ago, the powder was also used as a pigment for oil paint. Pre-Raphaelite artist Edward Burne-Jones was horrified to discover what he had been using, and promptly gave the tube of paint a decent burial in his garden. Early mummy collectors were a strange bunch. Victorian racist George Gliddon obsessively measured the size of mummies’ brain cavities in a forlorn attempt to “prove” white “superiority”. Edwardian Egyptologist Grafton Elliott Smith collected mummified penises. Why? Today’s experts are more respectable, but no less interesting. They complain that their studies are underfunded. Maybe this will change now that Pringle has given them such good publicity.

The Encyclopedia of Magic and Witchcraft: An Historical Exploration into the World of the Magician
by Susan Greenwood
Little Brown, £17.95, ISBN 0754805816

This is a beautiful book, well-presented, with high quality paper, print and illustrations. The title is a bit misleading: it is not an encyclopaedia in the usual sense, where one can look up a certain subject. Instead, it is a collection of short chapters treating a wide variety of topics concerning magic and witchcraft from ancient times to today, across many civilisations. The author tries to define and describe magic, shamanism, occultism, and their relations with society and religion, and provides a lot of interesting information along the way. Since the scope is so wide not all subjects will appeal to all readers, but that goes for any encyclopaedia.
Some chapters are less informative, and the illustrations can even be irritating because many have but little relevance to the subject. As a reader of an encyclopaedia one does not draw much information about the Greco-Roman or the Celtic period from reproductions from paintings by 18th to 20th century European artists, unless one accepts that this book is more intended as entertainment.
Another uneasy feeling came to me as a skeptic when I started to realize that the author is writing in defence of magic and really believes in it; and often the limit between objective data and the personal beliefs of the author is not well-defined. Some topics are treated too narrowly or are one sided, such as the small chapter called “Science and Magic”. The scientific view is represented only by one philosopher and two anthropologists.
The personal view of Greenwood on this subject sounds peculiar: “Magic is similar to science. It also offers an explanation of the world although it uses the medium of spiritual connection that cannot be measured in a laboratory.
The cause effect relation in spiritual Magic and science are different ways of thinking. All humans can exercise two ways of thinking: logical analytical and analogical or magical . . . both can be examined and understood through a scientific world view.”
This kind of threw me off, but then there followed some very good texts on famous witches and witchhunts, although with many illustrations that certainly have aesthetic value but provide no information on the subject.
When discussing astrology, the author laments that the link unifying the individual with the cosmos has been lost, and also states that the elixir of immortality was invented in China in the 4th century BC. Again it gave me a von Däniken feeling and it made me wonder how much all the other information can be trusted.
Do I recommend this book? I don’t know – it depends what you are looking for. It certainly is entertaining, and nice to have on the coffee table, not least for the illustrations. Some parts are very good and others are less so, but all are pleasant to the eye. Perhaps I should not have taken the title too literally.

Annie’s Box: Charles Darwin, His Daughter and Human Evolution
by Randal Keynes
4th Estate, £16.99, ISBN 1841150606

On 23 April 1851 Charles Darwin’s beloved ten-yearold daughter Annie died after a long illness. Randal Keynes’ book argues that this bereavement marked a turning-point in Darwin’s life and work: “After Annie’s death, Charles set the Christian faith firmly behind him” (p.222) and threw himself further into the researches which were to result in The Origin of Species and The Descent of Man. Keynes is Darwin’s greatgreat grandson, and has access to an impressive archive of family papers and artefacts, including the “box” which gives the book its title. Annie’s box was a portable writing-desk (the Victorian equivalent of a laptop computer) filled with her personal possessions. After her death, her griefstricken parents treasured it as a memento of her, and it became a family heirloom.
Annie’s short life is central to this book. Keynes posits that Darwin’s theories on the evolution of humanity from apes were formulated partly by observing his children’s growth from babies to fully sentient beings. But does Keynes over-estimate the effect of Annie’s death? Would Darwin’s scientific research have led him to reject Christianity anyway? Yes, probably, but Keynes’ book is none the less interesting for that.
The book offers a detailed and reliable account of Darwin’s life, which will be welcome to those of us intimidated by the prospect of ploughing through Moore and Desmond’s authoritative biography (Darwin, by Adrian Desmond, James Moore, 1992, ISBN 0140131922). Keynes’ touching picture of the Darwins’ family life makes the book eminently readable even for those with no great interest in Darwin. Of course, this scholarly and erudite book will not be welcomed in Fundamentalist Christian quarters where it will be yet another red rag to the Creationist bull. But for skeptics, that’s a definite recommendation!

Hunt for Zero Point
by Nick Cook
Century, £17.99, ISBN 0712669531

I walked into the bookshop, my eyes glanced from side to side and then I saw it, “The hunt for zero-point”! My heart sped up as I slowly approached; here was the answer to the problems that had been plaguing me… Do you find the above prose style irritating to the point of distraction? I do, but unfortunately it was the style that Nick Cook decided to use when writing The Hunt For Zero-Point.
Nick Cook was a journalist with Jane’s Defence Weekly, a fact that I have managed to independently verify. I had heard a lot about antigravity and thought that this might be the book to pull together all the various strands of the pro- and anti- arguments into a sensible debate about the subject. I wish! The book is written in the first person and chronicles not the history of “antigravity” but the author’s attempts to investigate the field. The result is a bizarre entertaining high-tech film-noir thriller, but not a history book.
Mr Cook seems unaware of how history books should be written. First you present your facts and documents, then separately you interpret them. This book makes no distinction between the two — the reader is unaware of whether he is reading historical fact, or supposition. The research into the subject, however, was excellent. I have found many of the documents he mentions on the Internet. (Some of T T Brown’s antigravity patents mentioned in the book can be found at www.soteria.com/brown/info/patents.htm. The document “ELECTROGRAVITIC SYSTEMS: An examination of electrostatic motion, dynamic counterbary and barycentric control” which was supposedly a study funded by the U.S. Government and mentioned in the book can be found at www.padrak.com/ ine/INE24.htm).
The gist of the book is that in the 30s and 40s there was a lot of work concerning new propulsion systems, jet engines, rockets, pulsejets, and also anti-gravity machines, some of which was instigated by the Nazis.
The book goes on to “prove” that this information was hushed up by the US Government in the 50s and that the anti-gravity programs went on as “deep black” projects in Area 51 and other such sites. Personally, I think that Nick Cook has unearthed enough information to support the idea that research was hushed up in the 50s… (The CIA dabbled in telepathic spying so the idea of antigravity research isn’t too far fetched.) However, the simple fact of a lack of antigravity 747s or Stealth bombers throws doubt on the idea that these projects came up with anything. A more realistic scenario is that these secret research projects carried on for a few years, came up with nothing, and were cancelled.
If you’re interested in antigravity then I would recommend getting this book from a library. It holds up quite well as a science-fiction thriller, but not a science history book. The book does suffer from the lack of an index, but the bibliography is very useful. I would suggest obtaining the documents listed therein and making up your own mind.

Sense and Nonsense: Evolutionary Perspectives on Human Behaviour
by Kevin N. Laland and Gillian R. Brown
Oxford, £17.99 (hb), ISBN 0-19-850884-0

Evolution is the central idea in biology, so it makes sense to use it to take a good scientific look at human behaviour: in principle, human sociobiology is unobjectionable. So why did the actual results of this discipline (or at least the results as they reached a mainstream audience) seem such tosh: oversimplified and skimpily-supported speculations which conveniently reproduced historically local social norms? And just what do memeticists do all day? If, like me, you have ever asked these questions then you will be both pleased and illuminated by this book. The authors are Cambridge zoologists whose preparation for this book included talking to many of the major current researchers. The result is a model of clear science writing (I found myself agreeing with the flattering blurb). It starts with a historical discussion which takes us from the ethologists (politely trashing the deeply irritating populariser Desmond Morris, I’m pleased to say) to the fracas which followed the publication of E.O. Wilson’s Sociobiology. In fact, the term ‘sociobiology’ is rarely used these days. The authors then take us through the strengths and weakness of the four contemporary approaches. It seems that much of the work now being done is genuinely low on speculation and high on actual data: ‘human behavioural ecology’ seemed the most fanciable of the options to me. So what do memeticists do all day? Well, the authors tell us what they could be doing: just give it a few years…