A Mind of Its Own: How Your Brain Distorts and Deceives
by Cordelia Fine
Icon Books, £9.99, ISBN 1840466782

For those of us who like to put consciousness to the fore, and who take pride in rationality over mere emotion or prejudice, this slim little volume provides something of a challenge. There’s no denying that it’s entertaining, and it’s written in an engaging and none too serious style, but it packs a punch all the same. In six short chapters Cordelia Fine picks apart at the mighty edifice of the rational brain and, quoting extensively from the research literature, reveals a vain, egotistical, devious, untruthful and bigoted organ. The picture of the mind that emerges has more in common with an unscrupulous populist politician than a fairminded seeker of truth. I’d find this incredibly depressing, but of course having read the book my mind is apt to put aside what it has just learned and is happier to offer me the comforting illusions of reason. Oh well, it’s not my fault, for according to the research the mind plays this sort of trick more often than not. Fine writes with a light touch: there’s a gentle humour and a peppering of homely anecdotes throughout the book. But the research she draws on is serious enough, and for those who need convincing there are plenty of notes and references to follow up.
By the end of the book one could be forgiven for thinking that we are mere dupes of the brain – that consciousness itself is an illusion and that what we think of as reasoning is usually a post-hoc rationalisation of some far deeper process. However, if that is the case then how is it that we can read a book cover to cover? How is that anyone could write a book in the first place? Intention and concentration together are evidence of some process that we can label consciousness. Even if we’re still not sure of what’s going on deep under the surface, there’s still something there.

So, despite the lying, the scheming, the clinging-on to prejudices and the other vices that our brains are prone to – and which this book does much to shed light on – we shouldn’t resign ourselves to the idea that conscious reason itself is a complete illusion.

Pan Pantziarka

The Nativity: History and Legend
by Geza Vermes
Penguin Books, £7.99 (pb), ISBN 0-141-12446-1

Christian dogma rests on the life and teaching of Jesus Christ and in particular on his birth and death. Geza Vermes, one of the most distinguished of contemporary Biblical scholars, here examines the first of these. The direct evidence for the Jesus story comes in the New Testament, above all in the four Gospels.
These were, of course, all composed some time after the events they describe, and are a selection from an unknown number of accounts, oral and written, that circulated in the early years of Christianity. The Gospel accounts are inconsistent with each other, and also internally. Only two, Luke and Matthew, deal with the birth of Jesus. They do so in quite different and contradictory ways. Internally, Luke provides an elaborate genealogy for Joseph, the husband of Mary, Jesus’ mother, to show that he was descended from King David. Thus his son would be eligible to be the Royal Messiah. But he also makes it clear that Jesus was literally the son of God, not Joseph. Vermes quietly and methodically teases out the various strands that make up the two accounts, drawing on obviously immense scholarship, but writing with elegant clarity. He shows what must have been added by the gospel writers, or later editors, and what may be based on historical fact. There are those who suggest that Jesus never lived at all, but a more balanced view is that he was a charismatic preacher who was born about 4 or 5 BCE and was executed some thirty-plus years later. Stories and legends accumulated around him for several centuries, and such were the two nativity accounts. Vermes concludes that the purpose was “the creation of a prologue, enveloping the newborn Jesus with an aura of marvel and enigma”, and thus fitting him to be the divine Saviour of the new religion as it broke from its Jewish roots and sought to become universal.

John Radford

That’s Bollocks!: Urban Legends, Conspiracy Theories and Old Wives’ Tales
by Albert Jack
Penguin Books, £12.99 (hb), ISBN 0 140 51574 7

…You said it, pal. You know Christmas is coming when sorry accumulations like this appear. Albert Jack has mostly cobbled together bits from Fortean Times and tabloid “it’s a weird old world” columns. The rest of it has been culled from a few lazy sessions sticking terms like “urban legend”, “conspiracy theory” and “old wives’ tales” into Google and adding a smug tone to hold it together. The result is a rehash of generally familiar tales that he invariably fails to exploit fully, such as missing out the ending of the story about the man who blows himself up on the toilet then is dropped from the stretcher by laughing paramedics. He doesn’t even seem to understand what an urban legend is. A number of the items are tagged with “this is a true story”. An example is the story of how Jack Nicholson’s sister turned out to be his mother. Peculiar it may be, urban legend it isn’t. Whether Mick Jagger and David Bowie went to bed together is just showbiz gossip.
Then we have the man tying helium balloons to his deckchair, which obviously isn’t about Larry Walters who achieved precisely this feat in California in 1982 because Jack states that his version, about “Harry”, is unlikely to be true (though strangely Harry paraphrases Walters’ famous “a man can’t just sit around” remark ; now that is weird). When Jack gets on to the ‘myth’ of global warming, it becomes clear what he is – a pub bore with a word processor. Pitted against Gore, I know which Al I would put my money on. The biggest mystery is why Penguin produced a good quality hardback when its contents were the equivalent of chicken nuggets. Despite the declaration that this is a study of urban legends, it is just an undemanding bog book. If you want a proper survey of urban legends read Jan Harold Brunvand (Jack clearly has). If That’s Bollocks does well we are promised a follow-up.
Please don’t encourage him.

Tom Ruffles

Just Another Day: The Science and Technology of our Everyday Lives
by Adam Hart-Davis
Orion Books, ISBN 0752873342

Given the relentless tide of mind-shrinking nonsense that drenches popular culture thanks to credulous and/or cynical tabloid newspapers, television channels and other media, any attempt to lure people into taking some interest in the science behind our daily experiences is, on the face of it, very welcome.

Unfortunately, the face in question here is the grinning beard of Adam Hart- Davis, who seems to imagine that he is a fascinating eccentric, and that the minutiae of his daily life will be of huge interest. Every other page features yet another photograph of His Worship in eyestinging “look at Adam Hart-Davis!” outfits. Photography is illustrated by a picture of Adam Hart-Davis taking a photograph. Bicycles are explained via several pictures of Adam Hart-Davis riding bicycles, in case we have never encountered any.

The conceit of the book is that, by following the activities of an average day, we can be led to consider sleep, food, hygiene (the cover is graced with an image of Adam Hart-Davis on the toilet), travel, work, and so on. Why we have to know about what time Adam Hart-Davis makes morning tea for Sue Blackmore, or the fact that Adam Hart-Davis’ work apparently involves speaking to “large audiences”, is far from clear.

There have been other far more appealing books about the science of everyday life, by such authors as David Bodanis (The Secret House), John Emsley (Molecules at an Exhibition) and Len Fisher (How to Dunk a Doughnut). Books like Lawrence M. Krauss’s The Physics of Star Trek can be another handy detergent for non-starter paranormalist fantasies. They are books that are actually about science.

Adam Hart-Davis is also the author of Taking the Piss.

Paul Taylor

Opus Dei: The Truth About Its Rituals, Secrets and Power
by John L Allen
Penguin Books, £8.99 (pb), ISBN 0141024658

Thanks to Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code (and also the news that Ruth Kelly is a member) popular interest in Opus Dei has never been higher. Journalist John L Allen has sought to present an objective account that dispels some of the myths and conspiracy theories that have accrued around the organisation founded by the recently canonised Spanish cleric Josemaría Escriva. Allen does indeed attempt to present a balanced account of Opus Dei. As part of this he has spent more than a year in the company of members and officials of the group. He gives voice to the many individuals that he has spent time with, letting them speak about their experiences, views and ideas. Allen tackles many of the controversial questions head on: the practices of ‘mortification’, secretiveness, political policies and influence, the life and times of Escriva, sexism and so on. In all instances Allen appears to give Opus Dei the benefit of the doubt. For example, on the vexed question of political influence, Allen repeatedly quotes the party line that Opus Dei allows its members freedom of conscience. With respect to the practices of the ‘mortification of the flesh’, a practice that excites feverish interest because of its sado-erotic nature, Allen is content to point out that other Catholic sects also engage in the practice. He does not entertain any questions as to the sexuality of such activities.
It should be noted that Allen is a Catholic himself, and therefore the kind of criticisms that an atheist or secularist would make of Opus Dei are not natural to him. The fact that other Catholic orders engage in similar activities to Opus Dei would not normally be considered a good defence.
Those looking for a counter-point to the salacious and conspiratorial view of Opus Dei will find that this book takes great pains to set the record straight. However, those looking for a more critical response will be disappointed. Allen has produced the sort of recruitment manual that the organisation itself could not have delivered.

Pan Pantziarka

A Teaspoon and an Open Mind: What Would an Alien Look Like? Is Time Travel Possible? and Other Intergalactic Conumdrums from the World of “Doctor Who”
by Michael White
Penguin Books, £8.99 (pb), ISBN 0-141-02481-X

Although the book claims to look at “intergalactic conundrums from the world of Doctor Who”, there are only brief references to the show; the author is really just cashing in on the revival. There is a glance at Tardis technology in the Epilogue but most of the sci-fi technology could equally be taken from Star Trek, which he often mentions.
This is mostly a review of the current state of technology and recent discoveries, with some speculation about the future. White does use solid science, keeping an open mind where this is the scientific thing to do. He debunks Atlantis but is open to alien life and cautiously open to telepathy, for example. The chapters are loosely themed around Dr Who ideas – time travel, aliens, teleportation, robots and so on, concluding that we do not currently have the technology to make these possible but in some cases may do in the future.
Teleportation, time travel and galaxy-hopping would take vast amounts of energy, quite apart from minor considerations like the known laws of the universe. There are the usual fears about sentient robots and extending human life indefinitely, although White does embrace the idea that imagination can lead from fiction to fact. As he says, it is the ability to develop that separates science from “mere belief systems”. He speculates about what aliens might look like, based on sound evolutionary and environmental principles. But if they do exist, would they want to visit us, given what they may have picked up from TV and radio emissions?
For any sci-fi nerd (sorry, expert), the book covers very familiar ground adding little new, and Dr Who fans will be disappointed. That said, this is an intelligent, readable introduction to ideas like wormholes, cyborgs, antimatter, temporal paradoxes and the laws of physics, that make science fiction staples possible, impossible or just very unlikely to become science fact.

Tessa Kendall

Spook: Science Tackles the Afterlife
by Mary Roach
Norton Paperback, £12.69, ISBN 978-0-393-32912-4

Is there life after death and, if so, how can we find out? One way is to sort the wheat from the chaff, discarding any ‘mystery’ that can be scientifically explained to see what, if anything, is left. Roach looks at attempts past and present to explore the Big Sleep in a chatty, often jokey style underpinned by solid research and historical detail. She interviews scientists and believers as she looks at (among other things) reincarnation, the search for the soul, spiritualism, EVP, EMF, infrasound and neardeath experiences. She also tries some things out for herself – a mediumship course, recording spirit voices and meeting reincarnated people in India. She is not convinced.
She says that, ”for millions of people, religion will turn out to have been a bum steer as regards the hereafter. Science seemed a better bet”. As a good sceptic, she keeps an open mind and readily admits what science has yet to prove or disprove.
The book is full of fascinating stories and findings, from attempts to weigh the souls of mice and early theories about sperm to solid recent work on how EMF and infrasound can cause hallucinations, a racing heart, sensations of a presence and other ‘spooky’ reactions in certain people. While this can explain some experiences, she also considers the possibility that EMF, for example, simply opens receptive people up to something that is really there. She points out that many good scientists in the past were fooled or came to the wrong conclusions with the best of intentions. After meeting would-be mediums, she also decides that many are fooling themselves about their abilities rather than deliberately trying to con the punters. Roach’s conclusion is that, while science has so far cleared a lot of mud from the waters, there is still a big “Who knows?” to be resolved in many areas. The book is a good introduction to the subject of the afterlife and a useful source of research findings that debunk many claims. Don’t be put off by the title.

Tessa Kendall

After Atheism: Science, Religion and the Meaning of Life
By Mark Vernon
Palgrave Macmillan £18.99 ISBN 0230013414

It is a shame that Mark Vernon and his version of agnosticism is not as well-known or as controversial as Richard Dawkins and his version of atheism. But then, if Vernon was well-known or controversial, he would not have written the book he has written. The book starts from a place of not knowing, and ends in a place of not knowing, but brings the message along the way that uncertainty is just fine. There is truth and beauty in silence, according to Vernon – silence is what brings us to wisdom, and wisdom, in true Socratic fashion, is dependent upon how much you understand what you don’t know.
This is a truly delightful book, written with wit, humility and poetry, but more importantly than that, it is a book full of enquiry. He pays homage to wise men across the ages, whatever their discipline, and claims that as an agnostic he is in pretty good company: Socrates, Einstein, Thomas Aquinas, Anthony Kenny to name but a few. However, and here is where you may be lost or converted, Vernon describes himself as a “Christian agnostic”, not, as I originally thought, an agnostic who appreciates Christian worship as an art form, but someone who starts from a place of “learned ignorance” (Vernon was a vicar, then an atheist, before coming to rest somewhere in the middle). Christian agnosticism is a difficult concept to get your head round – surely if you are agnostic you don’t know whether any gods exist, not just the Christian one? Vernon likens it to the belief system he claims underpinned Socrates’ arguments – Socrates started his quest at the oracle of Delphi, and ended by sending sacrifice to the gods after drinking hemlock. Rather than this being a version of Pascal’s Wager, it is an acknowledgement that Socrates (and therefore Vernon) did not know and would never know why and how we are here. This in itself demands enormous respect for something, respect that Vernon clearly also feels. Science, Religion and the Meaning of Life is a title that takes some living up to, even if it is meant ironically.
Vernon does live up to it, in a gentle, probing way that leaves the reader wanting more.

Sally Marlow