The 4% Universe — Richard Panek

Cover of The 4% Universe


The 4% Universe: Dark Matter, Dark Energy, and the Race to Discover the Rest of Reality
Richard Panek
297 pages including notes and index
published in 2011

As a child reading Carl Sagan’s Cosmos it all seemed so simple. Some 13-14 billion years ago the Big Bang started the universe, which has been expanding ever since. In due time as it cooled off the first stars and galaxies appeared, formed from primordial hydrogen & helium gases through the power of gravitational attractions. The novas and supernovas from those first generations of stars would create the heavier elements needed for life to arise and ultimately the Solar System would form with the Earth being just right for us to evolve on. As Sagan explained, what would happen next depended very much on the total mass of the universe. If big enough, gravity would slow down its expansion and cause it to collapse, maybe triggering a new Big Bang. If small enough, the expansion could not be stopped and first galaxies, then stars would drift further and further apart until we were alone. If just right, expansion would stop but the collapse would be prevented. Knowing the mass of the universe therefore is important.

And this is where the problems arise: if you count up the mass of all the galaxies, stars, quasars, pulsars, etc, everything you can see with the electromagnetic spectrum, the amount of observable mass of the universe is just four percent of what it actually is according to all our other measurements. There has to be something else therefore that makes up the difference and it’s this something else is what is driving the fate of the universe. It’s the quest to discover what this might be that is the topic of The 4% Universe.

Panek starts this quest in 1964, just before the discover of the cosmic microwave background, following the story until he reaches the present consensus on what the universe looks like and what its likely fate is. Since this was published in 2011 the state of the art has moved on in the almost decade and a half since this was written, but that isn’t a major problem. Much of the The 4% Universe is about the journey of discovery and the people involved, how the then current consensus was reached, which is still interesting even if it has moved on since. Following a roughly chronological order, Panek divides the story in roughly four parts, looking at the different aspects of the problem of the universe’s missing mass. This turns out to be not just a problem for astronomers looking at stars and galaxies and finding too few, but also for cosmologists whose mathematical theories about the universe are directly impacted by this missing mass and particle scientists, whose models might hold the key to solving the problem.

As Panek puts the building blocks together, the picture that emerges is roughly that which you can read at the Wikipedia page on the Universe. That simple history Sagan showed me turned to be much more complicated. What you see in the night sky is not the entire universe and the largest parts of it cannot be seen at all: dark matter, some 23 percent of the universe and dark energy, the remaining 63 percent. And some of the things that we could see if we were close enough are forever out of our reach as they lay beyond the observable parts of the universe, expanding away from us too quickly to be reached by our light.

If you are more interested in cosmology than the history of our understanding of it The 4% Universe is the wrong book for you, as its understanding of it is outdated and its view of it rather high level; reading Wikipedia might be more useful. For me however it did a good job of showing that history and it was the first book to made me realise that doubts about that simple Big Bang model and questions about the mass of visible Galaxies were much older than I knew. It was also the first book for me that clearly spelled out that the cosmic inflation of the early universe happened at faster than light speeds. Obvious, you would think but I never quite got that the universe itself can expand faster than the speed of light and that its limit as the fastest speed possible only applies to objects within it.

My favourite books of 2014

As always I will do a post looking at the statistics of my reading habits this year in early January, over at Wis[s]e Words, but for now I’d like to lift out the books that stood out the most for me in 2014, in no particular order.

Cover of The Martian

The Martian was one of the books with a lot of buzz behind it this year. Originally self published in 2011, it was picked up by a mainstream publisher (Random House) and rereleased with some alterations. It’s, with one exeception, the most heartland science fiction novel I’ve read this year, set smack in the heart of the genre. There have been other novels about astronauts losts on Mars before, other Robisonades. but the ones I’ve read tended to be dull and badly written. The Martian is the first one that had the same excitement as Robinson Crusoe offered in finding clever solutions to how to survive a hostile climate, but without devolving into wish fullfilment like the latter part of Crusoe did. Weir also doesn’t fall into the trap of making his stranded astronaut a Heinleinesque superman able to save himself entirely true his own efforts; instead it does take the full resources of NASA to save him.

Cover of Ter Ziele

In August I went to my first Worldcon, in London, which left me buzzing with excitement and a renewed interest in science fiction and fantasy fandom. It also spurred me on to get back into reading Dutch language fantastika, so I started off following various Dutch SFF people on Twitter, as you do. It was thanks to this that I got to know about Esther Scherpenisse’s Ter Ziele, a chapbook collection of two short novellas. The first story in particular hit me, dealing as it does with death, grief and letting go. It’s no surprise it won the main Dutch prize for science fiction/fantasy, the Paul Harlandprijs. I hope Esther Scherpenisse will write and publish more before long.

Cover of Ancillary Sword

Ann leckie’s Ancillary Justice was one of the best if not the best science fiction novels I’d read last year, so my expectations for the sequel, Ancillary Sword were high. Leckie didn’t disappoint me. Paradoxically it both took place on a smaller stage than the previous novel and concerned itself with bigger matters. Most of Ancillary Justice revolved around Breq’s struggle to come to grips with her own identity and her quest for vengeance, her inner turmoil, but Ancillary Sword has those struggles if not entirely resolved, so much so that she’s in full control here. And whereas the focus of the original novel, thanks to its novel use of pronouns, was mainly on gender, here it is on the impact of colonialism, something science fiction as a genre direly needs to come to grips with. Too often after all it views things from the perspective of empire, rather than its victims; Leckie firmly reverses this.

Cover of Otherbound

Corinne Duyvis is another Dutch SFF writer, but one who writes in English. Otherbound is her début novel, a young adult fantasy. What sets it apart from the hundreds of other young adult fantasies are several things. First, there’s the ingenious concept of the protagonist, Nolan, being forced to live somebody else’s life, see through a stranger’s eyes, every time he closes his. Second, Duyvis makes this into a disability more than a superpower. If every time you blink you see through somebody else’s eyes, it’s bound to distract you from the real world. And that has consequences. It’s not the only way Otherbound deals with disability; all three main characters are bound together by their disabilities, their lives interwoven because of it. Third, she has also seriously thought about the consent issues of being able to share someone’s life so intimately. And she manages to do all this and write a gripping adventure story too.

Cover of The Mirror Empire

I read Hurley’s first novel, Gods War, last year and that had been a good if flawed novel. The Mirror Empire is a cut above it. Hurley’s first venture into fantasy, it’s one of the novels, with Otherbound and Ancillary Sword that immediately made it on my Hugo shortlist for next year. In some ways it is a traditional epic fantasy, complete with a Big Bad that needs to be defeated, but what makes it special is its worldbuilding. The world of The Mirror Empire is one of the more fully realised, interesting and novel I’ve read in a long time and she manages it without “the great clomping foot of nerdism” stomping down on the story. Hurley supported The Mirror Empire with a promotional blog tour which is also worth reading to learn more about the background to which it was written and which explains some of her choices.

Cover of The Steerswoman
The Steerswoman series I knew about from other fans raving about it since the mid-nineties at the very least, but I never encountered the books in the wild, until James Nicoll linked to Rosemary Kirstein’s post offering the ebooks for sale. So inbetween walking from one panel to another at Loncon3, I bought the entire series. I was glad I did. What at a first glance looks like fantasy and starts out feeling like a standard if well written fantasy quest story, morphs gradually into the hardest science fiction series I’ve ever written. Because what you have here is a woman finding out the truth about the world she lives in through deduction and induction, through doing thought experiments and practical confirmation of them, without ever cheating, without being fed clues by better informed characters, without using magical technology or jumping to conclusions she shouldn’t be able to make. It’s a brilliant series too little known because for various reasons it took Kirstein over three decades to write the first four books of it and it’s still not finished. But don’t let that stop you: each book stands on its own and each is better than the last.

Cover of Dhalgren

Question: what are the two places man will never reach? Answer: the heart of the sun and page 100 of Dhalgren. An old joke, but one that indicates Dhalgren‘s reputation as a difficult book. Which didn’t stop it from being one of science fiction’s first runaway bestsellers. Personally I didn’t find it that difficult to read, just long, because I just let myself flow along Delany’s narrative. If you go looking for a proper, standard sf, story, you won’t find it here. But it is about cities and independence and queerness and the gloriousness of our bodies, ourselves and all sorts of weird seventies shit. This is one of those books that are hard to review or recap, require some investment of time and effort to get the most out of it, but do reward you if you do so. Delany is such a good writer that I wouldn’t mind reading his interpretation of the Manhattan phonebook, as long as he keeps off the booger sex.

Cover of Lagoon

I also read Nnedi Okorafor’s Who Fears Death this year, but Lagoon was the better book, another Hugo candidate for me. Written out of frustration with the South African sf movie District 9, this is her version of an alien invasion, set in Lagos, Nigeria. That setting already sets it apart from the ordinary run of invasion stories, usually set in the States or sometimes Europe. But there’s also Okorafor’s unapologetic use of Nigerian English rather than “standard” English. For somebody like me not used to it, this made it slightly more difficult to read at times, but no more so than when some fantasy writer has put made up Elfish words in his fantasy. Then there’s the genre breaking Okorafor cheerfully commits here as well, as one chapter frex is told from the perspective of a spider trying to cross a tarmac road, a self aware and evil tarmac road looking for new victims to devour…

Cover of Zero Sum Game

Zero Sum Game is S L Huang’s début novel, a fast paced technothriller, which I only discovered because of her post about last year’s SFWA controversies. That got me reading her blog, curious for her novel, so I bought it when it came out. What I most liked about the book was its heroine, Cas Russell, a math savant who can e.g. calculate the paths of a stream of bullets shot out by a semi-automatic in realtime quickly enough to dodge them all. If you think too much about this power it gets ridiculous, but Huang moves the action quickly enough to not give you the chance to do so. Cas is also, as becomes clear quickly, somewhat of a damaged individual, somebody with no sense of morality but not a sociopath, who has to rely on other people’s sense of what’s right and wrong, which doesn’t always end up well. Currently I’m reading the sequel, Half Life, coming out soon. Expect a review in early January.

Cover of Ascension

Jacqueline Koyanagi’s Ascension was a book I completely discovered by accident, on the sales rack of my favourite Amsterdam bookstore. What pulled me to it was the woman on the cover, as black women don’t often feature on sf covers, not even when they are the protagonist. And it turned out this was the protagonist, a lesbian, disabled woman of colour working as a starship engineer in a dead end job in the middle of a depression caused by a new technology that makes starships almost obsolete. This is a book about sibling rivalry, love, both romantically and otherwise and the difficulties of living true to your own life when you’re poor and almost powerless. It’s also about making choices and having the courage to stand behind them. It’s a brilliant novel, one that should’ve been a contender for the Hugo and Nebula Awards together with Ancillary Justice, but which sadly didn’t get the buzz that book got.

Cover of The Blue Place

Finally, I need to mention two of the books I found the hardest to read this year, Nicola Griffith’s The Blue Place and Stay, the first two novels in a crime thriller trilogy. What made it hard for me was that these books revolved around a death, a death I saw coming throughout The Blue Place and hoping Griffith would find a way to avoid it, while Stay deals with the fallout with that murder. The grief and sorrow in the latter were so real that I had to set it aside the first time I read it, in August, because it reminded me too much of my own loss, the death of my wife three years ago. But if it was hgard for me to read, it was harder for Nicola Griffith to write, twelve years after her little sister died, with her older sister dying through it. It’s no wonder it caught grief and sorrow so well.

Other books I could mention here as well: Sarah Tolmie’s The Stone Boatmen, for me another Hugo candidate. Jo Walton’s What Makes This Book so Great, an enthusiastic anthology of book reviews. Fly by Wire, William Langewiesche’s great explenation of just why captain Sullenberger could put down his Airbus 320 down safely on the Hudson after being hit by a goose. A Stranger in Olondria by Sofia Samatar and Three Parts Dead by Max Gladstone, both read for the John Campbell Award, both very good in their own way fantasy stories. Tobias Buckell’s Hurricane Fever a great near future technothriller romp. Seanan McGuire’s Velveteen vs the Junior Super Patriots/The Multiverse: maniac superhero fanfic that hits all the feels. Aliette de Bodard’s On a Red Station Drifting: family orientated flawed but interesting space opera. N. K. Jemisin’s Dreamblood duology: Egyptian inspired, but not derivative fantasy. Richard Penn’s The Dark Colony: a near future, non cheating hard science fiction police procedural set in the Solar System. Oh, and of course there’s all the Norton I read this year, none of which disappointed.

Fly by Wire — William Langewiesche

Cover of Fly by Wire


Fly by Wire
William Langewiesche
193 pages
published in 2009

I bought Fly by Wire because Alex raved about it a while back. It’s subtitle, “The Geese, The Glide, The ‘Miracle’ on the Hudson” might clue you in that it’s about that US Airways flight that had to crashland in the Hudson back in 2009, after having been hit by geese. Langewiesche is a reporter who has written several books about aviation and here he explains not just what happened that day, but also what made it possible for the pilot, Captain Sullenberger, to land it the way he did and how this fits in with a more general philosophical debate on airplane controls.

An interesting subject, but to be honest I was a bit disappointed with the book as I was expecting something more in-depth after Alex’s review. What it instead reminded me off was one of those interminable New Yorker articles which take a single incident to illuminate a larger social trend. Langewiesche tracks the accident as it evolves, then cuts away to explain one aspect, goes back to the accident, cuts away, ultimately ending when Sullenberger has set down the plane and the rescue boats have brought everybody to the shore. On the whole it was decently done and not nearly as annoying to read than if it had been spread out over ten pages in an online article, but it could’ve done with a bit more depth. Also footnotes.

The main point Fly by Wire attempts to make is that the heroics of captain Sullenberger were only possible because of the airplane he was flying, the Airbus A320. This was the first commercial airliner to introduce fly by wire controls, complete with automatic flight envelope protection. This meant that it was no longer possible for pilots to overrule the flight computers, but that in dangerous situations these would automatically prevent against e.g. stalling the airplane. Pilots of course have always resisted this development, arguing that in certain circumstances these sort of automatic checks could lead to the loss of an aircraft. However, as Langewiesche reports, Airbus counters this by noting that of all accidents with their planes using fly by wire, none have been caused by these controls or the automatic protections.

In fact, Fly by Wire tries to show that it actually was the automatic safeguards that enabled captain Sullenberger to fly on the edge of the aircraft’s flight envelope, making possible the long glide that ended in the Hudson. Because the pilot could put his plane right on the edge and trust the computer to keep it there and not cross it into the danger zone and he had the experience with the type of plane to know this, he didn’t need to waste time and effort trying to find this edge.

That’s something that a lot of pilots had and have problems accepting, and that other large civil airplane manufacturer, Boeing, always refused to accept this. In their planes fly by wire auto protection protocols can always be overridden by the pilot. Which, as Langewiesche shows, has contributed to several accidents as pilots tried to do in Boeings what the computer could’ve done more easily and quicker in an Airbus.

For pilots of course those sort of protections are just another way in which their authority and prestige are lessened, in the wake of the deregulation of the American airline industry. Being a pilot is not longer glamorous nor especially well paid, while work pressure has increased immensely yet they have increasingly less flying to do in the cockpit. It’s no wonder that there was so much resistance from American pilots specifically against fly by wire controls. Langewiesche manages to explain this tension without denigrating the pilots for this resistance.

The conlusion Langewiesche comes to is perhaps inevitable that both pilot and plane were needed for that miraculous landing in the Hudson and that both could take the credit for it. As he also shows in the first chapter, dealing with the inquest to the accident, it was the pilot however who was best in grasping this opportunity, parlaying a temporary fame into financial stability for himself and his family. Which is perhaps not noble, but is sensible.

At the Edge of the Solar System — Doressoundiram & Lellouch

Cover of At the Edge of the Solar System


At the Edge of the Solar System
Alain Doressoundiram & Emmanuel Lellouch
205 pages including index
published in 2008

In 2006 the International Astronomical Union demoted Pluto, long the ninth and last planet in our Solar System from being a planet into a socalled dwarf planet, a new category not just meant for Pluto, but also a half dozen other planets that had been recently discovered at the edge of the Solar System. With the number of planets rapidly rising and estimates raging from a 200 to 2,000 more to be discovered as well as the general feeling that Pluto, only one fifth the mass of the Moon just did not fit in with the rest of the classical planets, this new categorisation was needed, halfway between true planets and asteroids or comets, now classified as small Solar System bodies.

Surprisingly for such a dry subject, the reclassification of Pluto led to a huge amount of media coverage and some controversy; many people, including myself, saw the argument as somewhat specious or had a sentimental attachment to the idea of the classical nine planets. They now were confronted with the reality of the Solar System being massively more complex than they had suspected, with our knowledge of the very edges of it having expanded massively since even the late seventies. Which is where At the Edge of the Solar System: Icy New Worlds Unveiled comes in: an introductionary text book about these discoveries and how they were made.

Though a relatively short book, the main text only being 178 pages long, it packs in a lot of material. It’s a good overview not just of what we know is in the trans-neptunian Solar System but also how we got to know this. Much of what oressoundiram and Lellouch talk about I knew at least a bit of already, but the way they have put it all together made me understand it better. It’s laid out as a text book, with frequent explanation boxes to go deeper into scientific concepts or astronomical techniques mentioned in the main text, without breaking up its flow.

The book starts with a very short history of how our ideas evolved from antiquity to the year that Pluto was discovered, 1930, focusing on how measured inaccurancies in the predicted orbit of each successive outer planet led to the discovery of Neptune, Uranus and ultimately Pluto. In the second chapter the focus lies on Pluto itself and what eighty years of observation taught us about it: not very much, due to the huge distance it’s from us. It was only in 1978 that somebody actually noticed that Pluto, which we thought had a mass greater than Mercury, was actually a double system with a moon almost as big as itself, Charon. As we slowly got to know more about both Neptune, especially its moon Triton and Pluto/Charon, the more something seemed off about calling Pluto a planet.

From there it’s a logical step to look back at how the Solar System might’ve started and what that may imply for trans-neptunian space, as well as where comets come from. Then it’s back to the outer rim and the Kuiper Belt, originally a theoretical concept for the origin of comets, a huge second asteroid/cometoid belt of icy worlds which Pluto is in the middle off. As more and more objects, comets, plutinos and other exotic worlds were being discovered, the belt moved more and more from theory into reality, the more so as more proper, Pluto like planets were being discovered in the nineties and early twentyfirst century.

In the fifth chapter the writers go deeper into those newly discovered worlds, what they look like (as far as we know) and what else we can tell about them from Earthbound observation. The sixth chapter meanwhile is all about the Pluto controversy. As the discoveries detailed in the previous chapters undermined Pluto’s uniqueness the need for a reclassification grew and ultimately ended as I described above. There is something to say for this, even if you can’t help but suspect part of the motive for it is to keep the number of proper planets down, as there indeed isn’t any good reason to keep Pluto one, but none of the other worlds, when some are barely smaller, some as big as and some even are maybe larger than Pluto itself.

Finally the book ends with a short chapter on the history of the outer Solar System as far as we know it and what we don’t quite have figured out yet about it, the biggest of which is why the Kuiper belt ends so abruptly. Is that just a question of more observation or could there be a true mechanism in the history of the early Solar System present that could explain this. The very last chapter then takes a quick look at the near future and the projects that are under development to give us a much better view of the outer Solar System and which might help us solve these problems.

I read At the Edge of the Solar System: Icy New Worlds Unveiled in just a few days, mainly while commuting to and from work. Reading any scientific book that way can be a recipe for disaster as you can’t get in the flow of it, but the way Doressoundiram and Lellouch have written it made it a breeze to get through, while still keeping a relatively large information density. If you’re interested in Pluto and the outer Solar System but not that familiar with it, this is a good introduction.

Kraken — Wendy Williams

Cover of Kraken


Kraken
Wendy Williams
223 pages including index
published in 2011

This was a bittersweet pleasure to read. As an homage to Sandra I wanted to read some of her favourite books and writers this year and Weny Williams’ Kraken was one of the last books she was really enthusiastic about. I had gotten it for her as part of an Amazon order in June of last year, when it still looked she was going to beat her illness and to cheer her up in hospital. Once she had read, she was keen on me to read it too to see what I thought, but I never made the time to do so, having so much else to read. It’s something I regret now, as I would’ve liked to discuss this with her, but at the same time it is nice as well to be able to read a book that reminds me so much of her. Sandra loved squids, octopuses and every kind of cephalopods; they were her favourite animals and any book on them that was any good had her favour.

And Kraken is quite good. At some twohundred pages without the index it’s not an indepth treatment of Cephalopoda, but it is a good look at what makes these creatures so fascinating. The cephalopods are invertebrates, part of the molluscs, with octopussies and squid traditionally seen as evil devil beasts that as soon drown a sailor as look at them. Yet the more we learn about them, the more fascinating they’ve become. It’s quite clear that many of them are incredibly smart, well adapted to their surroundings and with some amazing abilities — most possess chromatophores, coloured pigment cells under conscious muscular control which they can use to camouflage themselves or even “speak” with. They’re curious, they’re playful and in short, they remind us a little bit of ourselves.

One other thing that has turned public opinion in favour of cephalopods has been their use in medical research, especially in neurological research. With some squid species the axon, one of the elementary building blocks of our brains and central nervous system is so big it can be seen with the naked eye, which of course helps a lot in studying it. In turn, studying this axon gave us a lot of insights into our own brains and got Alan Hodgkin and Andrew Huxley, together with John Eccles a Nobel prize in medicine. Cephalopods therefore are not just interesting in their own right, but also as a tool to understand ourselves better.

What Kraken provides is a good introduction to both these subjects, to what makes squids and octopodi and other cephalopods so interesting as well as what makes them so useful in research. Wendy Williams does well in covering both, without giving short shrift to either aspect, packing a lot of information in those twohundred pages. It reads quite quickly too and can be picked up by anybody with some interest in these creatures, no previous knowledge of them required.