Try as I might, I can't help feeling I've been led astray. I went to my first meeting of our Non-fiction Reading Group on the last Wednesday of July and afterwards I decided to follow up with a second visit on the last Wednesday of this month (August 2011). My decision was reached partly because the book under consideration was by Richard Feynman and partly because a number of us went to the pub afterwards, which is a good thing. A couple of days later I went out to buy a copy of the Feynman and it's here I began to feel mislead. The assistant fetched a copy of the book. I stared at it in disbelief. I'd expected something to whet the scientific side of my mind. The cover was straight out of a horror comic combined with elements of Hitchcock's Birds as forward publicity for one of those downgrading late night reality television shows. I found it hard to believe this was a publication of the Penguin series, a series which has produced so many noteworthy titles. This really did look like a cheap paperback. Something to drop in the trash can as soon as it'd served its immediate purpose. The bookshop's online catalogue advertised a price of £7-99. The man behind the counter stuck at £9-99, explaining that the cheaper price was part of a '3 for 2' deal. I felt cheated. There was no way I could buy that book in that shop for £7-99. I politely made my distaste known and indicated I'd be likely to shop elsewhere another time. Amazon offers a far better deal. I've been uneasy with the book ever since I finished reading the editor's introduction. After a great deal of mulling, I come to the conclusion that it's not a book by Richard P. Feynman at all. It's a collection of transcripts of a dozen or so of his talks, a selection made and edited by Jeffrey Robbins, whose name does not appear on the front cover, and who appears to have been content to leave the transcripts close to the form in which the words were spoken. The real problem with this, is that the words in front of us are a constant reminder of the immense difference between speaking and writing. When I project myself into the room with Feynman's audience I appreciate how much the speaker's personality, his pauses, his inflections, his changes of pitch and pace, his gestures, his body language, all contribute to the effect his words have on his listeners. But none of this is reproduced - if, indeed, it is reproduceable - when the words alone are present on the page. It's a common problem, a situation so familiar it's all too easy to overlook it. I found myself unable to finish most of the chapters, however hard I tried to stick at it. I'm left with the impression that Feynman spoke very much on the spur of the moment and not from a prepared text nor even a set of headings set out on slips of paper. One thought leads to another without necessarily delving deep. Walking with Feynman is to enjoy the passage along the road with no compulsion to reach out for a destination. The man himself is more than sufficient to provoke the wish to repeat the experience. For myself - at the end of the exercise I remain very disappointed save for one or two points of illumination. Somewhere He remarks on particles moving backwards in time. A thought which provokes some very interesting possibilities. Elsewhere he spoke of the importance of doubt as part of the scientific method. For these gems, if for nothing else, I am glad to have made this passing acquaintance with some of his words of encouragement. francis cameron, oxford, 26 august 2011
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