Peter Medawar was once asked by a Customs official when he landed in USA "Do you intend to overthrow the Constitution of the United States of America?". To which he replied that he did not intend to do so, and he hoped that he would not do so by accident.

This irreverent tone is apparent in several of the essays in this collection, notably in his review of Teilhard de Chardin's "The Phenomenon of Man" and Koestler's "The Act of Creation". He had a highly skeptical attitude to pretence of all kinds, and was not hesitant to speak out.

Medawar won a Nobel Prize for medicine and he took a broad view on science and its relation to society. Everyone with an interest in science, especially biological science, will find many items of interest in this collection.

This is a superb collection of essays by a Nobel Prizewinner in medicine who was also one of the best popular writers on science in recent times. Pluto's Republic contains the essays in two previous collections, The Art of the Soluble and The Hope of Progress, both currently out of print. It also contains essays on induction and intuition in scientific thought, several pieces not previously collected in book form and some new items. The contents range far and wide, including some vigorous polemics with Arthur Koestler following Medawar's review of The Act of Creation, comments on some recent books on the state of the art in cancer research and an essay on 'type A' behaviour and heart disease.

Medawar has forthright views on the use of technology to improve the world. He also considers that the traditional division of "pure" and "applied" science is unhelpful, probably deriving from the same perverse cast of mind that created the "romantic versus rational" dichotomy between imaginative and critical thinking, allied with the old Anglo-Saxon class distinction between science (for amateur "gentlemen") and technology (for grubby professional "players"). The traditional view, preserved jealously by pure scientists, is that researchers of high caliber should be allowed to follow their interests wherever they will, either in the belief that this is what the universities and the life of the mind are all about, or in the confident expectation that eventually fundamental work will pay off at the practical level. Medawar concedes

"This procedure works; that is, it works sometimes, and it may be the best we can do, but might not the converse approach be equally effective, given equal talent? That is, to start with a concrete problem, but then to allow the research to open out in the direction of greater generality...I can see no reason why this approach if it were to be attempted by persons of the same ability, should not work just as well as its more conventional counterpart. Research done in this style is always in focus, and those who carry it out, if temporarily baffled, can always retreat from the general into the particular."

It is increasingly accepted that science should have some strategic role to play in education but misconceived ideas about science have made it hard to work out what that role might be. A vacuum is waiting to be filled in the theory and practice of education, and Medawar's book should help to fill it. The "piling up the data" theory has to be put in its place (the dust-bin of history) because it promotes over specialisation, as though the person who spends the most time digging the most narrow trench will get further in the field. At the same time outsiders are discouraged from trying to find out what the scientists are up to, for how can they ever find the time to get into the trenches and master the accumulated store of information?

The alternative "hot air balloon" view of science may be more helpful and realistic. Rival theories do not depend on the sheer weight of evidence (most of the evidence can be used to support opposing theories), nor do they gain credibility by longevity alone. They need to compete for survival under critical scrutiny and tests. Five types of test can be applied: the test of evidence, the test of internal consistency, the test of consistency with other well-tested theories, the check on the problem (does the theory actually solve the problem, or just skirt around it) and the check of metaphysics (the least understood at this stage). With this view of knowledge people like Leonard Woolf could claim that he could become an expert in any field with three months of concentrated study (between running the Hogarth Press, writing Fabian tracts and socialising in Bloomsbury). More realistically we might follow the advice of Jacques Barzun in The House of Intellect

With a cautious confidence and sufficient intellectual training, it is possible to master the literature of a subject and gain a proper understanding of it: specifically, an understanding of the accepted truths, the disputed problems, the rival schools and the methods now in favor. This will not enable one to add to what is known, but it will give possession of all that the discipline has to offer the world.

There is much talk of the modern explosion of knowledge. This is mostly an explosion of publications, some of which advance our knowledge but only by a very small amount. Many do not even do as much as that. The existence of high quality science reporting in popular magazines (New Scientist etc) nullifies the despairing belief that the frontiers of science are receding ever further from view. These publications make Barzun's aim (if not Woolf's) entirely feasible for anyone who wants to keep informed of the main lines of scientific advance; to keep track of the balloons which float in the air, tugging at their mooring lines, while on board the balloons the infernal Popperian dialectic of conjecture and refutation rages, day and night.

It's unfortunate that this book is out of print. Medewar won the 1960 Nobel Prize for his research in tissue transplantation, and later wrote extensively on science and scientific method (see his other books, esp. Pluto's Republic).

This book is autobiographical and, as the author suggests, is not so much a life story as a series "of opinions which my life can be regarded as a pretext for holding." Well-written, lucid, with many wonderful descriptions of the humor and fun which came with his life. He looks back on his life with a degree of indulgent joy; as successful as it was, it was the journey, not the destination, which he enjoyed.

If you feel that the education system is not geared for you, yet you hunger for what an education can provide, this book will give you hope. Medewar succeeded despite the education system, rather than because of it.

This book has some strong opinions in it, with which you may not agree. That's fine. Enjoy it for its clarity and enjoyment of life, despite various trials along the way.

Peter Medawar was once asked by a Customs official when he landed in USA "Do you intend to overthrow the Constitution of the United States of America?". To which he replied that he did not intend to do so, and he hoped that he would not do so by accident.

This irreverent tone is apparent in several of the essays in this collection, notably in his review of Teilhard de Chardin's "The Phenomenon of Man" and Koestler's "The Act of Creation". He had a highly skeptical attitude to pretence of all kinds, and was not hesitant to speak out.

Medawar won a Nobel Prize for medicine and he took a broad view on science and its relation to society. Everyone with an interest in science, especially biological science, will find many items of interest in this collection.

This book is a collection of advice on different subjects the author finds important for scientists. Some of the advice is helpful. But still the book suffers from several problems: * Its language is often stilted and old-fashioned * Most subjects are only shortly touched (e.g., writing, the scientific process) and a large part of the advice consists of trivialities everybody involved in science certainly knows already. So if you are really interested in in-depth advice on doing science well, you should probably read other, more specialized books (e.g., Krantz: A Primer of Mathematical Writing). Thus the title of the book is rather misleading: The book is not for scientists (not even for young scientists), but it might be the book of choice for people who have to decide whether to go into science, or for people who just want to have a taste of what scientific life is about.

This book gives information about how a researcher reaches his/her target. Everyone should read it.

Professor Medawar is much aware of following in the footsteps of William Cobbett, (the famous 'Advice to Young Men and (incidentally) to Young Women', written in the early 1800's and still in print), and wishes to avoid being dull and preachy. He is incapable of either, and he here shares his experience of a distinguished career in the biological sciences for the benefit of the aspiring scientist in any research discipline. This book would be useful to anyone entertaining the idea of a science-based career, certainly up to the graduate stage. It is also probably of specific interest to any biologist whether student, teacher, or researcher. This is an original and personal book, by a writer who won a Nobel prize in 1960 for his research in the area of human tissue transplants. He is here both literate and highly practical; the wisdom of a lifetime, normally only acquired slowly by personal life experience, is distilled and decanted with dry humour.

The chapters cover: 'How can I tell if I am cut out to be a scientific research worker?', which contains a revealing and exceedingly quick intelligence test, (and which would probably be of great value as a surprise question in executive job interviews). A psychologist would classify this as a very direct test of 'little g', or the general intelligence factor, and it is refreshingly free of bias due to gender, culture, and educational attainment level.

The chapter 'What shall I do research on?' contains the observations of a typical biologist, very down to earth. Likewise, 'How can I equip myself to be a scientist?', which contains guidance on balancing reading research with hands on activity.

'Aspects of scientific life and manners' is the best chapter: an excellent set of observations on teamwork, respect for colleagues, the scientist's moral requirement of dedication to Truth, how to handle mistakes, giving fair credit for discoveries, and how to keep your friends (by handling the critical scientific habit of mind correctly! Take notes...). The snobismus (a most excellent neologism) divide between pure and applied science, and between technicians and researchers is also noted and handled well.

The professor interestingly distinguishes between four types of experiment. The Baconian or messing around type; the Aristotelian or proving a point type; the Galilean or critical type (the normal type as most think of science today); and the Kantian or thought experiment, much beloved of the other Greeks.

'The Scientific Process' analyses and challenges Kuhn's theory of scientific paradigms and paradigm shifts. And the chapter 'Scientific Meliorism versus Scientific Messianism' concerns the psychology and worldview of scientists, and throws some enjoyable light on his debates with C. S. Lewis, whom he knew well. This latter debate proves (although he would deny it), that although he approaches C. P. Snow's ideal of the man who can bridge the two cultures - of those schooled in the humanities, and those in the sciences - he fails. The disparity in the cultural worldviews is too great. The book is usefully rounded off with an index.

The professor is keenly aware throughout that, as he simply observes, 'scientists are people': practical but fallible, given to snobbery but capable of egregious open-mindedness, technocratic but social optimists at heart. All in all, Medawar is the best of teachers, teaching with his heart and his head: he dispels stereotypes, he advises on handling your emotions, he inspires. This type of book is all too rare.

Michael JR Jose, amarula4@yahoo.co.uk