I've only known Leacock from his novels (I particularly recommend "Sunshine Sketches" and "Arcadian Adventures", unless you find humour from the 1920s a bit laboured). He was, however, an economist at McGill University in Montreal and so, as an economist myself, I looked forward to reading this book when I came across a used copy.

(Note: I haven't read the University of Toronto's reprint, sold by Amazon, which includes other essays besides the title piece.)

There's one reason not to read this book, and two reasons why you should.

Turning first to the negatives, unless you have a taste for the period in which the book was written, you may be either bored, angered or perplexed with Leacock's concern that socialism not succeed as, apparently, it once threatened to do. Then again, he criticises those who think that social programmes will only help the poor to breed and so condemn us to subsistence at best. Leacock opposes such neo-Malthusian views with a cornucopian stance I associate more often with the work of Julian Simon. I have little sympathy here either with Leacock or with the view he attacks.

Much more worthwhile, however, (indeed, it is critically important) is his criticism of what we might today call mainstream economic models. Yet, in spite of the book's title, the basis of Leacock's position is not an assertion that economic models are in some way oppressive. That's as may be, but his approach is grounded more in logic than in social justice. For example, if prices are based on costs, yet if wages are derived from marginal revenue product (for the non-economist he does explain these terms) then, Leacock suggests, the whole argument is circular.

If you are a heterodox economist this much may strike you as nothing new. What makes Leacock worth reading is the second reason I mentioned above: the pleasure of his style. True, from time to time there are technical terms to deal with, but on the other hand there are passages such as this: "It requires no little hardihood to say that this proposition [a central tenet of economic theory] is a fallacy. It lays one open at once, most illogically, to the charge of being a socialist. In sober truth it might as well lay one open to the charge of being an ornithologist."

To sum up, the heterodox economist today can skip those pages (at times, whole chapters) which relate to controversies of long ago, and enjoy finding his or her views confirmed in a book from the 1920s--and confirmed, moreover, in a generally approachable way. Non-economists might also enjoy this book, but perhaps everyone should begin their reading of Leacock with "Sunshine Sketches of a Little Town" or "Arcadian Adventures of the Idle Rich". Curiously enough, there is more of Leacock's somewhat tory concern with social justice in those novels (subtly in the first, rather more blatantly in the second) than there is in the book I'm reviewing here.

Alan Furst writes about a narrow by eventful time from 1933 to 1945. His books are meticulously accurate to the point they would pass inspection by many readers of history. The author takes an unusual step at the end of his books by sharing with readers his sources for the novels he creates. This is not done in an academic bibliography or a blizzard of footnotes, rather he writes conversationally about what he reads, and what he suggests as reading for those who are interested.

In this first book Jean Casson will take part as a photographer during the short-lived French defense. He eventually finds himself taking on a task he believes will help France through his aiding the British. This is not a character that has a desire to be heroic; he seems to just want to find his place. Questions of what is honorable, and what constitutes loyalty constantly shadow him. In many ways he is the personification of the nation he lives in. He is conflicted to the point of pondering whether a barber who continues to cut hair during the war, including that of the German occupiers is a collaborator. At this level the question may appear simpler than the so-called larger issues, but the philosophical issue is the same.

Jean is given the opportunity to escape to England and continue to work in some manner for France. As he makes his way to The English Channel he continues to torture himself with issues both political and personal. His final act and the justification for it will surprise many, and seem appropriate to others. Whatever you may feel at the close of the book, you will feel your time has been well spent.

Hawking and Thorne, grasp it: Time-travel is physically IMPOSSIBLE.

The five essays in The Future of Spacetime were first presented as talks for a celebration of the 60th birthday of Kip Thorne, a leading theoretical physicist. Three of them, plus a brief introduction by physicist Richard Price, deal with relativity, and especially with the possibility and implications of "closed timelike curves" in spacetime--time travel for short. In addition, Tim Ferris writes insightfully about why it is so important for scientists and science writers to do a better job of informing people about scientific theories and discoveries, but even more importantly clueing them in about how science works. He points out that it may take 1,000 years for a concept to penetrate to the core of society. Since modern science is at best 500 years old, there's lots left to be accomplished. Alan Lightman, who is both a physicist and a novelist, beautifully describes the creative process that lies at the heart of both science and creative writing. Scientists and novelists, he argues, are simply seeking different kinds of truths.

The three physics essays are gems. Each sheds at least some light on the nature of spacetime, on the possibility (or impossibility, or improbability) of time machines and time travel, and on intimately related issues such as causality and free will. Novikov, for example, concludes that the future can influence the past, but not in such a way as to erase or change an event that has already happened. Hawking argues that time travel is happening all the time at the quantum level, but that nature would protect against an attempt to use a time machine to send a macroscopic object, such as a human being, back in time. I was particularly impressed by Kip Thorne's essay, in which he makes a series of predictions concerning what physicists and cosmologists will discover in the next thirty years. He explains the importance of the gravity-wave detectors that are now starting to come on line. They promise to let us read the gravitational signals of such primordal events as the collision of black holes and even the big bang itself. It is as fascinating to get to piggyback on how these great minds think as it is to read their conclusions.

In short, The Future of Spacetime is a bit of a salad, but an extremely delicious and satisfying one.

Robert E. Adler, author of Science Firsts: From the Creation of Science to the Science of Creation (Wiley & Sons, 2002).

There are red herrings galore, a false arrest, 2 escapes, supernatural overtones, and then an unexpected, unprepared for, and totally implausible ending. That the guilty one would have and could have perpetrated the crime in the manner indicated is just beyond belief. The author even has to make her turn out to be insane to create a strong enough motive--no, not nearly strong enough actually.

If you want to read excellent Josephine Tey, try BRAT FARRAR or THE FRANCHISE AFFAIR. This one just isn't up to her later standards.

In this book Inspector Grant is looking into the drowning death of a famous film star. There are no shortage of suspects, and there is so much extraneous information that he gets quite frustrated trying to unravel it. But he peseveres and discovers the murderer in the end.

Male, female, or both, our hero(ine) Fullin is remarkably uninteresting. He/she is whiny, prissy, naive, and a total clod and his girl/boyfriend Cappie is little better. The "Spark Lord" Rashid is a cartoonish charicature, and none of the other characters are interesting enough to make the reader cheer for anyone.

The entire story is spent taking the reader through the tangled web of nature spirits and the tyrannical "Patriarch" that make up the very small world of Tobler Cove. Eventually we find out that Tobler Cove is really just a high-tech sociology experiment to bridge the gender gap.

Unlike Gardner's other books, Commitment Hour is a dull read, and unless you're virtually bed-ridden like myself, it won't keep you hooked. Commitment Hour has an interesting premise but a weak story. Read Gardner's other books, but skip this one.

It was nice to see that even in their male personas, the people of Tober Cove were very caring and loving toward their children, effectively dispelling the myth that only women can be nurturing.

The book also touches on belief systems and how strongly people will hold onto their ideas even when faced with contradictory evidence, but the main character also seems to realize that faith really has a life of its own, a purpose, independent of "proof" either for or against.

While the book would've benefited from fewer characters (I had to go back and find where one was introduced to find out what her importance was), it was still enjoyable and had me reading well past midnight.

First and fundamentally, White writes with great suspense and lots of unexpected twists and turns. In this book, a ski death, a spousal abuse murder,the crash of the United flight in Sioux City, a gas explosion and a gourmet restaurant all find their way into the tangled web.

Still,when I recommend White to friends (which I do often), the recommendation always includes the wonderful dry humor of the books.About 3/4's of the humor is universal and a healthy forth is directed at Colorado things - weather, the People's Republic of Boulder and skiers. Funny enough for outsiders and really big grins for locals.

One word of caution to new readers of the Alan Gregory series. Unlike many male slueths, Alan doesn't have a new babe in each book. If you want to follow his romantic relationship, as well as the progress of friends and neighbors, this is a series worth reading in sequence. It starts with Priviledged Information. This book, Private Practices, is the second in the series...

Will I read more in this series? Probably. And I will definitely recommend it to anyone needing a good beach book.