National
Geographic is simply the admirable gold
standard for a certain type of coffee-table volume about the natural and manmade
worlds and their many intriguing points of intersection. Solid, substantial, humanistic and civilized,
albeit seldom pioneering. Vividly if
sometimes a bit conservatively illustrated, with gorgeous photos and savvy
graphics. Informative text in a
transparent style, lending itself to easy ingestion by bright youths or curious
adults seeking to enlarge their horizons.
Reading a NatGeo book always
makes one feel virtuous, humble and, in most cases, proud to be a
human.
Sizing Up the
Universe is no exception to the
Geographic honor roll. If you don't emerge from this book having
gratefully learned something amazing about our astonishing cosmos, you are
certifiably blind or brain-dead. Its
authors—Gott is an astrophysicist, while Vanderbei has worked for NASA and
provides many of the photos herein—have plainly thought long and hard about how
to best educate the layperson in the scale of the universe, the relative sizes
and distances amongst the various planets, stars and galaxies that we can
see—and can't see—in the night sky. The
easy-to-follow ascending progression of concepts they array before us is
reminiscent of the famous Ray and Charles Eames film, Powers of
Ten, which steps the viewer through
larger and larger frames of cosmic creation.
Starting with a discussion of
how to scientifically compare and measure celestial objects as seen from an
Earthling's perspective, the authors next review how our understanding of the
universe's structure has developed since the days of the Classical Greeks. Then, taking advantage of the many
eye-popping images provided by the Hubble Telescope and other instruments
(reproduced here in brilliant tones), they illustrate the immensity of the
spacetime continuum in an easy-to-comprehend stepwise fashion. (Sometimes, I fear, a tad too
rudimentarily: I'm not sure even the
average ten-year-old reader needs this sidebar info: "The suns we see at night are actually other
stars—they appear faint only because they are so far
away.")
The literal centerpiece of
the volume is a giant gatefold schematic of cosmic distances, modeled on—of all
things—the famous New Yorker cover
of a Manhattanite's perspective of the planet.
If it would not be disrespectful to such a charming, sincere and
informative book, I would suggest detaching the chart and hanging it where it
could be viewed daily, especially when one's problems begin to look overly
large.

Paul Di Filippo's column The Speculator
appears monthly in the Barnes & Noble Review. He is the
author of several acclaimed novels and story collections, including
Fractal Paisleys, Little Doors, Neutrino Drag, and Fuzzy Dice.
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