Category Archives: books

Book Review: Endless Forms

Seirian Sumner
Endless Forms: The Secret World of Wasps

Collins; 2022

This is a book about wasps. It isn’t a book of wasps; not a field guide; nor an academic description of the minutiae of wasps. But it is about wasps.

Prof. Seirian Sumner (full disclosure: I have met her) has devoted her academic life to studying wasps, and specifically (but not only) social wasps like our friendly picnic-bothering yellowjacket. So this could have been an academic tome, but it isn’t. Instead it is a very accessible 380 pages of description which takes us through the world of wasps: what they are, how and why they work – and indeed why some seem unreasonably interested in our picnics. All of that is held together with stories and anecdotes about often hair-raising research field trips; some successful, others a total disaster.

With around 100,000 known species in the world, wasps are important: as predators and parasites of other insects, and as pollinators. No, don’t panic as the vast majority of those 100,000 species are solitary wasps; many are tiny (2mm or less) and most don’t sting. There are only 74 known species of hornets and yellowjackets worldwide, and it is these yellowjackets which bother our picnics. This is something which Seirian stresses and explains: they may be after a share of your chicken or burger; or late in the summer a share of your strawberry jam. Give them a share, on the side, at the other end of the table and they’ll generally leave you alone. Oh and DO NOT go flapping around: that’s the surest way to annoy them and get stung as you’ll remind them of their arch-predator, the badger.

Most of the social wasps are hunters, after juicy morsels of meat (usually arthropods, but also carrion) to feed their brood. The solitary wasps hunt too: some are predators of a meat feast for their young; others lay eggs on the still living meat to parasitise them. Yes, Nature is gruesome, but without wasp pest controllers we’d be knee deep in creepie-crawlies. Seirian estimates that even in a bad year a social yellowjacket nest can get through almost 300,000 arthropods; it can be 8-10 times that in a bumper year. That’s a lot of caterpillars!

And to cap it all? Without the ancestral wasps, we would have neither ants nor bees for both groups are descendants of ancient wasps. Ants are wasps which (mostly) lost their wings. Bees are wasps which forgot how to hunt. Social wasps are unusual in that they too have learnt to live in colonies.

Seirian takes us through all of this. How did wasps develop such a multitude of forms. Their lifestyles and how the societies of social wasps work. Why they’re important. How scientists have managed to work all this out.

This is a fascinating book, well written, eminently readable, and almost chatty. I found it hard to put down and had to restrict myself to a couple of chapters a night in order to not burn too much (expensive) midnight oil. I guarantee you’ll come away with a totally different view of wasps.

Overall Rating: ★★★★★

Book Review: What’s in a London Pub Name

James Potts & Sam Cullen
What’s in a London Pub Name

Capital History; 2022

Greater London has thousands of pubs – so many that probably no-one had counted them; and in any event the list would change daily. In 136 pages the authors of this slim volume describe the origins of over 650 of the more unusual or interesting pub names in Greater London – all the way from “Aces & Eights” (Tufnell Park) to the “Zetland Arms” (South Kensington). As one can imagine, at an average of about 5 pubs and a photograph per page, the descriptions are not very detailed. This is a shame, as there is undoubtedly more to be told about most of these names, and many others.

The sheer variety of names is astonishing, from the ubiquitous “Red Lion” to the eccentric “Queen’s Head and Artichoke”. Even so, as the authors admit, the list is far from comprehensive. They’ve set out to document those names with an interesting story and consequently have omitted many of the more obvious, like the “Queen Victoria”.

Sadly though I came away with one (or maybe it is actually two) criticisms. There are too many new names: for example the ubiquitous Wetherspoons “Moon” names (historic, not!) creep in, although thankfully the “Frog and …” names don’t get a mention. Against, or maybe because of, this the authors’ stated omission of many more common or obvious names does mean there is too little on the historic origins of pub names, which are often rooted in heraldry or other medieval/early modern symbolism or celebrity: are all the “Queen Victoria” pubs really named for our 19th-century monarch? Something more comprehensive would, for me at least, have been more satisfying.

Nevertheless, this is an interesting and well produced little paperback, but I have my doubts as to how long the spine will last with even moderate use. It is eminently suited to being dipped into – although you’ll find (as I did) you can read it from cover to cover! At £9.99 from Amazon (other suppliers available), it would make a great stocking filler for the London, or pub, aficionado.

Overall Rating: ★★★★☆

Book Review: The Little Book of Humanism

Andrew Copson & Alice Roberts
The Little Book of Humanism: Universal Lessons on Finding Purpose, Meaning and Joy

Piatkus; 2020

It’s a long time since I’ve written a book review here. That doesn’t mean I’m not reading, but it does mean I’ve not managed to finish enough books to make a review worthwhile: like always there are many books on the go, and most are cast aside at the arrival of something new.

I would never claim to be a humanist. I probably am one, but I don’t profess to know enough about humanism to feel that’s what I am. Besides I try to avoid anything which wants me to believe in some creed, however loose it may be.

So I was motivated to read the recently published The Little Book of Humanism.

Let me say straight away that this book does what it says on the tin: it is a very basic guide to many of the ideas and beliefs behind humanism. Sadly though I found it tediously wanting. It came across to me as a series of would-be-inspirational quotes strung together with some pieces of text made up of platitudes and the obvious. I don’t know Andrew Copson, but I expect more of Alice Roberts – this may not be an academic work, but Roberts can do better than this.

I expected the book to make me stop and think; to present me with deep ideas about humanism. It didn’t. All I seemed to get was a feeling I was being told things which are patently obvious. I expected something with more “bite”, and something rather more formally construed.

As so often though, that is probably very unfair of me as the book likely isn’t intended for someone like me who has spent many years thinking about what they really do believe and their personal morality. It is, I suspect, much more aimed at those who’ve maybe heard of humanism, but don’t know anything about it and who feel disillusioned with mainstream religion. For those people it is probably quite a good route into humanism, without being a dogmatic text full of formal beliefs (which humanism really shouldn’t be anyway).

What also disappointed me was the quality of the production. The copy I have, while hard-bound, looks as if it is glued rather than stitched with the cover also too lightly attached. The content is printed on very rough, off-white paper which resembles thin blotting paper – that’s commendable if the paper is recycled, but the lack of finish to the paper, and the lack of brightness, does make the book a less enjoyable read. The actual text uses a mix of serif and sans serif typefaces, in a variety of point sizes: again something which irritates. I’m also not sure “little” is the right adjective; yes the book is the size of a small paperback but it’s quite thick and chunky; I wouldn’t call it pocketable. This is partly down to the modern fetish for extraneous white space; to quote Ambrose Bierce “the covers of this book are too far apart”. Overall the production looks cheap and as such is possibly not a good advertisement for the humanist movement.

Overall I was disappointed, but maybe unfairly so.

Overall Rating: ★★☆☆☆

Ten Books I Found Influential or Formative: 2

Following on from my series of 10 Books I’ve Loved and Books I’ve Hated or Cannot Read I now bring you the third instalment: 10 Books I Found Influential or Formative.

They are all books I’ve read, at different times, and which have had a profound influence on life, mind or belief. I have excluded anything from the previous two lists. Nor have I included anything directly related to either academic studies or work; not because I think they should be off-limits but because I can’t single out anything particular.

Again, rather than spread this across ten days, I’m posting the list in two posts, each of five books, a few days apart. There is a short commentary on why I found each book so influential. This is the second part.

In each part I’m nominating three people to produce their own list. The first three are: Christine Berberich, Ziggy Lubkowski, John Potter. Of course anyone else is welcome to sing along!


John Burton et al.; The Oxford Book of Insects

I’m not quite sure when I first came across this book, but I know my copy dates from at least the time I was a post-grad; it is still on the shelf over my desk. Although it is not academic it is a good first guide to the insect world, and as such has continued to stimulate my interest not just in insects but the natural world in general.


William Shakespeare; Julius Caesar

The first half of Julius Ceasar is the only bit of Shakespeare I ever really understood. Which is just as well as we did the whole play for O-level, and luckily I got an exam question on the first half. The second half (all the war etc.) remained a mystery to me.


Robert H Rimmer; The Harrad Experiment

My father provided this as reading material in the late 60s; GOK what his motive was! It is fiction but portrays an environment of free love and free sex in (as I recall) a student setting – something understandably attractive to the average teenager in the 60s. And it certainly helped develop my moral compass and relaxed attitudes towards sexuality.


James A Coleman; Relativity for the Layman

I don’t recall at what point I read this, whether as an undergraduate or a post-grad. Clearly I felt the need to have at least a passing knowledge of relativity, something which (with a basic understanding of quantum mechanics) has stood me in good stead for my ongoing interest in the physical sciences.


David Feinstein & Stanley Krippner; Personal Mythology

As one might suspect this is all about personal development, and discovering and understanding your inner story. I claim no success in doing this, but the section on finding and meeting your inner shaman is something I’ve found of recurrent interest.


Later in the year I hope to follow on with further, similarly themed, book posts. Watch this space!

Ten Books I Found Influential or Formative: 1

Following on from my series of 10 Books I’ve Loved and Books I’ve Hated or Cannot Read I now bring you the third instalment: 10 Books I Found Influential or Formative.

They are all books I’ve read, at different times, and which have had a profound influence on life, mind or belief. I have excluded anything from the previous two lists. Nor have I included anything directly related to either academic studies or work; not because I think they should be off-limits but because I can’t single out anything particular.

Again, rather than spread this across ten days, I’m posting the list in two posts, each of five books, a few days apart. There is a short commentary on why I found each book so influential. This is part the first.

In each part I’m nominating three people to produce their own list. The first three are: Katy Wheatley, Noreen Marshall, Julia Say. Of course anyone else is welcome to sing along!


Peter Russell; The Brain Book

This book was the basis for a hugely formative course I went on when first teaching at work. Amongst other things it includes an introduction to Tony Buzan’s Mind Mapping techniques as well as much about how learning is thought to work. The course was also the one which energised me to learn Transcendental Meditation (which I’m trying to rejuvenate).


Havelock Ellis; The Psychology of Sex

When I was growing up, every book in the house was accessible, and this was on the shelves in the living room. So, of course, I read large chunks of this when I was doing A-levels. Needless to say I learnt a lot and it kept me one step ahead of my then girlfriend!


Lewis Carroll; Alice in Wonderland

Although Carroll originally conceived this as a children’s story, it has been incredibly influential for many people. It’s not just amusing, but filled with logical inconsistencies and alternative ways of looking at things. I didn’t know it at the time but I suspect this was one of those books which nurtured my inner scientist.


Anthony Powell; A Question of Upbringing

Anthony Powell was recommended to me by our friend Jilly. And it is true to say that this book changed my life! Powell became one of my heroes. A website developed and evolved, in 2000, into the Anthony Powell Society of which I was Hon. Secretary for 18 years until last October. The Anthony Powell Society has taken me places, and introduced me to people, I would never have dreamed possible.


Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable

I was introduced to this by my father and our local librarian, Jack Edwards, as the fount of much useful, interesting and often esoteric knowledge. A delight in “knowledge trifles” has remained with me ever since.


Part two in a few days time.

10 Books I Hated / Can’t Read: Part 2

Following on from my series of 10 Books I’ve Loved I now bring you 10 Books I Hated or Can’t Read

Some of these I’ve read and didn’t like, some were destroyed for me by school, and some I’ve tried and just couldn’t get to grips with despite wanting to.

Rather than spread this across 10 days, one book per day, I’m posting this in two posts, each of five books, a few days apart. Also (because I want to) I’m going to provide a short commentary on why I found each book so difficult. This is part two.

In each part I’m nominating three people to produce their own list, in any way they like – just leave a comment here with a link to yours. The second three are: Sophie Clissold-Lesser, Nick Birns, Gabriella Walfridson. Of course anyone else is welcome to sing along!


Leo Tolstoy; War and Peace

I tried reading this, from choice, in my teens. I failed. I could not get into it and couldn’t identify with it as nothing seemed to happen in slow motion. Oh and there was too much of it.


Thomas Hardy; The Mayor of Casterbridge

This is another that was destroyed for me by being flogged through it at school. I detested it so much that I remember almost nothing about it.


Haruki Murakami; The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle

I’ve tried to read this two or three times, but I’ve had to give up each time as for some reason I find it depressing, with the prospect that it gets worse as you go on. I’m told it isn’t like that, but that’s what it does to me. I’ve also found this with the other bits of Murakami I’ve tried, so it’s likely something about the way either his subject matter or his style work on me. It’s a shame as there’s something I still find intriguing here.


Charles Dickens; A Christmas Carol

Yet one more destroyed by school, and on every encounter since. I find it (as I find almost all Dickens) dark, disturbing, depressing … and tedious. The only Dickens I’ve ever tried and enjoyed is Pickwick Papers.


James Joyce; Ulysses

My parents had an early copy of Ulysses – it may even have been the original contraband Paris edition – so I read it in my mid-teens. To this day I don’t know why I bothered. WTF is it on about? Whatever it is made no sense at all. Even the Hardy and Dickens I so hate at least make some sense. I have a suspicion that Joyce is just taking the gullible for a ride.


Later in the year I hope to follow on with at least one further, similar, theme: I already have Books I Found Influential / Formative lined up. (Yes, that’s different to Books I’ve Loved.) There may be others.

10 Books I Hated / Can’t Read: Part 1

Following on from my series of 10 Books I’ve Loved I now bring you 10 Books I Hated or Can’t Read

Some of these I’ve read and didn’t like, some were destroyed for me by school, and some I’ve tried and just couldn’t get to grips with despite wanting to.

Rather than spread this across 10 days, one book per day, I’m posting this in two parts, each of five books, a few days apart. Also (because I want to) I’m going to provide a short commentary on why I found each book so difficult. This is part the first.

In each part I’m nominating three people to produce their own list, in any way they like – just leave a comment here with a link to yours. The first three are: June Laurenson, Graham Page, Sue Lubkowska. Of course anyone else is welcome to sing along!


JRR Tolkien; Lord of the Rings

I would like to read this, if only to know what all the fuss is about. But over the years I’ve tried several times and never managed to get past page 50. I just don’t find it captivating.


Mervyn Peake; Titus Alone

Having read the first two books of the trilogy, I embarked on the third but had to give up about a quarter of the way through as I found it just too depressing.


Grace Metalious; Peyton Place

I read this in my early teens because everyone at school was talking about it, and it was supposed to be salacious. Frankly it was an extemely tedious soap opera.


Salman Rushdie; Satanic Verses

I will not be told by anyone what I may/may not read, so when some Ayatollah put an interdict on this I made sure I acquired a copy. In two or three attempts I’ve never got past page five; it’s worse than Finnegan’s Wake and that’s going some.


John Buchan; The Thirty-Nine Steps

Like all the (so-called) classics, this was destroyed for me by having to flog through it at school, at an age when I found engaging with books difficult. It doesn’t help that I read slowly, so I was always way behind with any reading assignment.


Part two in a few days time.

One Small Step

After an almost infinite number of years the British Library has finally opening its “Private Case” – ie. writing it has considered too obscene for general access – and digitised the 2500 books it contains. The digitised images will be made available online.

But don’t all rush. Although the “Private Case” collection has been accessible to the public through the British Library’s rare books collection since the 1960s, the digitisation means the titles will now be available to a wider audience: by subscription to libraries and higher education institutions, or free at the BL’s reading rooms in London and Yorkshire. So you’ll still have to be a bona fide person to get access. Why, I don’t know as much of the contents are already widely available on the open market.

But let’s rejoice! It is a small step forward for freedom and the removal of prudery.

Book Review: A Monk’s Guide to a Clean House and Mind

Shoukei Matsumoto
A Monk’s Guide to a Clean House and Mind

Penguin; 2018

This is a curious little book which does very much what it says in the title. It is about cleaning, as zen monks do it in the monastery, as well as meditation. The life of the zen monk is hard – much harder than we realise; for another perspective see Gesshin Greenwood – and very strictly regulated. It is clear that many things are done the way they have always been done: because it works, is sustainable in a moneyless society, and is as light as possible on the environment.

By having to do everything precisely the right way, all the time, every time, it is possible to not have to think about what you’re doing but concentrate on doing it. So everything from preparing food and polishing floors, to tidying the garden and having a shit, become part of the meditative practice.

When it comes to cleaning a temple, polishing the floor is as basic a chore as it gets. For many monks, a day does not go by that they don’t clean the floors of the temple corridors.

Since the floors are thoroughly polished day in and day out, every inch of them is beautiful, with their surface, blackened through hundreds of years of use, taking on an almost translucent, fossilized look. You can walk through a carefully maintained temple all day long in white socks without worrying about discolouring them. There is no dust or grime to speak of.

It is the job of the monks to perform the upkeep on these beautifully preserved floors. They are polished every day whether they appear to need it or not.

When you are polishing the floor, you are polishing your heart and your mind.

The point of housework is to clean up dirt and grime, isn’t it? So you might be wondering what is the point of cleaning something that is already spotless. But for monks the physical act of polishing the floor is analogous to cleaning the earthly dirt from your soul.

This book is a collection of very short pieces about the various cleaning and maintenance jobs the monks do, and the way in which they are also a method of meditation. Although translated from the Japanese, the sense of strangeness, quirkiness and totally other has been retained; and that made it for me an interesting, even inspiring, read.

My criticism? There were places where I felt I wanted a bit more detail about how things were done and the rhythm of daily life.

Nevertheless, if you are interested in zen, the way zen monks practice, or just curious about other ways of life, then this is a delightful, short read.

Overall Rating: ★★★★☆

Book Non-Review

Kate Bennett (Editor)
John Aubrey: Brief Lives with An Apparatus for the Lives of our English Mathematical Writers

(OUP; paperback, 2vv, £50, 2018; hardback, 1vv, £250, 2015)

I’ve been dipping into the paperback edition of this enormous work over the last few weeks. It is so massive – the two volumes are together almost 2000 pages! – that dip into it is all one realistically can do, hence my reluctance to write proper review.

No, almost 2000 pages is not an exaggeration. Amazon quotes the work as being 1968 pages. So no wonder OUP have split the paperback edition into two volumes.

Volume I is 900+ pages and contains John Aubrey’s Brief Lives, together with “The Apparatus …” and a 125-page extended introduction. The Brief Lives themselves are, for the first time ever, reprinted entire and complete with Aubrey’s marginalia (often heraldic drawings, but also notes). Volume II is over 1000 pages of scholarly notes and commentary on the content of Volume I plus 50 pages of index.

I really can’t do better than to quote a couple of the reviews (also quoted on Amazon) from two other Aubrey scholars:

It is not an exaggeration to claim that until Kate Bennett came along, no one properly understood what the Brief Lives are … [Her edition] marks a new beginning for Aubrey scholarship … It is fitting that such scholarly devotion, extending over two decades, should have given rise to an edition that is an innovation in its own right. Nothing like it has appeared before, and it will last, if not forever, for a very long time.
[Ruth Scurr, Times Literary Supplement]

This is an outstanding achievement and will undoubtedly be the standard edition of the Brief Lives for the foreseeable future … In its rich and varied content it is of interest … to anyone studying English learned culture in the seventeenth century, particularly historians of the Royal Society, of mathematics and of antiquarianism. Aubrey himself was acutely concerned that his works should be satisfactorily edited and made use of after his death; in this edition he is luckier than he could have hoped for.
[Kelsey Jackson Williams, History]

Having heard Kate Bennet speak at the 2016 Anthony Powell Conference in York, and been fortunate enough to sit next to her at the conference dinner, I can certainly vouch for her enthusiasm, insight and wide-ranging interests. And this is an amazing piece of work.