BOOK REVIEW: An Introduction to Zen Training by Omori Sogen

An Introduction to Zen TrainingAn Introduction to Zen Training by Omori Sogen
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

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This is a guidebook that explains how to sit for meditation—particularly in the Rinzai style. It describes all the fundamentals one needs to begin Zen sitting including: posture, breathing, where to look, what to do with one’s hands, and even how to get up after a long session. It also provides background information about what to look for in a teacher, what differentiates Rinzai from Soto Zen, and what the objective of practice is (and why it is sought after.) This makes it sound like a dry, technical manual, and to some degree it’s unavoidably so. However, the author does include stories here and there to make the book more engaging and palatable. Overall, though, it’s written as a manual for students.

The book is arranged into 7 chapters, but it’s only the first five of these that are the author’s introduction to Zen meditation. These five chapters are logically arranged to cover the ground from why one should practice to what effects it will have with consideration of the aims, technique, and pitfalls covered in between. The last two chapters are commentaries on (including text from) a couple of the key documents of Zen Buddhism: “A Song of Zen” (Zazen Wazen) and “The Ten Oxherding Pictures.”

There are black and white graphics. First, there are line drawings used to convey information about posture and the physical body in meditation. Second, there are a few photographs of the author, including his dōjō and in the practice of swordsmanship. The author was a skilled swordsman; hence my tagging of this book in “martial arts,” as there may be some interest among martial artists in the author’s take as one who straddled the two worlds of Zen and budō. Finally, there are also copies of the ten ox herding pictures that go with the verse.

I think this book is well-organized and provides a beginner an excellent introduction to the practice of Zen. I didn’t really note any major deficiencies, and will thus recommend it as a good resource for anyone considering taking up a Zen practice or wanting to learn more about doing so. I should point out that the book does also get into the philosophical aspects of Zen, but if one isn’t looking for information about how to practice then there may be books more oriented toward one’s needs. Despite the fact that the book is a translation, it’s clear and readable. As I said, it includes stories—including those about Japanese warriors as well as Zen masters—and that helps to break up the dryness of what is at its core an instructional manual.

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BOOK REVIEW: Zen and the Brain by James H. Austin

Zen and the BrainZen and the Brain by James H. Austin
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

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Dr. Austin’s 900-page book looks at what the brain does during (and as a result of) the practice of Zen, and is a great resource for those interested in the science of meditative practices. It’s easy to sum up the strength and weakness of this book. With respect to the book’s greatest strength, it’s that the author—like the book—straddles two widely divergent worlds. He is at once a scientist and a practitioner of Zen. This gives him rare insight into both halves of the equation. This isn’t one of those books written by a spiritual seeker who uses the word “science” and “scientific” very loosely (and in a manner that shows a lack of understanding of the central premise of science.) On the other hand, it’s not one of those books by a scientist who got all of his understanding of meditation from other books.

As for the weakness, it’s that the book was written in the late 1990’s. Ordinarily, I would say that wouldn’t matter much, but concerning our understanding of the brain, it might as well have been the Stone Age—hyperbole duly noted. One doesn’t put together a book of almost 1000 pages overnight, and so much of the references for “Zen and the Brain” are actually from papers from the 1980’s and earlier. The fMRI (functional Magnetic Resonance Imaging) machine didn’t even come out until the early 1990’s, but—of course—it took a while for the studies featuring this powerful technology to reach publication.

The book is arranged into a whopping 158 chapters divided amongst 8 parts. Some of the chapters are pure neuroscience, and there are detailed descriptions of the brain and the functions of its various parts. Other chapters are designed to give one an insight into the practice of Zen and aren’t technical at all. The author has a reasonably engaging writing style when he’s not conveying the minutiae of brain science. He tells stories of his experience as a practitioner of Zen, and passes on the wisdom of past Zen masters.

I have an unconventional recommendation for this book, which I got so much out of. I recommend you first check out the book “Zen-Brain Horizons” put out by the same author and press (MIT Press) in 2014. While I haven’t yet read that book, it seems to hold three advantages. First, it’s only one-third as long and seems to cover similar material. Obviously, it goes into far less detail. (But you may find that a plus.) Second, the 2014 book is reasonably priced. “Zen and the Brain” is one of the most expensive books I’ve bought in recent years. I’m not saying I regret paying as much as I did, because it was a useful book, but cheaper would be better. Finally, the 2014 has the benefit of access to a lot of great research from the past couple decades. If you read the 2014 book and think you need more detail about the brain, then—by all means—get this book.

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BOOK REVIEW: The Elements by Theodore Gray

Elements: A Visual Exploration of Every Known Atom in the UniverseElements: A Visual Exploration of Every Known Atom in the Universe by Theodore Gray
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

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What element makes up most of your body by weight? Are diamonds really the hardest known material on Earth? How can you tell a genuine neon light from one that doesn’t contain any actual neon? Are silicon-based life forms really a possibility? How did phosphorous contribute to a human population explosion? How can one tell whether one’s “Titanium” golf club actually contains titanium? What is tin used for–given that it’s not tin cans, tin foil, or tin roofs? Which noble gas has been caught forming compounds with common elements? Why do welders have to get x-rays before an MRI? Why does Ytterby, Sweden have four elements named after it? Why are gorilla lovers boycotting tantalum? Which is better for committing homicide: Thallium or Polonium? [Hint: The answer depends on whether you want to send a message or not—if you know what I mean.] How much natural uranium can a private citizen possess in the US? Which, if any, of the elements named for people are named for the person who discovered them? These are the types of questions you’ll have answered while reading this book.

The most general question the book addresses is probably, how can one collect elements without setting the world on fire? [If that doesn’t make sense, I’d recommend Randall Munroe’s book “What If?” Munroe tells us what would happen if one tried to make a wall out of one square foot containers of each of the elements (in the form of the Periodic Table)? You’ll note that I said “tried to make” and not “made,” and that should tell you something.] Gray is an element collector, and the many photographs for each element show examples of the forms (including manufactured products) in which a given element can be acquired. You’ll also find out where the gaps will remain in your collection of pure elements. [On a related note, you’ll learn which elements are radioactive.] You also may be interested to hear what element sample the FBI confiscated from the author’s collection [hint: it wasn’t Uranium or Plutonium.]

The organization of the book is straight forward. There’s front matter that gives one a rudimentary primer on chemistry and the periodic table in order to refresh the knowledge that has fallen out of your brain since high school or college. But the bulk of the book consists of one short chapter for each element. The chapters each have a cover page containing a photo and some technical information about the element that will only be of interest to the very nerdiest of nerds. Then there’s a page or so of text, which gives some interesting factoids about the element and how it’s used. Finally, there’s a collection of photos of the element and some products that contain it—with one notable exception.

I enjoyed this book. It’s a quick read, but provides a lot of interesting information. And the author’s sense of humor shines here and there.

I read this book on a Kindle Touch. I mention this because true element groupies may find this less than ideal because of the lack of color. However, for me it was fine. Furthermore, the e-book formatting was good. Sometimes books with a lot of graphics don’t work out so well, but in this case it was not a problem.

I’d recommend this book for anyone interested in science, though if you know a lot about chemistry you may find it a bit remedial.

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BOOK REVIEW: Kalaripayat by Patrick Denaud

Kalaripayat: The Martial Arts Tradition of IndiaKalaripayat: The Martial Arts Tradition of India by Patrick Denaud
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

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There’s a dearth of books on Indian martial arts, in general, and Kalaripayattu, specifically. The few books that do exist, such as Ranjan Mullaratt’s “Kalari Margam” (a fine book which I’ve previously reviewed), focus heavily on the techniques of the martial art. Denaud builds a niche by writing perhaps the only English-language book yet that turns its focus on other aspects of the art, including the art’s history, philosophy, customs, psychology, and its influence on–and interaction with–other systems both in India and abroad (e.g. yoga, Kathakali, Ayurvedic massage, and Tai Chi.)

After three forwards by luminaries and an introduction, the book consists of seven chapters. The chapters cover the history and mythology of the art, Kalaripayattu as a martial art (weapons and techniques in general terms), the psychological aspects of the art, the art’s relationship with Ayurvedic practices—particularly massage, its relationship to other elements of Keralan culture, the results of interviews with modern-day masters, and the influence of India and Kalaripayattu on foreign martial arts.

When I picked this book up, I was somewhat expecting that it would contain little in the way of intriguing and relevant information, and that it would be stuffed with generally known background information. I’ve come across far too many books on topics for which there’s little information, and have become well-acquainted with the many methods by which authors pad out a pamphlet’s worth of information into a book. However, I was pleasantly surprised by how much information on Kalaripayattu this book contained, and how relevant the background seemed. While there’s a fair amount of background, the book doesn’t feel padded. Granted, I can’t be certain how much of this information is accurate. I know common myths are repeated that are now believed to be false (e.g. Bodhidharma spreading Kalaripayattu to Shaolin), but I saw nothing that seemed like pure fabrication (though I’d be unlikely to recognize such a thing.) Denaud does cite his sources (not in bibliographic format, just by attribution of authors and texts) on most occasions and it certainly wrings authoritatively.

I’d recommend this book for individuals interested in martial arts, and the history of martial arts. It’s a rare glimpse into various aspects of Kalaripayattu. Also, some people who are interested in south Indian culture more than martial arts may also find it worthwhile.

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BOOK REVIEW: Boxing Fitness by Ian Oliver

Boxing Fitness: A Guide to Get Fighting Fit (Fitness Series)Boxing Fitness: A Guide to Get Fighting Fit by Ian Oliver
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

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How does one skip rope, work the pads, or avoid nipple rash? If you think that boxing would be a fun way to get fit, this would probably be a useful book for you. Oliver shows a range of fitness practices—many specific to boxing, but others that are used in a number of sports and fitness activities—that will help one improve one’s fitness.

The reader will gain insight into bagwork, padwork, and boxing drills–from beginner to advanced. While the book’s emphasis isn’t on boxing technique, there’s a minimal discussion of the basics of footwork and punching designed to allow a reader to safely begin practice of bagwork and padwork. One also learns about roadwork, the basics of weightlifting as it’s useful for boxers, calisthenics, and other exercise routines that boxers use. It’s a small book and, therefore, doesn’t go into great detail on any particular subject. However, it does offer useful tips in a concise form.

There’s a chapter on equipment, but throughout the book the author gives advice on equipment as it’s relevant to the discussion at hand. The same is true of safety tips. There’s a chapter on injury and illness, but you’ll find insights into how to avoid injuries woven throughout.

I liked the approach of this book. While it shows one the age-old practices of fighters, it also describes more recent developments. In other words, it’s neither crusty and obsolete, nor does it try to re-invent every wheel in order to prove itself cutting edge. I also appreciated the author’s pragmatism—e.g. emphasizing the benefit of a strong core over that of six-pack building and suggesting dietary practices that are sound and simple rather than fads and fables.

Graphics include black and white photographs throughout a few diagrams. Most chapters have photographs, and they are generally sufficient to convey the necessary information without being overwhelming.

While this is a book of the basics, I found it to be a beneficial read and I appreciated the way it was arranged and the way information was conveyed. I’d recommend it for anyone interested in fitness for combative sports or who thinks boxing would be a good way for them to stay motivated to get fitter.

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BOOK REVIEW: The Harvard Medical School Guide to Tai Chi by Peter M. Wayne & Mark Fuerst

The Harvard Medical School Guide to Tai Chi: 12 Weeks to a Healthy Body, Strong Heart, and Sharp MindThe Harvard Medical School Guide to Tai Chi: 12 Weeks to a Healthy Body, Strong Heart, and Sharp Mind by Peter Wayne
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

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This book provides an overview (and a laymen-friendly literature review) of the scientific findings about tai chi, and it helps a beginner get started in his / her own practice. (Tai chi, short for tai chi chuan, is a Chinese martial art that is called an internal–or soft–style.)

The authors achieve an impressive tightrope act. And they manage to do it in a way that reads sincerely, while at the same time providing useful information for all readers. Often books on the science of Eastern health-enhancing activities (e.g. tai chi, chi gong, or yoga)–even if they are positive on the results of such activities—take digs at people’s beliefs about ideas like chi, prana, meridians, or chakra as the authors attempt to distance themselves from such beliefs. On the other hand, books that cater to the spiritually inclined—even when they are couched in scientific terms—may resort to third-hand anecdotes about the supernatural powers of some ancient master or report methodological train wrecks that support their views alongside sound studies, as long as the latter don’t present any evidence contrary to their belief system. In short, such books often talk in scientific lingo while showing a complete lack of understanding of the scientific method. In this book, Wayne manages to navigate these rocky shores because he’s both a scientist and a longtime tai chi practitioner who genuinely accepts that there may be more at work in the practice than science fully understands. Thus, he knows the importance of testable hypotheses and when a study needs to be validated by more a robust follow-up study, but he also reports on the traditional beliefs and isn’t adverse to writing about studies evaluating the benefits of spirituality (note: showing that being spiritual has benefits doesn’t mean that the benefits result from anything spiritual or supernatural.)

The book has 14 chapters divided into three parts. The first part introduces the reader to tai chi, describes the dimensions along which tai chi has been shown to offer benefits (the authors call these “the 8 active ingredients of Tai Chi,” relating them to pharmacological medicines), and explains how tai chi can be simplified for beginners (even the short form sequences take a while to be memorized—let alone building any grasp of the intricacies of said forms.) The second part consists of six chapters that report the findings of studies on the health effects of tai chi, as well as discussing the possible mechanisms of those benefits. The topics discussed in this section include: increased balance, bone density, pain mitigation, cardiovascular health, mental performance, psychological well-being, and sleep quality. The book’s last part suggests ways in which the reader can build a tai chi practice. The five chapters in this section deal with the interactive practices of tai chi (tai chi isn’t just the solo forms that you’ve seen elderly people do in the park), integrating tai chi with other health and fitness practices, the potential for practicing tai chi at work, the role of tai chi in creative practices, and tai chi as a practice of lifelong learning (this last chapter gives beginners tips about how to start a practice.) There is also an afterword about how tai chi might play a part in building improved health and well-being in the present era.

I found the book to be well-organized to achieve its objective. It’s packed with food for thought. Neophytes will find a lot of benefit in this book, but I suspect even advanced practitioners can glean insights—particularly if said advanced practitioner hasn’t been reading up on the scientific findings. Humor, quotes, and stories are used to lighten the tone and illustrate key points. There are some photos and other graphics where needed (mostly in chapter 3), but they are relatively sparse for a book on a practice like tai chi. (That’s not a complaint. I think there are far too many attempts to teach movement arts through books—an impossible task—and not enough effort put into conveying the kind of ancillary information that is transmissible in book form.)

I’d recommend this book for anyone who’s interested in knowing more about the health benefits of tai chi, and moving beyond the platitudes often heard but seldom evaluated.

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BOOK REVIEW: City P.D. Smith

City: A Guidebook for the Urban AgeCity: A Guidebook for the Urban Age by P.D. Smith
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

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Desmond Morris wrote about the rise of super-tribes—groupings of people in which it was no longer possible for every member to know every other. Morris controversially proposed that super-tribes facilitated the growth of many behaviors that are considered weird, perverse, or aberrant. The fact that the seedy underbelly of society resides right under the greatest concentration of noses is one of the reasons we find cities fascinating. But it’s not the only reason. (Smith touches on but doesn’t dwell on the seamy side of the city, including sidebars on gangs and red-light districts.) The tremendous challenges of governance, distribution, transportation, and security that arise when people are packed together are huge.

Smith gives a fascinating overview of the past, present, and possible future of the city. We learn about a time when the most advanced cities in the world weren’t New York, London, or Tokyo, but instead were Sumer, Tenochtitlan, or Angkor. (A nice feature of this book is how much ground it covers geographically. Smith brings in examples from ancient Alexandria to modern-day Mumbai in addition to those from cities–such as New York, Tokyo, and Paris–that might first pop to mind when one thinks of a city.) The reader is shown a city as an organism that has to get food and workers to its heart while expelling a massive accumulation of wastes. Cities require homeostasis as much as does the human body.

The book has eight chapters that discuss topics such as the rise of the city and how it was tied to human endeavors more generally (e.g. on the agricultural front), the development of neighborhoods, the challenge of transportation in an ever-growing community, how cities manage to be exemplary of both wealth and poverty at the same time, how the masses are entertained given the free time that arose from specialization and regulation of the labor market, and what the future of cities might bring. It’s topically, rather than chronologically arranged (though the discussion of the rise of the city is early in the book), and the organization works though it’s not necessarily what would spring to mind if one were outlining such a book.

I found this book fascinating. It’s full of interesting information and uses graphics and sidebars to good effect. If it can be called a micro-history (the subject of the urban world being so encompassing), it’s among the most interesting micro-histories that I’ve read. Whether it’s churches, Chinatowns, or coffee houses, this book lends insight into the nooks and crannies of the modern metropolis. The sections on subway systems and skyscrapers are among the most fascinating sub-chapters. (It just occurred to me that the last sentence could be taken in some sort of freaky, sexual way. That wasn’t my intention. I just find the engineering challenges of such infrastructure to be intriguing.) From gladiatorial combat to the birth of libraries, there’s something in this book to pique a reader’s interest.

I’d highly recommend this book for readers of non-fiction, and in particularly those who enjoy micro-histories.

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BOOK REVIEW: Maphead by Ken Jennings

Maphead: Charting the Wide, Weird World of Geography WonksMaphead: Charting the Wide, Weird World of Geography Wonks by Ken Jennings
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

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In a sad commentary TV’s popularity, you may only know Ken Jennings from his record winning streak on Jeopardy, and the books he’s written since then may have escaped your attention. But Jennings isn’t just a fast-handed font of trivia, he writes nonfiction that is approachable, intriguing, and displays a good sense of humor.

Maphead is about maps and the people who love them, and–in some cases–who build their lives around various forms of graphic depiction of our world. In 12 chapters, Jennings not only reflects upon the many forms of map and geography fetish, he also presents insight on the opposite–the often dismaying and sometimes hilarious geographic illiteracy of college students and beauty queens. Besides learning about the million dollar outlays of rare map collectors and the intense rivalry of geocache hunters, Geography Bee contestants, and Traveler’s Century Club members (only those who’ve been to 100+ countries need apply), you’ll hear about a college professor who was fired for letting fly the fact that a majority of his incoming students hadn’t the vaguest idea of the whereabouts of metropoles like London or Chicago.

This book may seem like it’s only for those geeky to an obsessive level, but it’s one intriguing work of geo-geekery. It’s certainly for the intellectually inclined, but Jennings doesn’t bludgeon the reader with his intellect. True, you’ll be introduced to terms like hypsometric maps and cartacacoethes, but never in a manner that suggests a normal person would know such arcane terms. As might be expected from a trivia master, Jennings heavily seasons his book with fascinating tidbits and factoids—particularly in the chapter of the National Geographic “geography bee.” You’ll learn how the borders work between countries that drive on opposite sides of the road (I’ve experienced this myself from Cambodia to Thailand, and that may be the only place in the world where it occurs.) You’ll learn what’s in a name, and why one like “Whorehouse Meadows” was doomed from the start. You’ll learn about why maps that are wrong are often the most prized.

But it’s not all trivia. Jennings takes on serious questions as well. For example, he reflects on the degree to which kids being prohibited from venturing out into the world because of an overblown concern about pedophilic maniacs has contributed to a geographically uninterested and incapable student body. The reader is exposed to a history in which mapmakers were adventurers—the stuff of legends. In doing so, Jennings attempts to reignite a passion for geography that is lacking in a post-frontier world. We’ve become jaded by our planetary proliferation. But the book’s excitement isn’t all in the past. One learns about vintage map thieves and the sometimes wild and wooly world of modern travel (e.g. where one should get passport stamps on a separate sheet of paper to avoid border rectal exams.)

Maybe it’s the maphead in me, but I’d recommend this book for anyone who reads nonfiction. And if you’re not sure whether you’re a maphead or not, there’s a handy quiz in the back of the book.

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BOOK REVIEW: What is Life? by Addy Pross

What Is Life?: How Chemistry Becomes BiologyWhat Is Life?: How Chemistry Becomes Biology by Addy Pross
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

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Dr. Pross’s book shares a title (but not a subtitle) with the seminal work by the renowned physicist Erwin Schrödinger from 1944. While Schrödinger addresses a wide range of topics on how life might be explained in terms of physics and chemistry, Pross’s focus is narrower. Pross asks—and proposes an answer for—the straightforward (but thorny) question of how abiogenesis could occur. Abiogenesis is life from the non-living. Darwin did an excellent job of explaining how we could get from single-celled organisms to the great complexity we see in our own bodies, but Darwin didn’t touch the question of how that very first ancestor became animated.

The subtitle of this work, “How Chemistry Becomes Biology,” gives one insight into how Pross proceeds. There’ve been many ideas about how life came to be on planet Earth over the years. For a time, the idea of panspermia—life arriving from an extraterrestrial source—was popular. Of course, the most popular belief has been that there was a force of life (i.e. an “élan vital”) breathed into non-living matter by a, presumably, supernatural force / entity. While the awe-inspiring nature of life made this idea appealing / believable, it took a hit from the Urey-Miller experiments. Said experiment exposed the four materials believed to have been the most common in our pre-biologic atmosphere (hydrogen, ammonia, methane, and water vapor) to lightning, and the result included a range of organic materials—including amino acids–the building blocks of… well, us, among the other life forms of the planet. Of course, Urey-Miller didn’t make abiogenesis a foregone conclusion, but the production of ever more complex self-replicating molecules under laboratory conditions has made it easier to digest the notion that life developed without any intelligent or supernatural push.

While Pross’s ideas are at the stage of hypothesis, he develops a compelling explanation that revolves around the idea of dynamic kinetic stability. “Dynamic Kinetic Stability” is a mouthful, and so it’s necessary to break it down. The best place to start is with the “stability” part. This is because the biggest problem for an abiogenetical theory of life is the Second Law of Thermodynamics. The Second Law tells us that entropy increases. There are many ways of restating this, such as that chemical reactions move to states that are of lower free energy. However, the most intuitive way is to say that a beer mugs break but do not spontaneously pop into existence. So if everything is getting simpler by deteriorating, breaking, and decomposing, how does one get / maintain a stable state of complexity? First and foremost, the answer involves adding a lot of energy and resources, but there’s more to it than that–as the author explains. “Dynamic” can also be explained in complex terms, but it’s most easily thought of as being like a river in that the river’s existence is stable, but it’s always a different river—ever changing water molecules arranged differently. (Critically, our bodies are the same way. Except for neurons, our cells are constantly being replaced.) The term “kinetic” speaks to how said replacement takes place; replication must be fast and decay slow.

The appeal of the ideas put forth by Pross is that they’re conceptually consistent with Darwinian Evolution. That is, an entirely new set of principles isn’t necessary to make sense of the origins of life. Pross argues that the self-replicating molecules that can most effectively put resources to use succeed in doing so, and—in the process–they drive others into extinction.

I found this book interesting and readable. The author uses good analogies to make his points (which often deal in complex matter) as clearly as possible. I can’t disagree with the other reviewers who’ve pointed out that the book is a bit repetitive and drags out a relatively simple statement of the argument. It’s not so egregious that I could say that it’s necessarily the result of a desire to pad the book out to a length necessary to sell in hard-copy form. (But it might have been.) The understanding of this topic is in its infancy, but that doesn’t mean this book isn’t a valuable contribution to popular understanding of abiogenesis.

I’d recommend this book for anyone interested in reflecting on from whence we came in a fashion that is open-minded to explanations that eschew the supernatural.

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BOOK REVIEW: Fight Like a Physicist by Jason Thalken

Fight Like a Physicist: The Incredible Science Behind Martial ArtsFight Like a Physicist: The Incredible Science Behind Martial Arts by Jason Thalken
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

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When I saw this book’s title, I imagined a bloodied and battered Poindexter in a bow-tie–a professorial type dying in a puddle of his own bodily fluids as he calculated the Bayesian probability of winning given that initial beating. After all, physics is a highly cerebral activity, and being cerebral in a fight is a certain path to a beat down. However, Thalken makes a good point with his explanation of the title (and the book’s theme.) He’s suggesting that one use tactics and techniques that are supported by evidence and rooted in a sound understanding of the science of combat—as opposed to mindlessly doing whatever your sensei tells you or–worse yet–just muddling through on a combination of instinct and ignorance. In short, be skeptical, but inquiring. It turns out that there is a time for a fighter to be cerebral, but it’s when they are making decisions about how to train.

The book is divided into two parts. The first part explains how classical mechanics can help one to be a better fighter. There are four chapters in this section that deal with center of mass and its crucial role in a fight, the differences between high momentum and high energy strikes and how each is achieved, differences in circular versus linear paths and where the advantage in each lies, and what simple machines (i.e. levers and wedges) can do for a fighter. This section is what one would expect from such a book. Unlike the second section, which deals largely with sport fighters, the advice on offer in the first section is as applicable to those involved in self-defense or other real world combative situations as it is to fighters in the ring.

The second section examines the issue of concussions and brain damage in some detail, including consideration of the degree to which gloves and headgear do—or don’t—make one safer. The reader gains great insight into the mechanics and neuroscience of a knockout. While the majority of the section offers advice for those engaged in combative sports, the last two chapters take a bit of a turn. The first of these two deals with the myths perpetuated by Hollywood—which, let’s face it, is the source of most people’s information on what combat is. Debunking the notion that a person who gets shot is always and everywhere instantly incapacitated is a central theme this chapter. The last chapter deals with the issue of pseudoscience in the martial arts, and the insanity of believing one can defeat an opponent with chi (also qi, or—in Japanese Romanization–ki) or mind power alone. These last two chapters seem like a turn from the main theme of the book, but they do stay under the umbrella of the martial arts through a scientific lens.

While this is a book about science, it’s readable even for an educated non-scientist. All the math is put in boxes that the reader can opt to skip, or to follow, depending upon his or her comfort level with equations. There is no complex jargon, nor any incomprehensible concepts. The physics is largely high school level Newtonian mechanics.

Diehard believers in the supernatural or pseudo-scientific conceptions of the universe should be warned that this isn’t the book for you unless you like your sacred cows flame-broiled. You won’t learn about chi (qi) in this book except to be reminded that it’s a make-believe concept.

I’d recommend this book for those who are interested in how science can be applied to the martial arts or human movement more generally. It’s short, readable, and offers some interesting food for thought.

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