Author: Clifford A Pickover
Publisher: Sterling Publishing, 2009
Price: £11.99 (paperback)
Isbn: 9781402764004

Mathematics and mysticism have been irresistibly entwined since before Pythagoras. The way number seems to be written into the very base code of the Universe and to reveal its structure to us suggests that it has qualities beyond the descriptive, and that by manipulating numbers you can manipulate the Universe. Because of this, it has become the tool of choice for many myst­ical belief systems and, in turn, has driven many mathematicians towards the mystic.

It is this cross-over of science and spirituality in the world of maths that Pickover explores here. He wastes no time in gett­ing to the core of the issue, starting with the question: ‘Is God a mathematician?’

He looks at the Fibonacci series (1,1,2,3,5,8,13 etc, a sequence where each number equals the sum of the two before), which turns up in the structure of sunflower heads, the florets of broccoli and all sorts of other places in nature; and examines the logarithmic spirals of sea shells, animal horns and our inner ear. He even asks the question: ‘Are numbers Gods?’

He has a deep knowledge of the subject and picks arresting examples to make his points. It will help, at times, if you have a moderate level of maths to get the exact detail of what Pickover is saying. However if, like me, you are not enormously blessed in this department, you can still understand the gist of what is going on, though I can’t say that the writing helps. Cliff­ord Pick­over is an experienced science communicator with an impressive array of books to his name, but he lacks confidence in his ability as a writer to convey ideas. Here, as in many of his other books, he has felt compelled to create fictional characters (in this case, an intergalactic historian and his assistant) whose dialogue provides the excuse for explanations.

I know this is meant to make maths more accessible, carry non-specialists along with a bit of humour and allow obvious quest­ions to be asked, but it doesn’t work. Your train of thought is constantly interrupted by the witter­ings of these two, who aren’t funny – just arch and intrusive. It makes the whole thing a much harder read than it need be.

Nonetheless, he covers loads of excellent material: Pythagoras, of course – and more than just his maths; people who have used mathematical methods to predict the end of the world; St Augustine’s numerical interpret­ation of the Bible; Ramon Lull’s Ars Magna; Ken Campbell’s favourites, the Montanists (who, he notes, claimed to have seen a walled city floating over Judea for 40 consecutive mornings); and the various mathematical readings of Stonehenge.

Inevitably, there is a good look at fractals and mysticism, but, pleasingly, there’s also an examin­ation of the mysterious and still largely undeciphered quipu cords the Incas used to encode information.
More tenuously, he links the kabala (the proper Hebrew one, not the trendy Madonna version) with string theory.

He returns to maths and the end of the world in a chapter called ‘Eschaton Now’, which is a sign of another problem with the book: it was written in 1997, and this is a reprint. Back then, with the Millennium looming, apocalyptic concerns were higher-profile than perhaps they are today, and a lot of books had chapters of this kind. Not that there is anything wrong with a good chapter on the Apocalypse, even today. However, what really could have done with an update are all the parts of the book where Pickover gives simple computer code to carry out some of the mathematical functions he describes. I am sure they would still work if one really wanted to code, but with the proliferat­ion of websites offering just about any service you require, there are more convenient ways of doing this now. It also means that his footnote describing this wonderful new thing ‘usenet’ where you can find groups that discuss stuff relating to the topics of the book is not only very misleading these days, but actively laughable.

Loom of God is full of nuggets of treasure, has loads of really great illustrations and a percept­ive and imaginative take on the fascinating corner where science and religion meet.

What emerges clearly here is that maths gives the lie to the idea peddled by Dawkins and other ultra-Darwinist zealots that science and religion are implacably opposed. In some areas, they are almost impossibly interlinked.

However, the strained comedy writing and the dated elements mean this is a lumpy and uneven book, although one still worth mining for the gems.