The Calculus Diaries - Jennifer Ouellette [2]
I also benefited greatly from close readings of a handful of other works, most notably Charles Seife’s Zero: The Biography of a Dangerous Idea; Jason Bardi’s The Calculus Wars; David Berlinski’s A Tour of the Calculus; and Leonard Mlodinow’s The Drunkard’s Walk. All were instrumental in shaping my thinking about the concepts of calculus. When it came to putting those concepts into practice, I found W. Michael Kelley’s The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Calculus to be a helpful resource.
Thanks are due to the many people (mathephiles and mathephobes alike) who generously shared their stories and insights over the two years I spent researching and writing this book, including (but not limited to) Bisi Agboola, Dave Bacon, Jason Bardi, Allyson Beatrice, Adam Boesel, Ben Carey, Deborah Castleman, Rob Chiappetta, Calla Cofield, K. C. Cole, Julianne Dalcanton, Geoffrey Edelstein, Adam Frank, Milton Garces, David Grae, David Gross, Lauren Gunderson, Kevin Hand, David Harris, Joanne Hewett, Karen Heyman, Daniel Holz, Alice Hung, Valerie Jamieson, George Johnson, Rich Kim, Lee Kottner, Tom Levenson, M. G. Lord, Gabrielle Lyon, Malcolm MacIver, Alex Morgan, Chad Orzel, Dennis Overbye, Phil Plait, Joe Polchinski, Lisa Randall, Abbas Raza, James Riordon, David Saltzberg, Robert Smith?, Tara Smith, Shari Steelsmith-Duffin, Ben Stein, Brian Switek, Carol Tavris, Kip Thorne, Mark Trodden, Jatila van der Veen, Robin Varghese, Rosie Walton, Gordon Watts, Margaret Wertheim, Risa Wechsler, Glen Whitman, Carolee Winstein, Mark Wise, and Tony Zee. Extra special thanks to Janet Blumberg, Diandra Leslie-Pelecky, and Eric Roston, who slogged through parts of the draft manuscript and offered helpful critiques.
Jason Torchinsky did a fantastic job devising nifty illustrations of the abstract concepts throughout the book. Thanks are also due to Thomas Roberge, my editor at Penguin, and to my agent, Mildred Marmur, who offered her usual unstinting support and sage advice. And as always, I am deeply grateful to friends and family; miraculously, everyone still speaks to me after yet another lengthy disappearing act to write a book.
I took great pains to ensure I understood the underlying concepts, not just the mechanical processes of calculus. Invariably, this means channeling one’s inner three-year-old and constantly asking “Why?” That can get pretty annoying. So I owe the greatest debt to my husband, Sean Carroll (aka the World’s Most Patient Man), who put up with my inner toddler for two years. I’m not sure I would have written this book without him. He helped me “find the calculus” in each chapter and allowed me to caricature him in the text for comic effect. He also proof-read the entire manuscript and deftly avoided the odd bit of metaphorical heaved crockery when I hit an obstacle (“integrate that!”), calmly guiding me toward the solution. I promise my next book will be about something simpler, like butterflies and rainbows. Or bunnies. Surely there’s no math in bunnies.
PROLOGUE
I Could Be Mathier
Xander: Giles lived for school. He’s actually still bitter that there are only twelve grades.
Buffy: He probably sat in math class thinking, There should be more math. This could be mathier.
—“THE DARK AGE,”
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Archimedes of Syracuse was the quintessential math nerd. Granted, he invented many practical devices, including devastatingly effective engines of war that helped Syracuse beat back an attack by the Roman general Marcellus in the siege of 212 B.C.—at least temporarily. But his one true love was pure mathematics, especially geometry. The Roman historian Plutarch tells how Archimedes’ servants had to forcibly bathe their preoccupied master, who would sketch geometrical figures in chimney embers, and in the oils