Via book reviews and Fb posts, I’m aware of 2 or 3 new nonfiction books published every week that look interesting enough to consider reading. I restrain myself; at most I buy 2 or 3 new nonfiction books a month out of those, the most important or relevant ones, or the ones I think I’ll most likely have time to actually read. And of course still don’t read all those that I buy in a timely fashion.
Once in a while my calculation of which books are actually the most important to buy requires retroactive revision. My first takes are not always correct; so I correct myself.
The occasion is a book published at the end of September by an unfamiliar author, though from a reputable publisher, called When We Cease to Understand the World, by Benjamín Labatut (from New York Review Books [not affiliated with NYT]). It was reviewed in the NYT:
With his slippery hybrid of fact and fiction, Labatut slyly applies the uncertainty principle to the human pursuit of knowledge itself. Abstraction and imagination, measurement and story coexist in a multidimensional reality containing infinite destinies and interpretations. At its furthest reaches, reason and scientific inquiry lead into the unknowable.
It’s not science fiction; it’s not science, or history exactly; it’s some odd blend, perhaps an ideal blend of concepts to appeal to me as about how human beings understand the universe only up to a point. Perhaps. Or perhaps just woo? I read the review, noted it as one of those 2 or 3 per week, and moved on. (With all those 2 or 3 per week that I don’t buy, my policy is always to reconsider should they get further attention, of course.)
Then earlier this month, the book was included among the top 10 of New York Times’ Best Books of 2021. Suddenly it became essential to have. I’ve followed the NYT Book Review and its annual best books lists since I was at UCLA, 45 years ago. I certainly don’t try to read all of their picks, but I do try to read those that in any way appeal to my interests and tastes; if I haven’t already read it, I depend on their independent assessments to override any of my hesitation, or make up for my unawareness.
So I ordered it from Amazon.
Amazon said, still says, it will arrive Jan. 11 – Jan. 12, 2022. No reason. The publicity has brought about so many orders, the book needs new printings? Or something about the supply-side crisis?
(Another book I’d ordered recently didn’t show up and didn’t show up until Amazon advised that it was likely lost and I should cancel the order to get a refund.)
So meanwhile, I thought I’d check out a couple physical bookstores in my area, just because. How fun to shop a bookstore looking for a particular book, something I haven’t done in decades.
Have not tried B&N, but I did check Pegasus in Berkeley, Walden Pond in Oakland. Not only didn’t they have it in stock, but had to look it up; they weren’t aware of it. I don’t blame them exactly; it’s still an obscure book, published only a couple months ago, that they for whatever reason simply haven’t stocked yet. Walden Pond has a whole table for Booker winners, NYT Top 10 winners of 2020… but not one yet for 2021.
So I’m letting my Amazon order stand.
Endpiece
Meanwhile, my partner Y drove to Macy’s today, to try to exchange a couple items he’d ordered online. The in-store stock was way down, he said. Apparently they are adjusting to an online-order world. He couldn’t exchange his items, but the staff helped him order replacements, online.
Also, today: added some cross-reference links on sfadb.com between Sterling Blake and Gregory Benford, and between S.P. Somtow and Somtow Sucharitkul. The latter issue prompted by a physical letter from John Hertz, written in May 2021 to Locus, and forwarded to me from Locus in October. Apparently John Hertz doesn’t do email.
And: spent an hour working a post for a significant nonfiction book, read almost three years ago, that I haven’t yet posted about because my notes were too long! There are several books like this. Hope to finish this one tomorrow.
