(7/10)  Matt Ridley, author of Genome, continues his explanation of genetics and genetic theories.  The book is split roughly into two parts.  In the first, Ridley explains the concept of the “Red Queen” hypothesis in evolution and describes some of the biological debates where it has contributed.  In this first half, his focus is largely on non-human animals; birds, bugs, and non-human apes are major players.  In the second half, he turns to humans, discussing what the Red Queen theory may imply or explain about human behavior and (especially) human psychology.

In keeping with this bipartite structure, he espouses two major conclusions, though he is very careful to present many different sides and arguments in each debate he examines.  The first is that the major reason that many species have two (rather than one, or thirteen, for example) sexes is that sex is a response to a Red Queen race between parasites and hosts.  The major point of the second half is that human intelligence may be the result of a similar race – but among humans.  The implication is that intelligence is an elaborate, sexually selected fashion.

While these are the core ideas, he looks at a number of different viewpoints to come to them, and he admits freely that they may be either wholly or partially incorrect.  Nevertheless, they’re fascinating ideas.  This, along with his scrupulous coverage of varying perspectives, saves the book from at times unbearable cutesiness.  He may be trying to make genetics more interesting for non-scientists, but I found many of his tangents far less interesting than the actual information.

(5/10)  The first in a fantasy series by Jane Lindskold, Thirteen Orphans tells a fairly standard but entertaining story.  The plot revolves around a young girl, Brenda, who accepts with surprising equanimity that her father is the earthly embodiment of the Rat, a power that escaped several generations ago from an alternate, magical world.  In fact, there are thirteen such powers, each familiar in that it represents one of the twelve Chinese zodiac symbols, plus the Cat, who is in fact the exiled heir to the empire, though he makes only a few, fairly unimportant appearances in the book.

The magic system is based on the game of mahjong, and it involves summoning various creatures (primarily dragons).  It is somewhat amusing to read about the magical learning process and the various mistakes made by Brenda and her fellow zodiac-powered magic wielders, but the whole thing feels formulaic.  Also, the enemy menace just never feels all that menacing.

That being said, I was enough entertained that I will probably spend another couple of hours reading the sequel.

(8/10)  Paolo Bacigalupi delivers a story comprised of the perspectives of five deeply flawed characters.  Anderson Lake, the first point of view, is a calorie man from AgriGen, one of the companies intent on making the entire world pay for the privilege of eating.  Jaidee is a member of the Environmental Ministry, tasked with keeping potentially impure outside influences away from the Thai Kingdom.  The Environmental Ministry, though deeply corrupted, is at heart an organization at odds with the interests of the calorie companies and the Trade Ministry, the arm of the government willing to embrace them.  Kanya is Jaidee’s second-in-command, a somber, embittered woman with secrets.  Emiko is the windup girl, more of a catalyst than an actor in the larger events surrounding her, who nevertheless has an important symbolic role.  Last, Hock Seng is a yellow card, one of the many Chinese refugees from Malaya who are barely tolerated by the Thai government.  He works as Anderson’s assistant, scrambling in every way he can to continue his unlikely survival in the wake of the massacre in Malaya.

Each thread of narrative links to the others, though sometimes the timeline jumps counter-intuitively.  While this can be disconcerting, Bacigalupi succeeds in drawing the characters enough into each others’ lives to form a cohesive story, though the reader is left with the impression that each individual struggle for survival in fundamentally separate.  The seeds of what will happen are embedded in the start of the story, making it seem fated, though it is anything but predictable.  These  forces move, subtly but not invisibly, first in the background, and then quite literally swamping the city.  Towards the end, the tension mounts but is never resolved between the vision of people as pawns to merciless, unknowable forces, and people as gods able to direct evolution.

(6/10)  What an odd book.  Of course, having already read some of Angela Carter’s work (The Bloody Chamber), I had an inkling of what I was in for.  Love has all the halting, ethereal, brutal grace characteristic of Carter. It tells of Lee, his wife Annabel, and his brother Buzz, all linked by licentiousness, violence, and betrayal.  And of course, love.  For much of the story, the three live together, supported by Lee.  He is, I suppose, the one whose point of view is most easily accessible, which is fairly disturbing given the course of events.

All three are products of very specific households.  For Lee and Buzz especially, the accounts of how they received their names, the fact of their mother’s madness, and the severity of their aunt’s care gives a good deal of insight into their bizarre formations.  But Carter has the knack of making her characters more than the sum of their revealed experiences (which is more or less essential to all good characterization).  Overall, the book is quirky and intense, but it ultimately fails to persuade the reader to care very deeply about any of its protagonists, despite their eccentricities and depth.

(8/10)  It is easy to see how this book derives value from the words and experiences of the interviewees.  Steve Wozniak from Apple, Mitchell Kapor from Lotus Development, and Mike Ramsay from TiVo are three of many who have amazing stories to tell.  Just as important, however, is the work of the interviewer: the editing, ordering, framing, and selecting.  Access to information is key, and Livingston is a superb facilitator.  Some questions are oft-repeated, but the chapters never feel formulaic, and the conversations seem immediate and real.

The book focuses solely on technology startups.  If you’re looking for information about other types of entrepreneurial endeavors, this may not be the ideal choice, but if you’re at all interested in high-tech startups, you won’t want to miss a single chapter.  Both technical and business people are represented, and a variety of different outcomes are covered.  Plenty of the founders had major acquisitions, but the reader has the benefit of hearing from those who were less successful, or successful in different ways.

For me, the most capitvating aspect of the book was the stories.  Since many of the interviewees reference each other, the reader gets to see a lot of situations from multiple points of view, which all weave together.  And each story brims with advice.  Occasionally, the founders contradict each other, but the reader is given enough context to interpret those contradictions and understand the different speakers’ positions.  Advice just doesn’t distill well – you need context and perspective to appreciate certain things, which is part of what makes this book so effective.

The speakers themselves are great storytellers.  I don’t know for sure how accurately they all portray themselves, but I got the impression that they spoke with a good deal of candor about both the good and the bad.  Certain people are unquestionably good with words; others have interesting things to say but struggle with saying them well.  Honestly, reading Founders at Work, I couldn’t tell which of the founders fall in which category.  The work of a good interviewer is to represent the best, most eloquent self of her subject, which is exactly what Livingston has done, while keeping the voices distinct and (I assume) faithful.

I’ve read some reviews complaining that so many interviews in a row make for dry reading, but I did not find that to be the case at all.  Thanks to the format, flow, and length of the selections, not to mention just how fascinating the material is, I was never bored.  Though this may not be the kind of bite-sized book easily read in one sitting, I wouldn’t want it to be.  It has a certain informational heft to it, and I, for one, benefited from a few intermittent periods of digestion.