Marius

This is a challenging book to assess. My first question, upon finishing it, is “who is this for?”

The science is too involved for a scientifically illiterate fundamentalist creationist audience, the sardonic tone likewise off-putting to them, and the atheists like me who share his broad perspective hardly need a hand-held walk through the garden of nature's wonders and weirdnesses.

Then again, maybe we do: it should be emphasised that this book makes for a fantastic full spectrum look at the subject of evolutionary theory, one complete with some excellent analogies, stunning facts, and wise correlations. Anyone with a high school level understanding of biology will be more than equipped to follow along and learn.

Unfortunately, Dawkins' extensive expertise in the subject matter often falls prey to his fairly direct sense of humour, expressed via a mocking tone that does more to further the stereotype of him as a shrill British ponce than to reveal his truer nature as a passionate humanist.

Inevitably, I am drawn to wonder what the inimitable Christopher Hitchens would have done with a similar task, equipped with Dawkins' subject expertise. I suspect his subtler wit, fantastically evocative writing, and sophisticated understanding of debate would have produced a finer work.

Nevertheless, I would not hesitate to recommend The Greatest Show On Earth to anyone who seeks a peerless introduction to the current state of evolutionary theory, or to a thicker-skinned creationist seeking to inform themselves about the opposing side in the debate about the origins of life.

Embarrassing example of what happens when good writers are paid to adapt material that isn't their own at a pace that isn't conducive to good work. Micro is rushed, messy, flat, and boring — which is a tragic set of adjectives to use for a book that draws even the slightest amount of content from Michael Crichton.

While it preaches to the choir to a certain extent, many incisive and eye-opening facts are presented in a very engaging manner.

The core message of the book is that the vast majority of what is written and read today about “health” and “diets” and other similar subjects concerning our well-being are in actual fact supported by claims that have utterly vacuous science behind them — if any at all. If you're into homeopathy or any New Age-y methodologies for improving your quality of life, you're in for some rude awakenings.

One subject that is thankfully covered in detail is the complexity of the placebo effect. Because many of the readers of Goldacre's critique will quickly fire back the expected “but they DO work for me!” arguments, he has taken the time to explain what the placebo effect actually is — why it “working” may not mean quite what you expect — and how truly fascinating the science behind it is.

He is also quick to point out that the placebo effect, carefully dressed, is also what has allowed the book's villainous charlatans to mislead and exploit the gullible, the tired, the sick, and the stupid for so long.

As far as a pop-lit critique of modern scientific marketing goes, I consider it required reading. As a scholarly effort, it's not without its problems, but those neither diminish its value nor cloud the integrity of its point.

The world would be a better place if all highschool students had “Bad Science” on their mandatory reading lists.

This is a ridiculous book.

Jenny Lawson's blogging career is a pale curtain disguising a life so breathtakingly wild that even with the suspicion that much of this book is exaggerated, the fact remains that she's lived a magnificently hilarious life. Reading about it is a consistently compelling experience.

Also, be aware that you will likely split your sides laughing, because the stream-of-consciousness tangents and improbable anecdotes paint the picture of a person so bizarre and off the wall that we find her effortlessly charming in ways that are familiar to all introverts, nerds, and socially awkward people.

Highly recommended.