I’ve noticed an increasing tendency for book titles to be at odds with their contents. The reason is obvious – these are marketing titles. The most egregious example is that otherwise brilliant book Turing’s Cathedral by George Dyson. The book hardly mentions Turing and is almost entirely about people who could be regarded as Turing’s rivals: the mathematicians of the Princeton Institute for Advanced Study. It’s a bit like calling a book about the Reformation: The Pope’s Churches. Well, I exaggerate but you get the idea.
At the moment I’m reviewing Philip Ball’s Curiosity. Another fine book by my favourite science writer. But for a while I was puzzled because although curiosity is an organizing concept behind the book, it is really A History of Science in the 17th Century. Now that would not be a selling title, whereas “Curiosity” – we’ve all go that haven't we?
A few lesser examples come to mind. Bill Bryson’s At Home purported to be a look at life, the universe and everything seen though the lens of the rooms in his house. A good idea – each familiar object linked to its history in the universe. But it isn’t that: actually its a ragbag of random observations. Nicholas Rankin's Churchill's Wizards is about camouflage and deception in WWI and 2. The title strictly refers only to WW2. Jerry Fodor and Massimo Piattelli-Palmarini’s What Darwin Got Wrong is really an attack on the Modern Synthesis promulgated almost a century after Darwin's time. And so on . . . It says much about our culture that we cannot declare accurately what our books are about. Marketing departments insist on a selling title at all costs. For the moment, you can’t judge a book by its title.
At the moment I’m reviewing Philip Ball’s Curiosity. Another fine book by my favourite science writer. But for a while I was puzzled because although curiosity is an organizing concept behind the book, it is really A History of Science in the 17th Century. Now that would not be a selling title, whereas “Curiosity” – we’ve all go that haven't we?
A few lesser examples come to mind. Bill Bryson’s At Home purported to be a look at life, the universe and everything seen though the lens of the rooms in his house. A good idea – each familiar object linked to its history in the universe. But it isn’t that: actually its a ragbag of random observations. Nicholas Rankin's Churchill's Wizards is about camouflage and deception in WWI and 2. The title strictly refers only to WW2. Jerry Fodor and Massimo Piattelli-Palmarini’s What Darwin Got Wrong is really an attack on the Modern Synthesis promulgated almost a century after Darwin's time. And so on . . . It says much about our culture that we cannot declare accurately what our books are about. Marketing departments insist on a selling title at all costs. For the moment, you can’t judge a book by its title.
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