The Riddle of the Compass.

Amir Aczel’s The Riddle of the Compass: The Invention that Changed the World isn’t as strong as his first two books, Fermat’s Last Theorem (a very math-heavy book but one that relies on the centuries-long efforts to solve that problem for narrative greed) and God’s Equation (a more accessible work about great “blunder” by Albert Einstein that turned out to be correct). Although the story within Compass is mildly interesting, the book – just 159 pages in paperback, including diagrams and a few blank pages between chapters – is so superficial that we get neither story nor an interesting character. In fact, the predominant character in the book probably never existed.

Aczel argues that the compass was, at the time it was invented, the most important invention since the wheel, and produces a reasonable case for the argument while splitting time between the western “invention” of the compass and the evidence for a much earlier invention in China, where the device was used in medicine and by magicians but seldom if ever used for navigation in a country that rarely took to the sea. He takes a detour into Italian history, including an interesting chapter on Amalfi (now known as a tourist mecca, but briefly a maritime power and a flourishing city-state) that is itself a digression from the early inquiry into the alleged inventor of the compass, Flavio Gioia. It seems likely that Gioia himself never existed, and while it’s amusing to see how a missing comma could lead to the creation of a historical personage, it’s not much of a basis for a book.

Aczel accentutates the problem by himself glossing over details that, even if tangential, would add color to the book. While bemoaning both the west’s dismissive and patronizing treatment of Chinese culture during for most of the last millennium and China’s refusal (under multiple regimes) to reveal many scientific and medical secrets, he mentions the very recent discovery that an herb that Chinese doctors have long used as a treatment for malaria has had promising results in tests in western studies. He never mentions the plant’s name (it’s a type of wormwood known by the Latin name Artemisia annua) and lets the matter drop after the one-paragraph teaser.

Next up: A little Wodehouse for the holidays, with a trip to Blandings Castle in Summer Lightning , available only in the compilation Life at Blandings.