
Roberts has produced a compelling sketch of Conway both as a highly creative mathematician and as an individual, and somehow also managed to make the fascination of (more or less pure!) mathematics palpable for the layperson. Through their (Roberts and Conway’s) often humorous interactions, we gain a small window into Conway’s background, work ethic, habits, mindset, and struggles (alongside refreshing hints of how at least some of his image was consciously constructed), all of which the academic in me would love to draw some lessons from.
Bonus neuroscience content: Towards the end of the book, they pay a visit to Sandra Witelson, the neuroscientist who has made it her mission to study the brains of individuals thought to have remarkable minds. I am only very loosely acquainted with her work, so I may just be missing the complete picture, but I found myself nodding along to the more skeptical stance of neuroscience-layman Conway in response to some of her thoughts and methods, such as when she said, “I have people asking me whether Einstein’s brain got to be the way it is because he did so much physics. And of course I think it is the other way around. I think he did so much physics because his brain had a certain anatomy.”
I doubt her narrative, but that is far from the point of the book, so I’ll leave it at that. Suffice it to say that I don’t think that her fMRI studies of Conway will produce any meaningful insights into his creative ingenuity.
I took a lot of additional pleasure in the vivid scenes of his life in Cambridge (between the 50s and the 80s), both in the sense of its historical insights, as well as that reminiscent delight of tracing a historical narrative in a physical place that one is (at least slightly) familiar with.
I really enjoyed this trip, and look forward to further encounters with mathematical ideas and concepts (and personalities). (Interestingly, the “beauty and truth” of mathematics, as propagated here, conveniently show the seduction with which certain pockets of theoretical physics may have gotten lost in math.)
Genuis at play: The curious mind of John Horton Conway (Siobhan Roberts)

“Upend the rain stick and what happens next
This book is an easy read, it contains some good ideas and potential information, and it provides some food for thought with regard to its main topic, so I’m not about to advise anyone against checking it out just based on the quibbles that I may have had (some of which may be due to decisions by the publisher/editor to oversimplify some of the content and clearly aim for a pop science flavour to it).
For outsiders, a lot of neuroscience research can feel like it’s only interesting as foundational/basic research, while the interpretation of social neuroscience, which is presented as being more relevant, can be really frustrating (such as when meaning is assigned to the “activation” of a certain brain area based on what these areas have been linked to in the past — which isn’t appropriate!). The research presented in this book provides a good accessible example of the complementary value of neuroscience research in providing support for a theory that is relevant to our understanding of how we think and feel in our everyday lives.
A lot has already been said about this classic. I would just like to recommend two videos by the
Paul Ellis provides a very accessible introduction to several basic topics that are vital to good research practice. In order to encourage readers who enjoyed this book to dive deeper into the literature, I feel the need to point out that the content is slightly out of date on several counts; two points that immediately come to mind are (1) the non-critical presentation (or even the outright recommendation?) of the flawed “fail-safe N” method (see Becker, 2005; Ioannidis, 2008; Sutton, 2009; Ferguson & Heene, 2012 for criticisms, or
I had never heard of Alexander von Humboldt prior to my arrival in Berlin (in 2010), but several years of calling this city my home (as well as employment at the university named after him and his brother) have ensured an accumulation of facts associated with his name, facts that were but a superficial nod of acknowledgement now that I have had the pleasure of learning about his tremendous dedication to his craft, his progressive beliefs and insights, and, possibly most eye-opening to me, his enormous influence on both contemporary and following generations of scientists, thinkers, and poets. (One of my favourite chapters covers this aspect from the perspective of Charles Darwin.) There were moments when I found myself questioning whether the author may have been overstating her case, but she ultimately presented more than enough evidence to satisfy my personal hesitation. I don’t know whether there is a comparable biography of Alexander von Humboldt out there, but I’m truly glad that Andrea Wulf decided to dedicate herself to the exposure of this story at this point of time.
Dienes provides an introduction to some foundational topics that are sorely missing from the typical Psychology degree programme — the philosophy of science (from several different perspectives) and a conceptual comparison of three main methods of statistical inference: the frequentist, Bayesian, and likelihood approaches. The book could have benefited from a more meticulous editor, but Dienes’s writing is, for the most part, clear and insightful, and he provides very useful suggestions for further reading.