Mark Eberhart doesn't just want to know how things break, but why. That may seem like a subtle distinction, but it has a lot to do with the difference between finely tuned empiricism and true design control. In the modern world, where we expect our materials to perform more and more rigorous tasks for us (in airplane and spaceship hulls, performance sports equipment, and high-tech devices, for example), we really need predictive knowledge of substances.
Eberhart was captivated by materials science and fracture mechanics from an early age, although he didn't know these words for many years. He followed a path into science, always unifying his intellectual interests with personal pursuits. His book, Why Things Break, is part memoir and part science lesson, wrapped up in the evolving history of the field of fracture mechanics.
The scientific parts make for great reading. Eberhart has a flair for metaphor, and easily describes aspects of condensed matter physics, chemistry, and materials engineering in an understandable but scientifically rigorous way. He does not sacrifice correctness for simplicity-- the mark of a talented science popularizer.
It is therefore unfortunate that the more personal parts of the book are such a distraction. Normally it is pleasant to include a touch of the human in science books because they sorely need it. And some of Eberhart's interludes are enjoyable and enhance the book. But too many of them are simply arrogant and have no place in a book meant to encourage interest in science. Eberhart's ego is quite large-- why is it that people from MIT never say, "when I was in college/grad school," but rather, "when I was at MIT"? You will get tired of Eberhart's constant references to the greatness of his teachers, the greatness of MIT, the greatness of the pioneers of fracture mechanics (many of whom went on to win the Nobel Prize, did you know?).
Also, Eberhart sadly shows the disdain that many scientists secretly harbor for non-scientists. He does not miss prime chances to laugh at those with faulty reasoning, to insult the common viewpoint of things, and to point out that a tiniest bit of science knowledge can save a person from lifelong stupidity. He probably thinks that going to MIT would improve most people, too. You can decide whether you agree after you read the book.
Eberhart does not even seem to realize that a non-scientist is hardly going to be inspired to learn science if it is associated with a disdain for all else in the world. The arrogance of science does not lead people toward it, but away from it. Eberhart should have taken a few lessons from Carl Sagan, who could make people feel smarter, not dumber.
And so Why Things Break is really an appropriate book only for other scientists, or for those non-scientists who already know that people like Eberhart have big egos and can take it in stride. The book gets a "strong 0."
Copyright © Kim Allen 2004
