The Man who Knew Too Much (Initial Impression)
Upon perusing the local public library new arrivals last night, I happened upon The Man Who Knew Too Much: Alan Turing and the Invention of the Computer (published in 2006) by David Leavitt.
My knowledge of computer history (especially the colorful back-stories) is woefully inadequate, possibly due to a "state school" education (as Mr. Nilges describes it), or more likely due to the fact that I snoozed through a good part of said education, or maybe because I spent too much of my discretionary reading hours consuming fluff. So I snapped it up, conspiratorially celebrating the good find, like a shark's tooth amid a pile of landscaping gravel. In the spirit of agile reading, I offer some initial reactions after just the first couple of chapters. I hope to add additional comments later, and provoke some from d.* readers.
Turing is described as, "the English mathematician, inventor of the modern computer, and architect of the machine that broke the German Enigma code during the World War II."
Leavitt depicts the man more vividly in descriptions like this:
"Within the daunting morass of Greek and German letters, logic symbols, and mathematical formulae that enwebbed the pages of his papers, there lay the prose of a speculative and philosophical writer who thought nothing of asking whether a computer could enjoy strawberries and cream..."
The author praises Turing's contributions without reservation:
"Alan Turing bridged the gap between the delightfully useless and (for most people) remote landscape of pure mathematics and the factory world of industry in which the ability of a machine to multiply together giant prime numbers, or go through tens of thousands of possible letter substitutions in search of a match, or assist in the engineering of a bridge, meant the difference between financial success and failure, and in some cases between life and death."
Yet, his brilliance is contrasted by a personal life that can be described as 'troubled':
"As an alternative to a prison sentence, he was forced to endure a humiliating course of estrogen injections intended to 'cure' him [of homosexuality]. Finally, in 1954, he committed suicide by biting into an apple dipped in cyanide—an apparent nod to the poisoned apple in one of his favorite films, the Disney version of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs."
In the final chapter (yes, I cheated), Leavitt describes a letter Turing had written some years prior, proposing a suicide method that "involved an apple and electric wiring." He habitually ate an apple every night and reportedly in college often chanted in the halls:
Dip the apple in the brew,
Let the sleeping death seep through...
When I relayed this oddity to my husband, he immediately suggested a connection with Apple Computers. Leavitt says that Internet rumors have also speculated that the logo was a "nod to Turing," but the company denies it, saying the apple alludes to Newton.
Did Turing purposefully orchestrate a "grand exit" that would be fodder for amateur research papers for years to come? (The apple—the symbolic fruit of knowledge that was poisoned by the intolerance of society?) Or do complex, intricate webs of logic make for great scientific discovery, but poor company alone at night in the dark?
The Test of Truth
If I am totally honest, after my last experience posting about a book (What the Dormouse Said), I was waiting to see if d.*s might chime in on the author's credibility or the accuracy of the biography, letting me know whether it was worth the time to finish. I am terrible about polygomous (or maybe I should say 'parallel') reading. I've also been enjoying Alan Alda's autobiography, Never Have Your Dog Stuffed and Other Things I've Learned. You can imagine I might be looking for a way to tie that to software development. An interesting coincidence though...remember I posted about Gershwin and the classic film, Rhapsody in Blue recently? It was Alan Alda's father playing the lead role of George Gershwin. I didn't make the connection at the time.
But yes, I believe I will finish the book and post again. My father was a psychiatrist, so I've certainly heard some bizarre stories in my time. Of course I am convinced we're all a little peculiar in one way or another. But a few are also very gifted.
Yes, Please, More on Turing
Hi, Donna. I agree that I'd like to hear more. I am especially interested in hearing more about what social pressures he was placed under and how those limited his potential--if indeed the book opines on that topic or offers that point of view.
I recall seeing a documentary last year, on the Sundance Channel I think it was, that was specifically about Turing's being gay, and how the oppressive mores of that time thwarted his potential to contribute even more than he did. (I searched around to try to find this documentary, and I'd like to see it again. If someone knows of it, please post the info here.)
The barbaric idea that Turing "had" something that needed to be "cured" through forced drug therapy is an indication of what he must have gone through as a person, and I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt in regard to his having committed suicide or anything else.
Best,
Dan
Truth is Stranger...
How bizarre, Donna! I'd love to read more--will you keep us in suspense or post another summary? A propos (or not) of this, I was just thinking last night about the thin line that can divide self-actualized focus on one's dreams and distorted behavior. Not to judge him as bizarre, but the story of the director of "V is for Vendetta" was what caused me to think that. He did the Matrix trilogy, but his identity has become increasingly retooled and he may have switched gender and entered a bit of the underground world of S&M--there was an article about it in Rolling Stone. Anyway, that's perhaps far afield of this forum but any of us who have worked with scientists know how the personal and political issues can rival those of a kindergarten playground.