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352 pages, Hardcover
First published September 27, 2016
Why is it so difficult—so degradingly difficult—to bring the notion of Time into mental focus and keep it there for inspection? What an effort, what fumbling, what irritating fatigue! —Vladimir Nabokov (1969)Time is a funny thing, everyone knows what it is and no one can (easily) explain it. But that doesn't stop Gleick from taking a crack at it. Marshaling the collective resources of literature, science, philosophy, cultural anthropology, and religion he walks us down the many side streets and cul-de-sacs of this essential and mysterious...thing.
Nowadays we voyage through time so easily and so well, in our dreams and in our art. Time travel feels like an ancient tradition, rooted in old mythologies, old as gods and dragons. It isn’t. Though the ancients imagined immortality and rebirth and lands of the dead time machines were beyond their ken. Time travel is a fantasy of the modern era. When Wells in his lamp-lit room imagined a time machine, he also invented a new mode of thought.Strange to think such a pervasive idea in modern culture is so relatively young. Gleick walks the reader through some other noteworthy time travel stories and speaks about its place in the literary and popular culture landscape.
"People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually — from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint — it's more like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly... timey-wimey... stuff."It is a difficult concept to grasp because it is so fundamental to the human experience. Physics might offer some keys but its conception of time may no job with how we experience it:
Perceiving all the present, an omniscient observer would likewise perceive all the past and all the inevitable future at the same time. Indeed, present and past and future would be without meaning to such an observer: he would always perceive exactly the same thing. He would see, as it were, a Rigid Universe filling space and time—a Universe in which things were always the same.That, itself, leads into the question of free will and the nature of God:
For God outside of time, God in eternity, time does not pass; events do not occur step by step; cause and effect are meaningless. He is not one-thing-after-another, but all-at-once. His “now” encompasses all time. Creation is a tapestry, or an Einsteinian block universe. Either way, one might believe that God sees it entire. For Him, the story does not have a beginning, middle, and end. But if you believe in an interventionist god, what does that leave for him to do? A changeless being is hard for us mortals to imagine. Does he act? Does he even think? Without sequential time, thought—a process—is hard to imagine. Consciousness requires time, it seems. It requires being in time.Heavy stuff, let me tell you.
The language forces this upon us. Who was the first person to say that time “passes” or time “flows”? We are seldom conscious of the effect of language on our choice of metaphors, the effect of our metaphors on our sense of reality. Usually we give the words no thought at all. When we do, we may well wonder what we’re really saying...The history and study of time is both mind bending, confusing, and fascinating. We take so much for granted when it comes to time, but the way to influences us, both in the physical sense and in the cultural sense, is rather neat. Gleick does a very good job of synthesizing these disparate ideas into a comprehensible set of chapters while providing a near overwhelming set of quotes and sources to augment the discussion. While it can get a bit dry at times, the exploration of time and time travel is as rewarding as it is profound.
Other cultures have different geometries. Aymara speakers, in the Andes, point forward (where they can see) when talking about the past and gesture behind their backs when talking about the future...
The cognitive scientist Lera Boroditsky, a student of spatiotemporal metaphors and conceptual schemas, notes that some Australian aboriginal communities orient themselves by cardinal direction (north, south, east, west) rather than relative direction (left, right) and think of time as running east to west. (They have a strongly developed sense of direction, compared to more urban and indoor cultures.) Mandarin speakers often use vertical metaphors for time: 上 (shàng) means both above and earlier; 下 (xià) means below and next.
the universe rigid is a prison. only the time traveller can call himself free.
Time travel feels like an ancient tradition, rooted in old mythologies, old as gods and dragons. It isn't. Though the ancients imagined immortality and rebirth and lands of the dead, time machines were beyond their ken. Time travel is a fantasy of the modern era. When Wells in his lamp-lit room imagined a time machine, he also invented a new mode of thought.
We have a tendency to take our words too seriously, which happens (paradoxically) when we are unconscious of them. Language offers a woefully meager set of choices for expressing what we need to express. Consider this sentence: “I haven't seen you for a [?] time.” Must the missing word be long? Then time is like a line or a distance – a measurable space. The language forces this upon us. Who was the first person to say that time “passes” or time “flows”? We are seldom conscious of the effect of language on our choice of metaphors, the effect of our metaphors on our sense of reality.
Words represent things but the words are not the things. Fatalism is a philosophy built out of words, and ultimately its conclusions apply to words – not necessarily to reality.
Physicists have developed a love-hate relationship with the problem of the self. On the one hand it's none of their business – leave it to the (mere) psychologists. On the other hand, trying to extricate the observer – the measurer, the accumulator of information – from the cool description of nature has turned out to be impossible. Our consciousness is not some magical onlooker; it is a part of the universe it tries to contemplate.
The mind is what we experience most immediately and what does the experiencing. It is subject to the arrow of time. It creates memories as it goes. It models the world and continually compares these models to their predecessors. Whatever consciousness will turn out to be, it's not a moving flashlight illuminating successive slices of the four-dimensional space-time continuum. It is a dynamic system, occurring in time, evolving in time, able to absorb bits of information from the past and process them, and able as well to create anticipation for the future.