Physics and I just don't get along

I've been reading a book called A Short History of Nearly Everything. When I found out about this book, I thought, "I would like to learn about nearly everything. Seems like a good use of my time." It turns out, though, that they left one important word out of the title: Science.

Science has not been fun since about fifth grade. My science educational path has been littered with characters from the boring (the man whose biology teaching position was merely a placeholder for his career as a track coach), to the creepy (the teacher who was rumored to have once made girls do pushups so he could look down their shirts), to the hopelessly unhelpful (the horse-faced teacher who was convinced we could learn physics from our textbooks, videos, and lab work, and refused to answer any questions). All I remember from my college gen ed science class is that once the professor dressed up like Gregor Mendel, and once he brought in floaty pool noodles as his "dancing chromosomes." His techniques worked to some extent, because I know who Gregor Mendel is (a scientist/monk who was the father of genetics), but I don't remember what a chromosome does. Apparently they dance.

So, now that you know the state of the relationship between me and Mr. Science, let me tell you that I loved this book.

Partly it's the writing; the author is British and I am a sucker for British diction. Partly it's that he actually writes so things are halfway understandable. But it's just so interesting to read about what scientists know, and how they know it.

Things I learned from this book:

• The moon is bigger than Pluto.
• Einstein did basically nothing during the second half of his career. He tried to come up with a Grand Unified Theory of physics, and failed.
• Not only is Yellowstone is a supervolcano that if it ever erupted, we would all die here in Utah (already knew that), but it is the only supervolcano in the middle of a continent, and they don't know why it's here or if it will ever erupt again (fingers crossed). Also, the earth's crust is slowly moving, so the hot spot that is Yellowstone used to be elsewhere in Wyoming, and in another couple million years, it will be in another place entirely.
• Our bodies, and every other surface in the world, are covered in millions of microscopic organisms, bacteria, fungi, mites, etc. The thought makes me want to shower very thoroughly several times a day.
• Our bodies can't live without water (we're what, 80% water?) but it's components, oxygen and hydrogen, are both explosive. Also, why we can't drink salt water (it causes severe dehydration and kidney failure; our bodies can't metabolize that much salt).

The book lost me, though, in the chapters about particle physics. Listen:

"In at attempt to draw everything together, physicists have come up with something called superstring theory. This postulates that all those little things like quarks and leptons that we had previously thought of as particles are actually "strings"--vibrating strands of energy that oscillate in eleven dimensions, consisting of the three we know already plus time and seven other dimensions that are, well, unknowable to us."

What? If these dimensions are unknowable, how can we know they exist? And why eleven? Why not eleventy million? If they are unknowable, one number is much like another, at least to me. I'm in total agreement with the author: "Anything scientists say about superstring theory begins to sound worryingly like the sort of thoughts that would make you edge away if conveyed to you by a stranger on a park bench."

So, particle physics aside, I feel like Mr. Science and I can be dinner-party friends.We'll meet occasionally, enjoy each other's company, and have interesting stories to tell each other.

Nathan would also recommend this book: it has wicked cool pictures.