A number of years ago, Harriet Sheridan, then Dean of Brown University, organized a series oflectures in which individual faculty members described how it came about that they entered their various fields. I was invited to participate in this series and found in the invitation an opportunity to recall events going back to my early teens. The lecture was well received and its reception encouraged me to work up an expanded version. My manuscript lay dormant all these years. In the meanwhile, sufficiently many other mathematical experiences and encounters accumulated to make this little book. My 1981 lecture is the basis of the first piece: "Napoleon's Theorem. " Although there is a connection between the first piece and the second, the four pieces here are essentially independent. The sec ond piece, "Carpenter and the Napoleon Ascription," has as its object a full description of a certain type of scholar-storyteller (of whom I have known and admired several). It is a pastiche, contain ing a salad bar selection blended together by my own imagination. This piece purports, as a secondary goal, to present a solution to a certain unsolved historical problem raised in the first piece. The third piece, "The Man Who Began His Lectures with 'Namely'," is a short reminiscence of Stefan Bergman, one of my teachers of graduate mathematics. Bergman, a remarkable person ality, was born in Poland and came to the United States in 1939."

"Ah, I'm Pingree. We meet again. Splendid. Won't you sit down?" I looked around David's room. Short of the library stacks, I had never seen so many books piled into a single room. Where could I sit down? Every square inch of horizontal surface was covered. Books, papers, notes, manuscripts-all congregated in random and chaotic disorder. This small encounter and the snapshot of the protagonist on the cover of this book introduce the reader to David E. Pingree, the eminent classicist, Orientalist, historian of ancient science, and member of the Department of the History of Mathematics at Brown University. This is a book of his stories, retold by Phil Davis, award-winning author and raconteur par excellence, who reconstructs them from letters and many conversations with his friend Pingree. The stories trace connections between ancient characters, historical and mythical, and recreate a world in which the pursuit of knowledge for its own sake leads to unexpected pleasures and associations. They capture a world best described by Saul Lieberman's quip about Gershom Scholem's great work on the Kabala: "Trash is trash; but the study of trash is scholarship," and David Pingree's imagined response, "Yes, but there's always something of value to be learned." The book is dedicated to preserving and promoting the specialized knowledge and thoughts of David Pingree, a truly remarkable person and to inspire readers to follow academic tradition and at the same time explore unusual connections.

"Ah, I m Pingree. We meet again. Splendid. Won t you sit down?"
I looked around David s room. Short of the library stacks, I had never seen so many books piled into a single room. Where could I sit down? Every square inch of horizontal surface was covered. Books, papers, notes, manuscripts all congregated in random and chaotic disorder.

This small encounter and the snapshot of the protagonist on the cover of this book introduce the reader to David E. Pingree, the eminent classicist, Orientalist, historian of ancient science, and member of the Department of the History of Mathematics at Brown University. This is a book of his stories, retold by Phil Davis, award-winning author and raconteur par excellence, who reconstructs them from letters and many conversations with his friend Pingree.

The stories trace connections between ancient characters, historical and mythical, and recreate a world in which the pursuit of knowledge for its own sake leads to unexpected pleasures and associations. They capture a world best described by Saul Lieberman s quip about Gershom Scholem s great work on the Kabala: "Trash is trash; but the study of trash is scholarship," and David Pingree s imagined response, "Yes, but there s always something of value to be learned."

The book is dedicated to preserving and promoting the specialized knowledge and thoughts of David Pingree, a truly remarkable person and to inspire readers to follow academic tradition and at the same time explore unusual connections.

Mathematics has long suffered in the public eye through portrayals of mathematicians as socially inept geniuses devoted to an arcane discipline. In this book, Philip J. Davis addresses this image through a question-and-answer dialogue that lays to rest many of the misnomers and misunderstandings of mathematical study. He answers these questions and more: What is Mathematics? Why is mathematics difficult, and why do I spontaneously react negatively when I hear the word? Davis demonstrates how mathematics surrounds, imbues, and maintains our everyday lives: the digitization and automation of processes like pumping gas, withdrawing cash, and buying groceries are all fueled by mathematics. He takes the reader through a point-by-point explanation of many frequently asked questions about mathematics, gently introducing this Handmaiden of Science and telling you everything you've ever wanted to know about her.

A number of years ago, Harriet Sheridan, then Dean of Brown University, organized a series oflectures in which individual faculty members described how it came about that they entered their various fields. I was invited to participate in this series and found in the invitation an opportunity to recall events going back to my early teens. The lecture was well received and its reception encouraged me to work up an expanded version. My manuscript lay dormant all these years. In the meanwhile, sufficiently many other mathematical experiences and encounters accumulated to make this little book. My 1981 lecture is the basis of the first piece: "Napoleon's Theorem. " Although there is a connection between the first piece and the second, the four pieces here are essentially independent. The sec ond piece, "Carpenter and the Napoleon Ascription," has as its object a full description of a certain type of scholar-storyteller (of whom I have known and admired several). It is a pastiche, contain ing a salad bar selection blended together by my own imagination. This piece purports, as a secondary goal, to present a solution to a certain unsolved historical problem raised in the first piece. The third piece, "The Man Who Began His Lectures with 'Namely'," is a short reminiscence of Stefan Bergman, one of my teachers of graduate mathematics. Bergman, a remarkable person ality, was born in Poland and came to the United States in 1939."

A sequel to the widely successful Thomas Gray, Philosopher Cat, Philip J. Davis' latest continues the adventures of the internationally popular feline and friend. Could it be that Hans Christian Andersen - who wrote so lovingly of inchworms and ugly ducklings - was an unrepentant despiser of cats? That's the rumor that the philosophical feline, Thomas Gray, and cohort, Cambridge don Lucas Fysst, (whose last name doesn't rhyme with "fist") are determined to snuff out. In Copenhagen to attend a philosophers' convention, they go on the hunt for a missing Andersen manuscript that will set the record straight. A whimsically written and illustrated tale - part history, part parody, and all fun. Davis is Professor Emeritus of Applied Mathematics at Brown University and author of No Way: Essays on the Impossible.