To write a book to explain in simple, non-mathematical terms what superstring theory is is not a simple task. In The Elegant Universe Brian Greene, a physicist who works in the area, does a very good job. Superstrings are a theory of particle physics that lays claim to being the ultimate "Theory of Everything", merging Einstein's relativity and quantum mechanics into an understanding of the physics of the very small and very large in the Universe. Hence to understand superstrings relativity, quantum mechanics have to be explained as well. In this Brian Greene does a very good job, giving one of the best explanations of relativity I have read in the process. Superstring theory is still very much in its infancy and The Elegant Universe does not claim that all the problems have been solved, in fact a point is made of pointing out all the present deficiencies of the theory.

Probably not a book for the very beginner but anyone who has read popular accounts of particle physics and relativity should gain a lot from reading this book. In places not an easy read, not for style reasons(which was generally very easy) but simply for the difficulty of some of the concepts involved. Superstring theory may or may not be the theory of everything but this book will certainly tell you what we think we know so far. Definitely recommended but don't expect to read it in a weekend. —Simon Goodwin

Part history book and part remedial physics text for those who lost interest when the equations started getting unintuitive, In Search of Schrödinger's Cat explains quantum physics in a way that's not only clear, but also enjoyable.

Gribbin opens with the subjects that most physics professors have just started to examine by the end of term: the mysterious character of light; the valence concept in Nils Bohr's atomic model; radioactive decay; and the physics of life-defining DNA all get clear, comprehensive and witty coverage. This book reveals the beauty and mystery that underlies everything in the universe.

Does this book claim to explain quantum physics without maths? No. Maths is too central to physics to be bypassed. But if you can do basic algebra, you can understand the equations in In Search of Schrödinger's Cat. Gribbin is the physics teacher everyone should have in high school or college: kind without being a pushover, knowledgeable without being condescending, and clearly expressive without being boring. Gribbin's book belongs on the shelf of every pre-calculus student. It also deserves a place in the library of everyone who was scared away from advanced physics prematurely.

Part history book and part remedial physics text for those who lost interest when the equations started getting unintuitive, In Search of Schrödinger's Cat explains quantum physics in a way that's not only clear, but also enjoyable.

Gribbin opens with the subjects that most physics professors have just started to examine by the end of term: the mysterious character of light; the valence concept in Nils Bohr's atomic model; radioactive decay; and the physics of life-defining DNA all get clear, comprehensive and witty coverage. This book reveals the beauty and mystery that underlies everything in the universe.

Does this book claim to explain quantum physics without maths? No. Maths is too central to physics to be bypassed. But if you can do basic algebra, you can understand the equations in In Search of Schrödinger's Cat. Gribbin is the physics teacher everyone should have in high school or college: kind without being a pushover, knowledgeable without being condescending, and clearly expressive without being boring. Gribbin's book belongs on the shelf of every pre-calculus student. It also deserves a place in the library of everyone who was scared away from advanced physics prematurely.

Another high-energy cyberpunk romp set in the alternative future of Jon Courtenay Grimwood's previous novel reMix. Here he pushes gore and mutilation to almost farcical extremes, with medical nanotechnology meaning that ghastly injuries aren't for keeps—one character loses both eyes but is soon painfully seeing again, if only in black and white. The back-story: Pope Joan looted the Vatican's riches for good causes before her assassination, and now the powerful, corrupt Cardinal of Mexico hopes to claw back the money. A top-class though emotionally wrecked professional killer becomes his emissary, hunting Joan's legacy on Samsara, the vast space habitat and prayer wheel which the Dalai Lama and a Buddhist-pacifist AI have established as the UN dumping-ground for all the world's refugees. Other characters include Pope Joan's former lover, a chatty AI built into an advanced handgun, a Japanese child prostitute into whom some remnant of Joan has been downloaded, an illegal warrior clone, and a bunch of military "PaxForce" heavies whose sadistic female leaders defMoma and momaDef provide more tasty torture scenes and weird capitaLisation. Grimwood drives his story at unrelenting speed, with bursts of extreme violence disguising the less logical leaps, while literal background music plays in the wired-up assassin's head. Dizzying, gruesome and slightly tongue-in-cheek action. —David Langford

Ashraf Bey is not who he seems—a rich Ottoman aristocrat to whom the Iskandryia of a rather different 21st century is more or less his oyster—nor is he simply what he thinks he is—a minor street criminal shipped off to North Africa when he fell foul of his employers. Accused yet again of murders he did not commit, he finds out on the run that he is better than he thinks he is—smarter and more capable and also someone whom people trust and love.

Set in a mildly different alternate world, Pashazade is a thriller with a solidly imagined mystery at its core; it is also a novel about a man finally and belatedly growing up. Ashraf's sense of responsibility for an orphaned girl and for the woman with whom he has refused an arranged marriage are part of what makes him admirable; he has learned the hard way not to treat people as disposable. The details of this alternate near future—an Arab world that remained Turkish after a 1914 war that never quite became important, and into which some slick cybertechnology and genetic gadgetry have slotted without changing anything fundamental—are effectively imagined, but never more important than the people. —Roz Kaveney

Effendi is as impressive as Pashazade, Jon Courtenay Grimwood's first novel of crime and punishment in an alternate-world Alexandria. Now the chief of police of El Iskandryia rather than a hunted fugitive seeking refuge there, the electronically and otherwise augmented Ashraf finds himself investigating both terror attacks against tourists and charges of long-ago crimes against humanity levelled against Hamzah, the man whose daughter he might have married. With the help of his equally odd and talented niece, the child Hani, Ashraf pursues his own unorthodox investigatory methods and his own social and political agendas; he is sympathetic neither to the elite who suck the blood of his city nor to the fanatics who seek to replace them. His and Grimwood's city is a place where past and future meet—where mediaeval barbarism and high-tech go hand in hand and every so often the reader is brought face to face with the ways in which this world is both the same as our own and radically different. Grimwood effortlessly plays by several sets of rules at once and is as accomplished a thriller writer—doing noir as well as he does courtrooms—as he is as a writer of his own, sometimes quite strange, brand of commercial SF. —Roz Kaveney

At first listen, the narration of this abridged version of John Grisham's The Chamber seems flat and uninvolved. But Michael Beck has chosen his vocal style well, purposely eschewing unnecessary adornment and allowing this searing indictment of racism and murder to unfold on its own terms. Beck uses character voices sparingly, adding subtle emphasis to the already charged plot. The story begins with a Klan-sponsored bombing and then traces a trail of rigged acquittals stretching over three decades, until a young lawyer with secrets of his own brings the case to a powerful conclusion. —George Laney Amazon.com

First published in 1971, Ursula Le Guin's SF novel The Lathe of Heaven combines a sheaf of future possibilities—including an early evocation of global warming—with a parable about wishes that has the terrible clarity of a fairytale.

The uncomfortably gifted George Orr is desperately drugging himself to avoid sleep, because he knows his dreams can change the world. Psychiatrist Dr Haber begins with good intentions of curing Orr, but when he finds he can shape Orr's "effective dreams" and force his own wishes into reality, the lure of power is too much. Though Haber believes he wants only to do good, he's also quick to upgrade himself from obscurity in a windowless office to Director of the prestigious Oregon Oneirological Institute.

During his flawed attempts to create an earthly paradise, we see that each sweeping change makes matters worse. Let's fix over-population: suddenly there's a new past in which humanity was almost destroyed by plague, billions of people are written out of existence, and Haber drinks a toast——"to a better world". Let's fix war: the hapless Orr's dreaming mind can only imagine and create a new threat that unites Earth against outside foes. Let's fix racism: the result is even more painful. As Orr broods:

The end justifies the means. But what if there never is an end? All we have is means.

In this mad round of poisoned wishes, it becomes necessary to stop. But power-crazed Haber refuses to stop....

Beautifully written, jolting in its moral force, The Lathe of Heaven is one of Le Guin's finest SF excursions. —David Langford

This book is about science fiction.

Ursula K. LeGuin follows her classic trilogy from Earthsea with a magical tale that won the 1991 Nebula Award for Science Fiction. Unlike the tales in the trilogy, this novel is short and concise, yet it is by no means simplistic. Promoted as a children's book because of the awards garnered in that category by her previous work, Tehanu transcends classification and shows the wizardry of female magic. The story involves a middle-age widow who sets out to visit her dying mentor and eventually cares for his favourite student.

The title The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time (or the curious incident of the dog in the night-time as it appears within the book) is an appropriate one for Mark Haddon's ingenious novel both because of its reference to that most obsessive and fact-obsessed of detectives, Sherlock Holmes, and because its lower-case letters indicate something important about its narrator.

Christopher is an intelligent youth who lives in the functional hinterland of autism—every day is an investigation for him because of all the aspects of human life that he does not quite get. When the dog next door is killed with a garden fork, Christopher becomes quietly persistent in his desire to find out what has happened and tugs away at the world around him until a lot of secrets unravel messily.

Haddon makes an intelligent stab at how it feels to, for example, not know how to read the faces of the people around you, to be perpetually spooked by certain colours and certain levels of noise, to hate being touched to the point of violent reaction. Life is difficult for the difficult and prickly Christopher in ways that he only partly understands; this avoids most of the obvious pitfalls of novels about disability because it demands that we respect—perhaps admire—him rather than pity him. —Roz Kaveney

Considering that the history of the Internet is perhaps better documented internally than any other technological construct, it is remarkable how shadowy its origins have been to most people, including die-hard Net-denizens!

At last, Hafner and Lyon have written a well-researched story of the origins of the Internet substantiated by extensive interviews with its creators who delve into many interesting details such as the controversy surrounding the adoption of our now beloved "@" sign as the separator of usernames and machine addresses. Essential reading for anyone interested in the past—and the future—of the Net specifically, and telecommunications generally.

With the incredible growth of the Internet in the 1990s and revolutions occurring almost daily, it is easy to overlook the origins of this cultural phenomenon. Katie Hafner and Matthew Lyon have captured the history of the Internet in this solid account. They explain the system's genesis as a device to link computer resources around the country—not to prepare communications for nuclear war strikes as is often thought—and how, as with many of us, e-mail was the application of choice for many users. It also tells of the story of the buttoned-up engineers who invented the Internet- -in contrast to the late-night hackers who pushed its evolution. In all, an interesting history about a medium that has fostered an aversion to the past.

"Today we're going to show you eight silent ways to kill a man." The first line of this 1974 sf war story still grabs hard: The Forever War, winner of both Hugo and Nebula awards, is a fine choice to launch Millennium's "SF Masterworks" series of classic reissues. Future soldier William Mandella's service in the interstellar "Forever War" chillingly echoes Vietnam, where Joe Haldeman was severely wounded and won the Purple Heart. Afterwards, many real-life veterans found themselves distanced and alienated from US society: thanks to starflight's time dislocations, Mandella returns from weeks or months of combat duty to an Earth which after centuries of change is no longer his home. Though armed with increasingly futuristic weaponry—laser fingers, nova bombs, stasis fields—the infantry still suffers the long agonising waits, the sudden flurry and horror of battle, the shock of loss in a futile war without glory or glamour. But there's still room for tenderness, and for a satisfying ending as the cruel equations of relativistic time finally work in Mandella's favour. Incidentally, this is the first full British edition. When The Forever War was serialised, the magazine editor vetoed one section; it was omitted from the 1974 novel and is now restored. Highly recommended. —David Langford

The term "space opera" has evolved over the decades. Originally it meant "hacky, grinding, stinking, outworn, spaceship yarn" (Wilson Tucker), but since then it has come to be (slightly) less pejorative, encompassing any sci-fi action story on an interplanetary or interstellar scale. The Reality Dysfunction rests firmly in the space- opera camp with its intense starship combat, roguish space captains and raw frontier planets, but Peter Hamilton keeps the formula fresh and up-to-date with an infusion of "modern" science fiction technology. His universe is digitally and nanotechnologically savvy, which opens up plenty of possibilities for new perils and plot twists.

It is the late 26th century and humanity's thriving culture spans 200 planets. The usual squabbles and disagreements continue, but generally everyone gets along and lives well as humanity's outward expansion continues apace. On newly colonized Lalonde, though, a strange force emerges from the jungle, lobotomizing people and turning them into super-powered soldiers. At the same time, the story of Joshua Calvert emerges. He's the young captain of a trading ship, who innocently travels to Lalonde and becomes embroiled in the mysteries there. Both threads have plenty of action and exotic scenery. Peter Hamilton's descriptive prose, particularly in action sequences, is breathtaking (and scientifically accurate), creating a dramatic backdrop for a story where the stakes keep getting higher, the villains keep growing more evil and the heroes keep surviving—but only just. Space-opera fans will enjoy this deftly written and engaging novel. Those who feel they don't like the genre might give this example a try to see just how unhacky, ungrinding, sweet-smelling, and robust it can be. —Brooks Peck

This is Hamilton's first collection of short stories (including one novella), set in the same universe as the bestselling Night's Dawn trilogy. Actually, as Hamilton himself admits, the original versions of these stories had nothing to do with Night's Dawn, but he has used the opportunity of this collection to tweak (or almost completely rewrite) all his earlier works and bring them in line. This process seems to affect most sci-fi novelists at some point in their careers and is probably a cathartic milestone in the transition from new sci-fi author to bestselling author.

The collection is chronological in sequence, starting with the early days when affinity is a cutting edge technology and taking the reader through it's rapid development as it forms a fundamental part of civilization. For die-hard enthusiasts of Night's Dawn, Escape Route tells the intriguing story of the last flight of Joshua Calvert's father and his spacecraft, Lady Macbeth. And the novella A Second Chance at Eden is Hamilton's attempt at revenge; apparently when he wrote his second novel A Quantum Murder, too many of his friends solved the mystery and identified the murderer—this time he throws down the gauntlet to stunning effect. For fans or novices, this collection offers a diverse selection, all under- pinned by Hamilton's attention to detail and skill in storytelling. —Dave Mutton

Peter F. Hamilton's Night's Dawn trilogy—The Reality Dysfunction, The Neutronium Alchemist and now The Naked God—is ambitious in its galaxy-wide, multiple viewpoint plot, its political and metaphysical subject-matter, its sheer three-thousand page scope. The damned have broken out of the afterlife and possessed whole planets; a gallant and untrustworthy space captain is haring off after alien sorts; and for the resurrected Al Capone, the secret masters of Earth and the government of the human Confederacy, it is business as usual... Hamilton's super-charged villain, Dexter Quinn, arrives on the home planet of humanity with a mission—to convert enough people to his Satanist creed that Earth can be taken out of the universe altogether; "Quinn raised an arm, his sleeve falling to reveal an albino hand with grizzled claw fingers. Three thin streamers of white fire lashed out from the talons, searingly bright in the gloomy, smoke-heavy air." The many fans of Hamilton's high-octane gloomy space opera will find this finale a worthy successor, and thrill to its many surprises; Hamilton's evocation of the depths of space and the strangeness of alien races has rightly won him much praise. A certain moral ambiguity has also crept in to what was at first a black and white universe—some of the returned damned are heroic and compassionate, and many of the living are not as nice as all that. —Roz Kaveney

The acclaimed Peter Hamilton's standalone SF adventure Fallen Dragon sees him taking a breather after the immense, galaxy-spanning Night's Dawn trilogy, with a tauter story of future skirmishing in a mere few solar systems.

Centuries hence, despite faster-than-light travel, human interstellar exploration is stagnating. There's not enough money in it for the vast controlling companies such as Zantiu-Braun, now reduced to extracting profits via "asset realisation"—plundering established colonies that can't withstand Earth's superior weapons tech.

Lawrence Newton's childhood dreams were all about space exploration. Now he's just another Z-B squaddie, trained to use the feared, half-alive "Skin" combat biosuits, which offer super-muscles, armour and massive firepower, all queasily hooked into the wearer's bloodstream and nervous system. Commanding a platoon in Z-B's raid on planet Thallspring, Lawrence has secret plans to make off with a rumoured alien treasure.

But Thallspring resistance is unexpectedly tough, thanks to locals such as Denise Ebourn who have mysterious access to neuro-electronic subversion gear far subtler and perhaps more dangerous than Skin. Meanwhile, how fictional are the stories Denise tells her school pupils, about a fabled Empire that ruled our galaxy for a million years before becoming... something else?

Hamilton excels at violent action, but not with the dreadful simplicity of space opera. Despite his role in the explosive Thallspring situation, Lawrence genuinely hopes to avoid bloodshed—while Denise's lofty idealism results in chilling atrocities, and even Z-B may be less cruel and monolithic than it seems.

A breakneck interstellar chase leads to a satisfying finale and an unexpected romantic twist. This is solid, meaty SF entertainment. —David Langford

Peter Hamilton is famed for SF blockbusters of far-future interstellar adventure. By contrast Misspent Youth is a social comedy set in the year 2040 in England. When gene therapy rewinds Jeff Baker's age back to his early 20s he finds that wisdom and experience are no match for hormones...

The rejuvenation treatment, developed by federal Europe to impress laggard America, is so complex and expensive that only one person every 18 months can receive it. Jeff is the first because he's a celebrity inventor, father of the "datasphere" which superseded the Internet.

Family upheavals follow. An "arrangement" with his much younger, still beautiful wife Sue lets her enjoy lovers while the aged Jeff turns a blind eye: now things are different. Meanwhile their 18-year-old son Tim is struggling ineptly with teenage sexual pangs and the impossibility of understanding girls. All part of growing up, but Jeff's renewed youth brings farcical complications.

It's not just that Jeff now fancies Sue again. He can't resist even younger women. An early one-night stand is publicised all over the datasphere. Embarrassment escalates when he's seduced by the granddaughter of a long-time pub companion. Worse, several of Tim's ravishing female schoolmates are interested in Jeff the celebrity stud. The dishiest of all is Tim's latest, most hopelessly adoring girlfriend.

Can it be coincidence that the action mostly happens in Rutland?

This comedy of embarrassments and revelations has a darker background: Europe is plagued by separatist movements whose terrorist habits make the old IRA look like pussycats. The turning point in Jeff's tangled relationships comes when he attends a London conference surrounded by protest that breeds riot—with Tim among the protesters.

A foreshadowed twist leads to a finale that mixes cynicism with sentiment. En route Misspent Youth is a lot of fun. —David Langford