My mention of simultaneous equations in a recent post caused Avus to groan, adding it wasn’t his subject at school. I sympathise. Also, I know full well such references lay me open to charges of showing off and poncy-ness.
Maths wasn’t my subject at school either. An essay I wrote on my preferred career admitted to journalism because it was distant from that old bromide about life being based on mathematics. Apart from the previously mentioned “techno-epiphany” my interest in maths developed much later. And even then I have added little in the way of technical competence.
No great mystery. I see maths – utterly unoriginally – as a language. As such it’s quite stunted. Beware those who talk flossily about its beauty (unless they’re Paul Dirac and he’s entitled): they’re usually poseurs. Maths is a language stripped of nuance and would be a poor basis for a poem. It’s far too clear. Lack of immediate clarity is often at the heart of great poetry.
On the other hand, clarity can taste like chilled sauvignon blanc. It’s sharp and it engages your senses. Take the social device: “How are you?” It’s not at all clear. It could mean: “I’m saying this because I’m passing you in the street.” Or (among Brits): “Don’t for goodness sake tell me about your aches and pains.” If it could be expressed mathematically we could ensure it meant, quite specifically: “I’m getting in first with this meaningless formulation because I’ve forgotten your name.”
Maths wasn’t my subject at school either. An essay I wrote on my preferred career admitted to journalism because it was distant from that old bromide about life being based on mathematics. Apart from the previously mentioned “techno-epiphany” my interest in maths developed much later. And even then I have added little in the way of technical competence.
No great mystery. I see maths – utterly unoriginally – as a language. As such it’s quite stunted. Beware those who talk flossily about its beauty (unless they’re Paul Dirac and he’s entitled): they’re usually poseurs. Maths is a language stripped of nuance and would be a poor basis for a poem. It’s far too clear. Lack of immediate clarity is often at the heart of great poetry.
On the other hand, clarity can taste like chilled sauvignon blanc. It’s sharp and it engages your senses. Take the social device: “How are you?” It’s not at all clear. It could mean: “I’m saying this because I’m passing you in the street.” Or (among Brits): “Don’t for goodness sake tell me about your aches and pains.” If it could be expressed mathematically we could ensure it meant, quite specifically: “I’m getting in first with this meaningless formulation because I’ve forgotten your name.”
Not a kinder world but an unambiguous one. There is no other meaning to “One over two-pi root el-cee, is the resonant frequency.” And I hope everyone’s thankful for that.
