GIGO

Recreational Reading

Our tiny local library has an interesting idea of the pleasures of reading. I wandered in the other day and asked where I might find the science section.

"Oh, we don't have a science section here," said the lady behind the counter. "This library is for recreational reading."

What can you say to that? Once, science issues were a matter of strong public interest, debate and, on occasion, fisticuffs. Now they seem to be relegated to the "read only for reference" section.

When Darwin's Origin of Species was published in 1859, all 1,200 copies of the first printing were sold the first day. The work became a subject for newspaper cartoonists, Sunday sermons and parlour conversation. A hundred years ago, scientific monographs were everyday reading matter for the educated populace.

These days, with the greater role science and technology plays in our lives, and with greater exposure to scientific concepts at school, one would think that recreational science reading would have come into its own.

Not so, apparently. Why is this?

Perhaps few of us feel a direct connection with the world of science, little concern for the "irrelevancies" of laser physics, semiconductor electronics or organic chemistry. Yet play a CD, use a microwave oven, or even mix a martini, and you're interacting with the world of science and technology.

An enduring childhood memory I have is of sitting in the comfortable darkness of the Auckland Museum's planetarium, learning about the stars and having fun in the process. I wasn't dragged there on obligatory school trips, but went regularly with my family for fun. I hope the planetarium's planned resiting at the Auckland Observatory will be well supported so that others may learn of the recreational possibilities of that science.

The discounting of science as a recreation may stem from the perceived difficulties of taking an amateur interest. Amateur astronomers abound, but there aren't many amateur mathematicians or microbiologists. Perhaps recreational astronomers have the advantage of being able to make a mark in their "sporting" science. Variable star observations and comet spotting by backyard enthusiasts have a long and honourable history in this country. Amateur geologists have something to contribute, too -- see the Spotlight feature in this issue for an example of that.

Or perhaps it's a measure of the way in which we compartmentalise our lives. Investigating the denizens of a rock pool is seen as something one does only at school, or if one is a marine biologist. There seems to be little middle ground, little encouragement of the pleasure of learning something about "why the world wags and what wags it".

To continue Merlyn's quote, learning "is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust and never dream of regretting".

That's something everyone -- librarians included -- should know.

Vicki Hyde is the editor of New Zealand Science Monthly.