How not to be dull

Academic texts can be deadly boring. A recent book on supernovae is anything but. LAUREN FUGE reports.

TEXTBOOKS PLAY A vital role in educational and professional development, but let’s face it – some are just plain dull. Distilling immensely complicated information into an engaging, readable format is a challenge requiring extensive knowledge and organisation, which often leaves little room for creative flair.

But some textbook authors rise to this challenge.

Recently, two astronomers – J Craig Wheeler from the University of Austin, Texas, and David Branch from the University of Oklahoma – won the 2019 Chambliss Astronomical Writing Award for their book Supernova Explosions (Springer).

It’s the first detailed overview of the field of supernovae – the explosive deaths of stars – since a 1969 text by Soviet astronomer Iosif Shklovsky, so Wheeler and Branch faced the daunting challenge of stitching together nearly 50 years of material.

In the book, they thoroughly explore modern supernova research, focusing on their nature, causes and consequences, as well as discussing what mysteries remain unsolved.

The presenter of the award, the American Astronomical Society, called the book “an extraordinary compilation of information that is logically organised, benefits from clear and engaging writing, and features terrific insights of the kind you’d hope for from a mentor”.

But how exactly does one go about distilling decades of research into a tome that remains compelling?

“If you want to communicate, rather than bore, then you need to entertain your audience a bit,” Wheeler says.

He notes that teaching is excellent experience for writing a textbook – especially teaching science to undergraduates who aren’t actually majoring in any scientific field.

“You learn to explain concepts in simple ways and with useful metaphors,” he says.

Though Supernova Explosions is aimed at a higher education level – graduate students and beyond – and covers difficult concepts, Wheeler and Branch are able to keep the book lively and lucid without sacrificing academic rigour.

They also bring the book to life by caring about language. Wheeler says they worked hard on the merit of the text precisely to make it accessible to their audience.

“We fought over commas, split-infinitives, conjunctions, subjunctives,” he reflects. Writing the text was a “labour of love, seven years in the making”.

In literature in general, language transcends serviceable communication: words become more than just conveyers of information and have meaning in themselves. Good fiction utilises metaphor, anecdote, plot, imagery, analogy, rhythm, repetition, alliteration, voice and more to produce spectacularly engaging pieces of work, and good science

writing naturally draws from the same toolbox.

While literary merit is not usually considered a top priority in academic texts, it does help readers to understand and digest complex information.

Consider Richard Feynman’s classic The Feynman Lectures on Physics, noted by a Nature review as having “simplicity, beauty, unity ... presented with enthusiasm and insight”; or Concrete Mathematics by Donald Knuth and others, which is a rigorous but light-hearted treatment of mathematics that even includes “mathematical graffiti” in the margins from Stanford University students.

By reaching beyond pure facts and engaging the reader on an emotional level, such texts are far more likely to lead towards understanding.

Popular science books, too, tend to employ literary techniques to communicate difficult ideas by igniting interest and wonder. This can come in the form of inspiring imagery, a clever metaphor, a human voice among the facts, or humour.

“Some are overly simplistic, others simple, but superb in communicating the science,” Wheeler says of pop-science books. “It is an art.”

Language is a tool, not just for conveying information but for the imagination: fascinating as well as informing. The most effective pieces of science writing seem to be those that utilise language to communicate both the truth and the beauty of science – because they speak in a voice that readers want to listen to.

So why shouldn’t these tools carry over to academic writing?

Good writing often also utilises the power of narrative, since it allows information to be structured in a coherent, believable and interesting way.

Wheeler agrees, saying that in his lectures and books, he feels as though he is telling a story.

“I say that explicitly to my undergrads: I’m telling you the story of supernovae, or black holes,” he says.

Supernova Explosions, too, is centred around many smaller stories that link together to form an overarching narrative.

“This is the story of how neutron stars are formed,” Wheeler says. “This is the story of how white dwarfs explode. Yes, it is science, but it is a story.”

Unlike in fiction, the endings of these stories are often uncertain and not neatly tied up. But these unknown aspects are perhaps the most exciting parts.

“That is what the research is all about,” Wheeler concludes.