Mathematicians are an odd lot. Did you know we are statistically more likely than any other classification of scientist to believe in heaven? And do you know why that is? Because we see it. Every day. A world so perfect, so logical, that in comparison our actual existence seems like a confusing dream. An illusion. Perfection exists in our notebooks and on our whiteboards and our computer models. Ask any mathematician which world seems more real - the perfect world of numbers or the disordered, incoherent mess all around is...the universe revealed to us by our eyes and ears - and almost to a man we will vote for the numbers. What most people call reality is just the overmatched mind trying to make sense of a univers too vast for it to understand. As the world appears more and more complex, we find ways to deny its complexity and make it simpler. Our brains fill the huge gaps in our knowledge with myths and delusions in order to create a world through which we can navigate. A world in which we can feel secure. Numbers are up to the task by themselves, however. You and I are blind and deaf, but numbers can see and hear.

I thoroughly enjoyed this novel, but not for the reasons I thought I would.

I expected a lot more math. There were some oblique references, but the math was entirely tangential to the plot, no pun intended. I thought that the Pythagorean cult would be described directly, with Pythagoras and his contemporaries as characters, at least in ancient, moldy flashbacks, but he and his mathemagical cronies were long since dead and gone as the story unfolded, and only the splintered factions of his ancient secret society remained. It turns out that this was good enough for a fun story, though, so I'm not complaining.

If there's one thing I love as much as a fun treatment of mathematics, it's impossibly convoluted conspiracy theories, especially if it involves a secret society which clandestinely pulls the puppet strings on the world stage, sending gun-toting thugs after a spunky heroine who threatens their nefarious schemes.

(I hope it will not be viewed as too shamelessly self promoting to provide a link to my own book here, because this illustrates why I like this sort of thing so much: http://www.encpress.com/MM.html )

I'm a firm believer that character is the single most important element of fiction. A riveting plot may keep us turning pages, but it is the characters that stay with us after the last page is turned. I adored the character of Canada Gold. I think I'll remember her long after I forget the difference between the acusmatici and the mathematici. The distinction is already blurring in my mind, but Canada is there to stay.