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A
Hole in Texas by Herman Wouk Rating: ••• (Recommended) |
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Particles Veteran writer Herman Wouk has produced his
first novel in a decade, A Hole in
Texas, that provides entertaining reading. Wouk has lost none of his talent in creating memorable
characters, caught up in their personal passions and in the critical issues
of their times. Wouk captures the challenges of
science, and the difficulties of funding research, especially within the
constraints of politics. He provides insight into human behavior and does it
all with precision and fine writing. Here’s an excerpt, all of Chapter 2, pp. 10-16: Here we go,” said the Project Scientist
as Guy Carpenter shuffled into her bleak windowless office, its gray-painted
walls lined with discouraged greenery in long boxes. Peter Braunstein came in behind him. “Feeling better, Guy?” “Passable.”
His back was quite numb now, his brain thickly fogged by codeine. “Okay,
then. Tell them, Rafe.” Lounging
on a hard chair, his feet up on another chair, was the System Engineer, a
short broad-shouldered Englishman in jeans and an old sweater. “Right.
Gentlemen, the Chinese have got the Higgs boson.” “What?”
Braunstein all but yelled. Carpenter simply
stared. “You
heard me.” “The
CHINESE?” said Carpenter. Rafe chuckled, glancing at the Project
Scientist. “The Chinese. “Ah,
jokes.” Carpenter sounded relieved. “You wish!” Ottoline’s
face hardened. “That’s how I reacted at first. It’s very serious.” “Ottoline,
it’s inconceivable.” “You’re here to tell us why,” she said,
“and you’d better be convincing.” “Oh, look, they haven’t got the
machines, they don’t begin to have the technology — why, even the Europeans at CERN, when
they shut down for an upgrade, admitted they were five years away from
getting the Higgs.” He shook his head in disbelief. “The Chinese?” “Stop saying that,” snarled the Project
Scientist. “Yes, the Chinese!” Dr. Ottoline Porson was a big blonde in her fifties, with a huge
behind, and gray streaks in her hair. She was one of “I’m expecting a fax from “I took that call in the bathtub,” she
put in. “I slipped in my hurry to get out and e-mail you fellows, darn near
broke my neck —“ Carpenter demanded of the System
Engineer, “Who called you?” “Staff writer at Nature, to tell
me that something bloody hot was in the wind.” “Come on, Rafe.”
A leak from the leading science journal in the world was a sobering surprise.
“Are you saying that you have a mole at Nature?” Raphael’s grin was a shade smug.
“Female mole. Former girlfriend, truth to tell. Good science writer. We’re
still on excellent terms. She’s the editor’s girlfriend now.” “And she reported what?” “An article has come in from the
Chinese, so sensational that Nature is still debating whether to run
it.” Slumped in his chair, Guy Carpenter
said slowly, “Is there coffee around? I’m not up to speed here—” Peter Braunstein
jumped up. “Coming, Guy.” “Thanks,
Pete Ottoline,
where shall I begin? They have no industrial infrastructure for such an
effort. Not by miles. No scientists of outstanding calibre.
Technicians by the horde, yes, but —“ “They’ve
made ICBMs,” interrupted Ottoline. “They’ve exploded
H-bombs.” “Political
stunts,” said Guy, “jump-started by the Soviets, when they were still
friendly.” “Wait,
wait,” said Rafe. “You worked on an accelerator in “Years
ago. Primitive cyclotron. Department of Energy sent me over after Mao died, part of a detente that didn’t last. Fascinating
country, beguiling people, but backward? “That’s
changed,” said Ottoline. “A lot has changed.” Braunstein returned with the coffee. “Rafe, the fax in your office is chattering.” “Here
we go.” The Englishman hurried out. Ottoline said, “Peter, Guy claims they don’t
have the physicists to do the job.” “I
wouldn’t say that.” Braunstein scratched his beard.
“Just offhand, Guy, how about Liu Layu?” “We
know where Liu Layu is,” said Guy. “He’s heading
their nuclear-weapons program.” “You
think we know where he is,” said Ottoline.
“You’re talking about “Then
there’s Wendy,” said Braunstein. “We
know where she is too,” said Guy. The
Project Scientist shifted in her chair to look at Guy. “Wendy?” “Wen Mei Li. She’s been kicked
upstairs from high-energy physics to some big job in their Science and Energy
Ministry. Or whatever they call it. She was in our physics program at
Cornell.” “Absolutely
brilliant,” said Peter, looking to Carpenter. “Queen of the campus in those
Chinese dresses of hers, with physics majors trailing her like baby ducks — why, even Professor Rocovsky
had a case on her — but
argumentative, prudish, never drank anything but water. She worked on the
Stanford accelerator for a while, then went back to “Was she really that pretty?” asked the
Project Scientist. The hot strong coffee was clearing
Guy’s head. “Look, Ottoline, are
you regarding this as an emergency?” “If Nature prints the article,
yes indeed.” “For our project?” “Obviously.” “Nothing’s obvious to me this morning.
Explain why.” “Guy, you worked on the Super Collider —“ “Yes, five and a half years of my life
down the drain. So?” “Could it be revived?” Sipping coffee, Guy Carpenter took a
long pause before answering. “Now listen, Ottoline,
anything can be done, given the budget. The tunnel is still there in “Anything can be done, given the
budget,” she broke in.
“Suppose it’s true? Suppose the Chinese have brought off an underground
Sputnik? You weren’t here when I had to go before Congress on the Space
Telescope because the mirror failed —“ “You did? But the astronauts fixed it,
it’s a glorious success, it’s opening up the universe —“ “Fixing it took two years, Guy. The
media staged a circus over the fuzzy mirror, and Congress had fits. You can’t
predict what Congress will do when something like this surfaces and
the media get hold of it. There’s only so much money for science every year,
and —“ “Here
you are, Ottoline.” Rafe
strode in with a thick sheaf of paper. “The whole article. There’s a letter
coming through too.” He darted out again. She
peered at the top page. “Evidence of Higgs Field Particle Detection —“ “Authors?”
Guy asked. She
held the sheaf up to her eyes, removed her glasses, and squinted. “Wen Mei Li — aha, there’s your Wendy, gentlemen~
leading off— Wu Kwang, Zhao Dapeng,
Liu Layu —“ “Liu
Layu also!” exclaimed Peter Braunstein. Ottoline said, “This is a very poor fax.
Blotchy. V Abramovitch, “How
about it, Guy?” said Braunstein. “Wendy and Layu, plus a couple of Russkis.
Interesting, would you say?” Carpenter
cleared his throat and spoke hoarsely. “Okay, the Russians have been ahead on
titanium and niobium, we know that —“ The
Englishman came back, waving a paper. “Well, it’s a cliffhanger. They’re
holding up the first August issue, and the editorial board is in special
session right now, six in the evening in “Whatever
they decide,” Ottoline said, “I can see we’re
already in trouble. This article” — she
rattled the papers — “must
have substance, and let’s even say they reject it. Nature once
rejected an article by Fermi, you know. Someone here will grab it. American
Scientist, Physics Today —“ “That’s
for sure,” said Braunstein, “or Science —“ Ottoline’s voice went higher. “Someone! A
stampede could start in Congress to revive the Super Collider,
and that could gulp half of all science funding. In which case —“ “You’ve
lost me, Ottoline,” interrupted the Englishman. “If
the Chinese have already done it, where’s the sense?” “I’m
not talking sense, Rafe, I’m talking American
politicians~ press, and above all television,” said the Project Scientist.
“And I’m talking budget. We’re not high on NASA’s mission chart, and —“ “As
far as that goes,” interposed Braunstein, “we’re
sucking Ottoline gave him an arid smile. “Thank you,
Peter, for defining the parameters —“ “Whatever
happens,” said Guy, “we must have the orbiting telescopes, Ottoline, or the whole thing folds up —“ “No
argument,” said Ottoline. “Therefore I’d like a
memo from each of you on a possible long stretch-out of funding —“ The
telephone rang. Rafe reached to snatch it. “Right,
puss, what’s the word?” He nodded several times, glancing around somberly at
the others, and hung up. “Nature is pulling two articles from the
first August issue and featuring the Chinese bombshell on the cover.” “Fat’s
in the fire,” said Braunstein. “This
meeting is over,” said the Project Scientist. “Let me have those stretch-out
memos, gentlemen, pronto.” “One
thing, Ottoline, about that fax,” said Guy, using
his arms to push himself out of his chair. “Fax a copy right away to Rocovsky.” “Rocovsky? His eyes aren’t that good. It’s hardly
legible.” “He’ll
decipher it.” Braunstein and Carpenter walked back to the
camper in a light drizzle. “So, you’re really limping,” the astrophysicist
said. “No tennis again for a while.” “Guess not, Peter, and no volleyball
tonight, that’s for sure.” “Bummer. Caltech will cream us, then.”
A team of faculty members played Jet Propulsion scientists once a year, at
the birthday barbecue of a Caltech trustee on the lawn of his mansion. “Climb
in, I’ll take you home.” “Just to the mall, Saks entrance,
Peter. I’ll get a cab from there.” Braunstein glanced at him. “Saks?” “Bit of shopping.” When Braunstein’s
camper left the mall, Guy Carpenter walked straight through Saks to a small
dark post-office branch at the other entrance. There he filled out a form for
relinquishing a When he got into the taxi, his back gave him a nasty
twinge. Bad, bad day. And far from over. Readers
who have missed Wouk will relish A Hole in
Texas. Those looking for a perfect summer story will enjoy A Hole in
Texas. Steve
Hopkins, July 26, 2004 |
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ã 2004 Hopkins and Company, LLC The recommendation rating for
this book appeared in the August 2004
issue of Executive Times URL for this review: http://www.hopkinsandcompany.com/Books/A
Hole in Texas.htm For Reprint Permission,
Contact: Hopkins & Company, LLC • E-mail: books@hopkinsandcompany.com |
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