Alright, let’s take a deep dive, because what we have here is the story of a man whose relationship with the ordinary was, well, fractured. We’re talking about Benoit Mandelbrot, and his memoir, “The Fractalist“. This book promises to open a window into his life and the storm of ideas within his head. But, as with many complex systems, this window can sometimes be foggy, and other times reveal a breathtaking vista.
First off, the man’s life was nothing short of a wild journey. Born in Warsaw in 1924, Mandelbrot and his family moved to Paris in the 1930s, fleeing the growing threat. During World War II, he famously hid from the Nazis until liberation, studying mathematics in secret, almost like a scene out of a movie. Imagine being on the run for your life, yet secretly honing the mind of a future genius! He emerged from this turmoil to become France’s top math student. This early period of the book is particularly gripping and fascinating.
Mandelbrot himself famously stated, “Unimaginable privilege, I participated in a truly rare event: pure thought fleeing from reality was caught, tamed, and teamed with a reality that everyone recognized as familiar”. This encapsulates the essence of his unique perspective.
Mandelbrot doesn’t fit the typical mold of a “duly-recognized genius”. While many mathematicians produce their most significant work in their youth, our protagonist was the opposite. His groundbreaking work in finance came as he neared forty, and the discovery of the Mandelbrot Set itself came when he was fifty-five years old! He truly was a “good wine that ages well” kind of genius. This offers profound hope to anyone who feels they’ve “missed the boat” or are on “the road less traveled”. His story is an inspiration to those who forge their own path.
He identified deeply with George Bernard Shaw’s assertion: “The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore, all progress depends on the unreasonable man.”. This philosophy clearly guided his scientific journey.
His uncle, Szolem, played a truly immense role in his life. Szolem seemed to be Mandelbrot’s compass, showing him that mathematics wasn’t just about calculations, but could also be poetry and art in its search for truth, beauty, and intuition. This family legacy likely fed his desire to conquer “roughness”. Think of mountain ranges, clouds, financial market fluctuations—those irregular, complex structures in nature. This obsession with mathematically describing the “rough edges” of the world pushed him to create fractal geometry. And in doing so, he made mind-expanding insights like: “Complicated shapes might be easily understood dynamically as processes, not just as objects”, and “Bottomless wonders spring from simple rules…repeated without end.”. This offers a deep perspective on the workings of the universe and even financial markets.
Now, let’s address the areas where the book, much like a fractal, repeats patterns that might become a little disjointed or even annoying.
- The Name-Dropping Extravaganza: There’s an undeniable “name-dropping epidemic”. Every few pages, you encounter a famous scientist, a genius, a professor: Oppenheimer, von Neumann, Lévi-Strauss, Chomsky, Piaget. While it’s impressive who he knew, some readers felt it was as if he was “trying to legitimize himself when he didn’t need it”. One wishes he had delved deeper into how these brilliant minds truly shaped his own thought processes, rather than just stating “we met, they were smart”. He was “not very good at writing about them”.
- Where’s the Math, Bapak Fractalist?: You’d expect the “father of fractals” to offer a deep dive into the mathematics, wouldn’t you? Yet, the book contains only one very simple formula. It’s almost as if it’s saying, “Let’s not get too technical, this is a memoir”. But when you’ve done something so revolutionary, one yearns to understand how those complex, infinitely beautiful shapes emerge from such a simple rule. Instead of describing the boring administrators at IBM, some readers wished for more profound discussions, such as on Kolmogorov-Chaitin complexity.
- The Veiled Personal Life: Mandelbrot dedicates very little space to his personal life, with his introduction to his wife, Aliette, covered in just two pages. His family life also receives scant attention. While he may have wished to protect their privacy, it leaves readers wondering “how his wife and family helped shape his person and thoughts”.
- The Writing Style – A Fractal Itself?: The book’s writing style can be somewhat disjointed, repetitive, and uneven. It feels as if Mandelbrot, who finished the memoir shortly before his death, didn’t have the chance to fully edit it. There’s also a recurring theme of self-congratulation and ego that some readers found off-putting.
So, what’s the takeaway? “The Fractalist” is fundamentally an adventure story about the life of a mathematical genius, presented as a memoir. If you’re expecting a deep, analytical dive into Mandelbrot’s scientific contributions, you’re better off heading straight for his other works, like “The Fractal Geometry of Nature“.
However, if you’re curious about the journey of a non-conformist mind, a man who challenged boundaries, and lived by the philosophy of the “unreasonable man”, then give this book a shot. You won’t regret it. Just be prepared for a few “hmm” or “I wish” moments along the way. Because this man is a rare example of a scientist who “reinvented himself surprisingly late in life”, and that, in itself, is utterly captivating. It’s recommended for “anyone interested in geometry, math, fractals or men of science. Or anyone interested in memoir”. It offers an “interesting insight into the life and work of Benoit Mandelbrot”.
