In this is fairly short book of about 260 pages Rowland touches on
a wide range of subjects. With a family vacation to France as the
backdrop for his narrative he discusses topics ranging from fine
art and gastronomy to science, religion, philosophy, history and
more. Presumably to keep the tone light and informal, Rowland
frames his ideas using conversations with his beautiful, talented
wife, his beautiful teenage daughter and his precocious fifteen
year old son. In the same vein, he pontificates in letters to his
house-sitter (one of his students) back in Canada.
This is a rambling and largely incoherent book - hardly a surprise
given the range of topics and the length of the book. In apparent
attempts at profundity, Rowland's vocabulary is frequently esoteric
with a scholarly ring but the result is muddled, often
incomprehensible ideas. For me, the overall effect was frustration
bordering on exasperation.
If there is a single coherent theme in this book, it's the aut