BOOK NOTE: A Triumph of Genius - Ronald K Fierstein

Pick problems that are nearly impossible to solve. Pick problems that arise from sensing deep and possibly unarticulated human needs. Pick problems that will draw on the diversity of human knowledge for their solution. And where that knowledge is inadequate, fill the gaps with basic scientific exploration. Involve all the members of the organization in this sense of adventure and accomplishment, so that a large part of life’s reward comes from this involvement.

This quote is attributed to Dr Edwin Land, founder of the Polaroid Corporation and one of the greatest inventors of all time. While the attribution to Land is well established, the quotation does not appear to originate from a single published source. It is most likely drawn from internal speeches or memoranda delivered by Land within Polaroid, reflecting his deeply held philosophy rather than a polished public statement.

Ronald K. Fierstein’s book is aptly titled A Triumph of Genius.

Among the many biographies I have read about exceptional individuals, few come as close to a true portrait of genius as this account of Edwin Land. A prolific inventor with more than five hundred patents to his name, Land ranked in his time just behind figures such as Edison and Thomson in sheer inventive output. Beyond this, he was also a pioneer at the intersection of technology and the arts, an area he believed was essential to human progress.

The book traces Land’s early life as an inventor, beginning with his development of polarizing filters, technology that most of us now use daily in products such as sunglasses and car headlights. It also covers his critical role during the Second World War, when he supported Allied war efforts through innovations in optics, including camera systems used on bomber flights and other advanced military photographic equipment.

A substantial portion of the book focuses on Polaroid’s efforts in developing instant photography during the second half of the twentieth century. Fierstein goes into impressive detail explaining the foundational science behind instant cameras and films, effectively showing how an entire darkroom was compressed into a small, handheld device. The chemistry and engineering that the researchers and industrialists brought together in the iconic Polaroid camera is nothing short of genius.

I was reminded of John Collison’s post that the World is a Museum of Passion projects.

This section is one of the most rewarding parts of the book, not only for its scientific clarity but also for its vivid character sketches of Land and the many researchers and executives who helped bring these ideas to life.

The majority of the book, however, concentrates on the landmark intellectual property litigation between Polaroid and Kodak. This section is equally compelling, offering portraits not just of technologists, but also of senior business leaders, lawyers, and judges involved in one of the most consequential patent cases of the late twentieth century. Written by a junior lawyer on the Polaroid legal team, the narrative provides a rare inside view of the legal process, capturing both its brilliance and its unpredictability. As the book itself states, A Triumph of Genius chronicles, in an unprecedented insider account, Polaroid’s legal battle with Kodak, a case whose outcome continues to shape how technological innovation is protected well into the twenty first century.

For me, the deepest satisfaction came from reading about the nature of genius itself and from being inspired by Edwin Land’s philosophy of life and work. Much can be learned from his outlook. One of Land’s personal mottos was “to do what no one else could do”, a principle he lived by consistently.

He stands among those rare figures who combined reclusive brilliance with an ability to perform as a consummate showman when required. He was a true scientist who understood the importance of art and beauty, and who made it his mission to bring beauty into the everyday life.

Steve Jobs is often described as having a reality distortion field, an ability to bend the possible through sheer force of belief. Edwin Land can be seen as his intellectual, commercial and technologist predecessor. It was said of Land that people who worked with him became experts, and that difficult or seemingly impossible problems appeared to yield in his presence.

“My whole life has been spent trying to teach people that intense concentration for hour after hour can bring about in people resources they did not know they had” Land once said. This belief runs like a quiet undercurrent throughout the book.

Fierstein’s work is meticulously researched and does genuine justice to the complexity of genius. At the same time, having been immersed in the crucible of the Polaroid Kodak patent battle, he excels at portraying the legal and business personalities involved. I particularly enjoyed reading about Judge Rya Zobel, the sharp and fair minded judge who presided over the trial, as well as Herb Schwartz, lead counsel for Polaroid. The portrayals of Kodak executives Louis Eilers and Walter Fallon were also intriguing, especially in showing how personal animosity toward Land played a role in decisions that ultimately led to Kodak’s costly infringement loss.

In closing, George Bernard Shaw’s words feel especially fitting in describing Edwin Land: 

There are those who look at things the way they are and ask why. I dream of things that never were and ask why not.

A truly inspiring read. Such an inspiration, that I decided to indulge in his creation and recently purchased my Polaroid camera!

BOOK NOTE: The Old Man - Thomas Perry

 

A boomer Jack Reacher is an easy sell. The Old Man is a gripping and entertaining read that delivers a relatively simple adventure story centered on a capable yet unlikely action hero. I enjoyed the audacious simplicity of the Old Man as a character. His actions feel believable because of his clandestine background, and yet his age constantly works against expectations. You find yourself trusting his skills while doubting his endurance, which adds tension to even straightforward scenes.

At its core, the book is about how the Old Man evades powerful forces determined to hunt him down. Like Lee Child’s Reacher series, he lives off the grid. Unlike Reacher, who actively goes looking for trouble, Dan Chase, also known as the Old Man, is trying to avoid it. His instinct is not confrontation, but escape. The drama comes from his attempt to slip away quietly rather than to dominate every encounter.

What stood out to me in books like Reacher and The Old Man is a distinctly modern anxiety. How does one disappear in a world where almost every action leaves a digital trace. Beneath the familiar adventure tropes lies a simple but unsettling premise. In today’s world, disappearing requires the training of a CIA operative, access to significant resources, and often a willingness to use violence.

We often speak of anonymity on the internet as if it were a given. Stories like this reveal the illusion behind that belief. The surveillance state has emerged as a powerful counterweight to the anonymity promised by the digital revolution. In many ways, the pendulum has swung entirely in the opposite direction. With digital payments, digital identities, and persistent online presence, it is increasingly reasonable to argue that anonymity is no longer viable.

Another thread running through this idea is tied to urbanization. In the twentieth century, as populations moved from small, closely knit rural or semi urban communities to dense cities, a new form of anonymity emerged. In villages, everyone knew who the troublemaker was, and fugitives could rarely remain hidden. Cities, by contrast, offered loneliness and obscurity. People could live for decades in anonymous apartment blocks without knowing their neighbours. Yet the rise of digital surveillance, driven by security concerns, has transformed urban centres into the most monitored spaces of all. Cities may still allow one to blend into the crowd, but never to step outside the digital panopticon.

That said, the book itself does not explicitly dwell on these themes. They sit beneath the high adrenaline exploits of an aging fugitive and his two dogs. Still, there is an underlying sense of lost individual sovereignty, and a quiet lament about how difficult it has become to truly disappear.

It is a strong and engaging read. I would be remiss, however, not to mention the television series adapted from the book. While it deviates significantly from the original plot, sometimes frustratingly so, it explores the difficulty of disappearing more directly than the novel does. I am still working my way through the episodes. The pacing is slow, but at times it feels more contemplative, and occasionally deeper than the book itself. 

I strongly believe that fiction is one of the best ways to peer into the future. By placing us in imagined worlds, it allows us to explore consequences before we encounter them directly. The Old Man prompted me to think about a world where the balance between anonymity and convenience, and between privacy and security, continues to tilt in one direction. It also made me consider what that shift means for individuals, and for a society made up of individuals who have already accepted that trade-off.

BOOK NOTE: Nightshade - Michael Connelly

 

A new Connelly novel, and that too one introducing a new detective into the Los Angeles crime universe, was all I needed to want to devour this book. As a big fan of Michael Connelly’s other creations, including Harry Bosch, Mickey Haller, and Rene Ballard, my expectations were high. The familiar Los Angeles crime setting, a trope I have written about before, is a personal favorite across books, television shows, films, and even computer games.

Nightshade has all the classic Connelly bestseller ingredients. A dead girl, a dogged loner cop as the protagonist, corrupt politicians, macabre gang members, nosy reporters, and dirty, ineffectual cops who serve as rivals to the hero. The story does not disappoint, and it is unquestionably a page turner. That said, it did not leave a lasting mark in the way many of the Harry Bosch novels have. It worked well as an engaging detective story to slot in between more serious nonfiction reading, and for that I was satisfied and have little to complain about.

Detective Stilwell, however, feels somewhat dull for my tastes. His backstory is revealed gradually through fragments and interactions, but it does not feel especially distinct. In many ways, he recalls a Ballard shaped by loneliness and held together by surfing, or the original Bosch with his deeply tortured past that drives his reactions and decisions. Stilwell, too, has a history of internal police politics that leads to his reassignment to a secluded Los Angeles island, where he functions as the primary lawman. He is almost too competent a detective for such a contained setting, which makes the situation feel unbalanced, like bringing an oversized weapon to a small fight.

Catalina Island itself feels too small a stage when compared to the larger Los Angeles canvas on which Bosch, Ballard, and Haller typically operate. To be clear, small and enclosed settings can be excellent backdrops for murder mysteries. The Knives Out films, and even The White Lotus, show how limited spaces can heighten tension and create compelling drama. They succeed by building dread through dense interpersonal politics and layered relationships. Catalina Island, despite its shady wealthy residents and exclusive private clubs, does not quite achieve that effect here. The atmosphere never fully develops the sense of intrigue or unease that such a setting promises.

I was left wondering whether Michael Connelly’s universe might benefit from a genuinely happy detective. One who does not rely on a tortured past for motivation. One whose personal struggles recede into the background, allowing the mystery itself to carry more of the weight. Or perhaps that would make the book feel less like a Connelly novel at all.

BOOK NOTE: The Not To Do List - Rolf Dobelli

Rolf Dobelli is a successful entrepreneur and author. I suspect he is an even better motivational or keynote speaker. He is an accomplished writer, with many books that have catchy, memorable titles. Some of these include Stop Reading the News, The Art of Thinking Clearly, and The Art of the Good Life. While these titles may appear vaguely self-help and are packaged that way, his books clearly have a strong following.

The Not to Do List is one of them, and I listened to it as an audiobook. It takes the familiar “to-do” list genre of self-help and flips it, focusing instead on what we should avoid to lead a successful life.

The idea of focusing on what not to do, rather than on what to do, was not new to me. I first encountered it through Nassim Taleb’s concept of via negativa, the notion that progress is often achieved more reliably by removing what causes harm than by adding new optimizations. In strategy, an area I work in professionally and a subject of long standing interest, this way of thinking is foundational. Strategy is less about expanding options and more about narrowing them, about drawing clear lines around what will be excluded. Peter Drucker articulated this powerfully when he framed strategy as a discipline of choice. Effectiveness, in his view, comes not from doing more things well, but from deciding which things should not be done at all. Seen this way, strategy becomes an act of subtraction, a process of clearing space so that what truly matters can operate without interference.

I have encountered the same idea across different domains, from minimalist thinking to practical philosophies of life that emphasize reduction of friction over accumulation of the next best things. As someone who values clear boundaries, the idea of not burdening the mind or physical spaces by consciously avoiding clutter resonates deeply with me. Leading a simple life is a personal ethos. What may have begun as a necessity shaped by family values has evolved into a deliberate way of life for me. I consciously try to avoid overconsumption, and I have seen many highly successful people adopt this approach and thrive because of it.

Even so, it is not always easy. In today’s hyper commercial world, it is far easier to consume mindlessly than to curate thoughtfully and prioritize deliberately. When I came across this book on my library app, it felt like something worth listening to. Dobelli makes a solid case for restraint, and the book helped me reflect more directly on these themes. That said, while it works well as reinforcement for readers already aligned with this philosophy, I do not think it is the strongest book for introducing or persuading newcomers.

I suspect this is largely due to the book’s structure. Each chapter begins, in a roundabout way, with a story illustrating behavior we should avoid. This is then followed, somewhat formulaically, by what Dobelli calls the “Quiet Voice of Reason,” explaining what not to do instead. This approach works in some chapters, but at times it feels contrived and slightly sardonic.

This format is effective in a keynote speech, where repetition and structure help drive a message home. In a book, however, it feels less satisfying. As I tried to articulate what was bothering me, I was reminded of George Clooney’s character in Up in the Air and his “what is in your backpack” philosophy. That comparison captured my unease perfectly.

BOOK NOTE: You Never Know With Women - James Hadley Chase

 

A typical Chase potboiler, but one that felt more depressing than strictly fun. The title of the book is too much of a giveaway, even by Chase standards, where one usually knows who the criminal is. The cat-and-mouse chase has an interesting survivalist trope to it, hidden in the vast 1940s California wilderness and mileu. I loved the initial part of the story, with a down-on-his-luck private detective, like that of Raymond Chandler’s books already having trouble with the cops, making a shady deal with likely criminal. Hadley Chase does a good job of making you hate all the wrong people initially, and while they all have shades of grey, the real ‘bad guy’ is revealed with a twist.

Some parts are not so believable, like the convenient bombs that go off without hurting the hero, the ferocious guard dogs that do not bite, and the oh so convenient hideaway that is waiting to be used by the fugitives on the run. But this just shows the hardy, ‘make what you can of the situation’ luck that the Hadley Chase’s criminals seem to have.

What struck me, interestingly, is that the survivalist theme also showed up in another book I was reading around the same time. In a similar twist, in Thomas Perry’s The Old Man, the fugitives also make use of a hideaway in the Californian mountains near Los Angeles. Funny how that happens, although Perry’s fugitives are in a luxurious hideout, while Hadley Chase’s are in an abandoned and beat up cabin.

One thing I always find great about James Hadley Chase’s books, which I have commented on before here, is how easy it is to visualize the scenes he describes, and how that is a mark of great writing. This happened again, and I was left imagining whether the hideaway that the fugitives in The Old Man use, at a much later point in time, is the same place from You Never Know With Women, just refurbished for Luxury.

Or it is just my wild imagination.