Abstract

When I was a teenager growing up in Los Angeles in the early 1940s, my dream was to become a mathematical physicist: I was fascinated by the ideas of relativity theory and quantum mechanics, and I read popular expositions which, in those days, besides Einstein’s The Meaning of Relativity, was limited to books by the likes of Arthur S. Eddington and James Jeans. I breezed through the high-school mathematics courses (calculus was not then on offer, and my teachers barely understood it), but did less well in physics, which I should have taken as a reality check. On the philosophical side I read a mixed bag of Bertrand Russell, John Dewey and Alfred Korzybski (the missionary for “General Semantics” in Science and Sanity, a mish-mash of the theory of types, non-.