How It Works… The Computer

Boing Boing Gadgets posted this funny bit of explanation humor — a reworking of a 1979 book explaining computer technology.

How It Works... The Computer

The original is fun too, even aside from the entertainment value of clunky hardware and 70s office-wear. I’d like to find some more books from this seres (published by Ladybird Books). Thanks to reduced smoke and mirrors, it’s usually easier to understand core concepts by examining older versions of technology.

I particularly like this tidy illustration of binary code:

Binary Code

Last minute Explainy Gift Idea: The Way We Work

I’ve been enjoying David Macaulay’s new book, The Way We Work: Getting To Know the Amazing Human Body. As in his 1988 classic The Way Things Work (and revised 1998 edition, The New Way Things Work), Macaulay explains his subject through well-crafted illustrations and text.

My parents bought me The Way Things Work when I was 12, and it turned out to be one of my favorite books of all time. So I’m very happy to see Macaulay at it again. And sheesh, what a subject. I’ve explained aspects of human physiology before, and it’s a killer. It will be great to have this master explainer’s effort on the reference shelf.

Way We Work Respiratory and Circulatory Coaster

There are many things to love about Macaulay’s work. Just a few:

  1. He uses witty and helpful visual metaphors, but never lets them take over. Some of the machines in The Way Things Work are giant-sized, with little people and mammoths operating them. This subtly makes very small things less intimidating and makes explanations more memorable. But Macaulay doesn’t bend over for the metaphor by tacking on a story-line or the like. The new book sometimes uses the same small-people technique (sans mammoths), but Macaulay resisted the urge to cast the whole thing as a Fantastic-Voyage-style tour of the body. Instead, he deploys a metaphor only when it works (for example, the above drawing showing the circulatory and respiratory systems as a roller coaster). For some body parts, he draws straight-forward anatomical pictures.
  2. He starts with the core components and works his way up. In The Way We Work, he opens with an explanation of atoms, so he can explain molecules, so he can explain proteins and acids, so he can explain cells, so he can explain body parts and functions. Lesser physiology overviews jump straight to labeling the parts of the body, in “the hip bone’s connected to the thigh bone” style. But if you don’t understand DNA and cells first, knowing terminology won’t help you understand anything significant about the body. It’s nice that he lays a foundation of fundamentals.
  3. He respects expertise but is not an expert. His extensive research included consulting with several physiology experts, and even observing operations. He also brought a science writer, Richard Walker, as a co-author. This is an ideal combination — as a reader, you can count on the book’s accuracy, but the explainer can relate to your layman’s ignorance. Macaulay went on a six-year journey to understand the body, using only standard-issue, non-doctor knowledge, and this is his report on what he found out.

I noticed there are some lukewarm reviews from Macaulay fans on Amazon. The main two complaints so far are that the colored illustrations fall short of his past work and that the text is too advanced for kids. There’s something to both of these points, but I think Macaulay had good reason to make these choices. I do like the aesthetic quality of the hard ink lines of The Way Things Work better than the fuzzier colored-pencil style in The Way We Work. But biology doesn’t have the hard lines you see in machinery, so his approach makes sense to me. Here’s artwork from each, side by side:

The Way Things Work and The Way We Work

As for the age-appropriateness, I expect Houghton Mifflin is responsible for marketing this as a kid’s book. Macaulay told NPR that he didn’t have any age in mind for his audience, but wrote it for himself (adding “I don’t know how to do it any other way.”) To me, it seems like his priorities were to be explicit, thorough and accurate. In any case, the book will certainly be tough for younger readers, but that’s inherent in the subject matter. Better to challenge some readers than dumb it down, I’d say.

Economic Meltdown Scapegoat #87: Jargon

It would be a huge stretch to blame our current economic troubles entirely on jargon, but it did play a part.

I’m thinking specifically about the mortgage bubble. I’ve brought three houses, and every time, I was overwhelmed by the unnecessarily cryptic language involved. The vast majority of people who buy and sell houses aren’t lawyers or mortgage brokers, yet all the paperwork seems designed to mystify any non-expert.

And of course, it partly is. If you can confuse somebody, it will be easier to talk them into giving you more money. The Truth in Lending Act requires lenders to provide the buyer with the terms of the loan, but, through the power of jargon, they can make that disclosure murky and intimidating. (If you’ve never been through the home-buying wringer, check out this glossary to see what I mean.)

In short, the baffling language of loans helped create an environment where many home buyers feel like they have no prayer of making sense of it all, so they just have to take an expert’s word for it. In most cases, the nearest experts are the mortgage broker and the real estate age, both of whom have (or rather, had) an economic incentive in buyers borrowing more money than is prudent.

You see similar problems in other industries. Crooked mechanics spew enough ominous car jargon that you just pay the bill to make it all go away. Mediocre programmers turn on the tech talk to explain away glitches to their non-techy clients and coworkers. Hurried doctors hurl perplexing medical terms to push you toward their preferred course of treatment.

Jargon isn’t inherently bad, of course. Among experts, it makes communication much more efficient. But more often than not, jargon that spills out into the world of non-experts is repressive. People use it as a tool to tip others off balance and make them feel small. And even if you’re not the devious sort, it’s easy to do this accidentally unless you check your jargon levels vigilantly.

(While on this subject of mortgages, let me be the zillionth explaining nerd to point to “The Giant Pool of Money” from This American Life)

Explanatory Filenames

Here’s an Andy-Rooneyish pet peeve: filenames and subject lines that don’t take the intended audience into account.

Do you know what I hate?

For example, let’s say you’re responding to a request for proposal (RFP) for a project called The Annihilatrix. What filename do you choose for your proposal when you email it to the potential client?

In my experience, even some big agencies will call it Annihilatrix_Proposal.pdf or something similar. If you’re working on proposals for multiple possible clients, this is a logical way to keep track of all of them. But think about the guy on the other end who receives proposals from 10 different candidates on the deadline day, all with the same filename. The first thing he has to do is rename each of them. If you’re thinking about your audience, you’d save the proposal with your company’s name in the filename — e.g. TomCo-Annihilatrix_Proposal.pdf.

There are many such opportunities for better explanations in business. For example, the subject line “Marketing Plan” isn’t very helpful if you’re emaling the head of the marketing department. She might be dealing with a dozen marketing plans for different projects.

Practicing good explanation even in the small matters can really make life easier for your oh-so-busy colleagues. Pay it forward.