Zombies and Calculus
“Whether you agree or disagree with the idea of mixing zombies with calculus, Adams is a craftsman of the first order. Zombies and Calculus has everything: calculus, calculation of force, statistics, normal deviation, word play, heroics, romance, slapstick, and zombies. Two bloody thumbs up!”
A post-modern, post-apocalyptic calculus guide for zombie survivalists.
This reviewer ended up writing a variety of introductions for Zombies and Calculus and in the end had difficulty choosing one to submit. Rather than make that final choice, here they all are for your reading enjoyment:
1.
Zombies and Calculus is a popular mathematics book written as a guide from the perspective of a math professor under attack from a zombie outbreak. The guide’s “author,” Craig Williams, uses his knowledge of calculus to survive. Says the “author,” “I would not be here today if it were not for calculus. Maybe it will help you stay alive a little longer too.” He cautions that one should read his guide only if you have the time because, “. . . these days, trying stay alive is a full time job.”
2.
(Cue the theme to the Twilight Zone.) For your consideration: What if Oscar Fernandez the author of Everyday Calculus (previously reviewed on this website) did not have a “normal” day but instead had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day? Zombies and Calculus by Colin Adams is that very bad day. Unlike Will You Be Alive 10 Years from Now by Paul J. Nahin (also previously reviewed on this website), Adams takes that extra step toward reader friendliness by adding a review of calculus in an appendix.
3.
The trouble with having categories such as fiction and nonfiction is there’s always some damn fool (or crazy genius) who authors a genre-bending book that messes with the minds of those whose job it is to put things into categories. Into what category should Zombies and Calculus go? Fiction? Well, it’s about zombies, for Pete’s sake. Nonfiction? It’s got real mathematics, equations and everything. You, the reader, have to decide.
4.
Once over the disorientation caused by Zombies and Calculus (Zombies and Calculus? Zombies? Calculus? Wha—?) this reviewer ended up admitting, if grudgingly, that Zombies and Calculus just might be the future of education, a mashup of pop culture and education necessary to hold the short attention span of gamers. Zombies and Calculus? It’s zombies and calculus, dude! And I’m turning all Pastafarian just thinking about it.
5.
Zombies and Calculus is the math book for those who always wondered but never asked, if you threw a zombie off a high railing, how long would it take to hit the ground?
As I watched him fall, I counted out loud, “One, two . . .”
“Why were you counting?” asked Jessie.
“It’s a way of telling how far it fell.”
For zombie fans, Zombies and Calculus reads like pulp fiction or the screenplay of a summer movie. The opening scene is the recent now: the campus of Rogers College in a calculus class taught by Craig Williams.
Charlie, one of William’s students, shambles in to class late, and Williams assumes that Charlie’s odd gait is just that he is hung over—until Charlie falls onto and attacks another student. Says Williams, “Initially I and all the other students assumed Charlie had tripped . . . but almost immediately, Megan started shrieking, and suddenly blood was spurting out.”
Initially, Williams attempts to escape but gets trapped in a classroom with a small group of survivors. There is a relatively small and easy cast to keep track of, including his mathematics colleague/competitor, Gunderson; Angus (a C student who gets smarter as the day gets longer); Marsha, an administrative assistant; and Jessie, a professor of biology, Williams’ heroine and love interest.
A few of the cast are turned into zombies, a few are saved, and a few are used for comic relief, romantic interest, or both. As the plot thickens we learn that Jessie once had a brief fling with Gunderson. She confesses to Williams in a shared hideout, a “portapotty” on campus, and Gunderson, in the next portapotty overhears. No, I am not making this up.
Hmmm. There’s also an off-hand chance this may be a roman à clef. Fictional Rogers College happens to be placed suspiciously in the same locale as the non-fictional Williams College, which just so happens to be the real author Colin Adam’s college. Note also the fictional author’s name, Craig Williams. Williams not only dispatches rivals and disliked coworkers to zombie attacks but along the way he shreds the tenure process and skewers petty faculty jealousies. I wonder how the real author’s dean will feel about this, considering this passage, “. . . Collins tumbled to the walkway, and the zombies immediately fell upon him. ‘Too bad,’ said Angus softly. ‘He was a good dean,’ said Jessie. ‘That’s not what you said when he turned down your request for personal leave,’ said Gunderson.”
That the heroine is a biologist enables zombie biology to be bounded by science, providing them a plausible existence as well as widening the range of calculus for the reader to consider. The plausible explanation is that zombies are infected by a virus that destroys the higher-level functioning of the brain, reducing their behavior to what’s allowed by primitive or “reptile” brain.
Zombies have poor balance, move slowly, cannot regulate their body heat, and are always hungry. Zombies are not dead (or un-dead), and can be killed in the “normal” way—there’s calculus to determine the force of a head trauma necessary to crack a skull. Adams also has an excuse to provide the mathematics of viruses, for example the virus growth rate in human hosts (which is exponential in case you were wondering), and the calculus of predator-prey ecology for which there’s the logistics model and the aptly named predator-prey model.
Zombies and Calculus may not be the Great American Novel but it is fun and though strictly speaking not “normal” or full-fledged calculus text, there’s more than enough mathematics to matter. The pacing and balance of plot to mathematics is also well managed. Remove the calculus and this book has the bones of a good bad “summer movie,” remove the zombies and the calculus remains of relevance and interest.
Where the book is serious is with respect to mathematics (except perhaps for the premise behind the problem).
Mathematically minded readers won’t be disappointed. There are a variety of applications where calculus may be applied (to zombies and to the real world). To start, the reader can calculate the speed that a zombie moves by calculating the derivative of distance versus time. A zombie chasing an uninfected human on a bicycle is recognized as the “classic pursuit problem” and analyzed as such. If that cyclist travels in a circular path at a slightly greater speed than the zombie (in order to distract the zombies from a wounded uninfected professor), the zombie’s path follows the shape called a radiodrome (I had to look up radiodrome. It’s a wonderful word. I think I’ll add it into my daily conversation).
For the more complex mathematics, Adams provides appendices for problems that had been partially worked out in the main body and a pragmatic tactic that reduces the chance of overwhelming (or boring) the reader, yet allows an instructor to fully expand on an interesting problem. The indicator that there is more calculus in an appendix is a small bloody handprint in the margin. Well-played Professor Adams, I say; well played.
Adams knows what he is doing, and does it well, neither does he shy away from blood and violence, the key attributes of any successful zombie theme. There are several deaths by gun, one death by speeding snowplow, and several more by baseball bat. There’s also a “continuity” failure undetected by the editors: a golf club first identified between pages 129 and 130, becomes a baseball bat when used as a weapon, whereupon page 136 the bat reverts back a golf club.
Colin Adams shows he is a writer in full control. Whether you agree or disagree with the idea of mixing zombies with calculus, Adams is a craftsman of the first order. Zombies and Calculus has everything: calculus, calculation of force, statistics, normal deviation, word play, heroics, romance, slapstick, and zombies. Two bloody thumbs up!