Fans pick 100 books like Things to Make and Do in the Fourth Dimension

This is a sequel to Alex Bellos's bestseller Alex's Adventures in Numberland, but more focused on applications of mathematics to the real world, especially through physics. Many of these were known to me, particularly when they involved calculus, but I greatly enjoyed Alex's distinctive and novel way of putting across sophisticated ideas, in part by interspersing them with personal interviews with mathematicians of all kinds.  

This may seem an odd choice, but as a maths popularizer I need to know all that I can about why some people find the main elements of the subject so difficult. I found Doug French's book exceptionally helpful in this respect, even though it is aimed principally at high school teachers. This is partly because he focuses throughout on the most important mathematical ideas and difficulties. Moreover, the scope is wider than the title suggests, for he also ventures imaginatively into both geometry and calculus.

One way of enlivening any presentation of mathematics is by including some history of the subject, but this only really works if there is some serious scholarship behind it. I especially like Hollingdale's book, partly because of the concise writing style, and partly because of the unusually good balance between history and mathematics itself. The calculus, in all its various forms, with some aspects going right back to the Ancient Greeks, is treated especially well.

This book has haunted me for years. For what is it, exactly, that gives it such enduring popularity? After all, it was first published in 1936, yet is still in print today. In his autobiography, Hogben remarks on the importance of eye-catching illustrations but speculates that its success may instead be because the book contains – most unusually for a 'popular' work – exercises and answers, making it more suitable for self-teaching. Whatever the real answer, his book must surely have something to teach anyone – like myself – who aspires to bring mainstream mathematics to life for the general public.

I was given this book when I was about 15, and devoured it. It is an eclectic collection of mathematical paradoxes, fallacies, and curiosities so strange that they seem impossible. Mathematical magic tricks, a proof that all numbers are equal, a proof that all triangles are isosceles, a curve whose length is infinite but whose area is finite, a curve that crosses itself at every point, a curve that fills the interior of a square. Infinities that are bigger than other infinities. The Saint Petersburg Paradox in probability, a calculation that you should pay the bank an infinite amount of money to play one fair coin-tossing game. The smallest number that cannot be named in fewer than thirteen words (which I’ve just named in twelve words).

They say that Plato was not a mathematician but was a maker of mathematicians. The same could be said of Martin Gardner, a prolific author who wrote, among many other things, the “Mathematical Games” column for Scientific American for a quarter of a century. Although all his books are excellent, The Colossal Book of Mathematics is a great entry point to Gardner’s oeuvre. It consists of what Gardner viewed as his 50 best Scientific American columns along with addenda containing updated material on each topic. With topics like topology, geometry, recreational mathematics, the infinite, and probability, each article is an informative, playful, well-written gem. 

Peter Winkler is famous for his collections of counterintuitive puzzles. Thousands of people, including me, have spent many sleepless nights trying to understand the mysteries in these puzzles, for which, I am forever grateful.

Haunting puzzles in the book include hats and infinity, all right or all wrong, comparing numbers version 1/2, wild guess, laser gun, precarious picture, names in boxes, sleeping beauty, and dot-town exodus.

Most puzzle books exclude counterintuitive puzzles for unknown reasons. So, many people incorrectly assume that counterintuitive puzzles are majorly found in paradoxes. Peter Winkler in this book shows that counterintuition can come from either puzzles or solutions or both, and they need not come from paradoxes alone.

Finally, reading Winkler's statements is an absolute delight due to its enjoyable and entertaining nature.

Anany Levitin introduced me to algorithmics – my second love (my first love is mathematics), through his legendary algorithmics textbook. He was one of my superheroes in my young adult life and he got me addicted to algorithms. His book is my favorite because it is beautifully organized based on design techniques, well-written, and uses nice puzzles to teach algorithms.

Levitin went much deeper and wrote this book on algorithmic puzzles. This book is the first mainstream book in the puzzle literature that taught beautiful algorithmic puzzles via various algorithm technique techniques. Levitin claimed several mathematical puzzles as algorithmic focusing on aspects of the solutions that are automatable.

Elegant puzzles (with extensive references) in this book that I have enjoyed include missionaries and cannibals, bridge crossing, circle of lights, MU puzzle, turning on a light bulb, chameleons, poisoned wine, game of life, twelve coins, fifteen puzzle, hats with numbers, and… show more.

The Four Color Problem was one of the most baffling questions in mathematics for over 120 years. First posed in 1852, it asks whether every map can be colored with four colors, or fewer, so that regions adjacent along a boundary have different colors. The answer (yes) was finally obtained in 1976, with massive computer assistance. This method was initially controversial, but the result is now firmly established. This highly readable account, with full-color illustrations, opens up the history and the personalities who tackled this topological enigma, as well as making the mathematics comprehensible. The path to the final solution is littered with blunders and mistakes, but also illustrates how mathematicians can join forces across the generations to chip away at a problem until it cracks wide open. 

I stumbled on this in a used bookstore. What a find! The old-school, kid-friendly illustrations lead swiftly from simple beginnings (“What happens when you stretch a painting?”) to the depths of undergraduate topology. I haven’t used this in the classroom yet, but honestly, I could imagine busting it out with anyone from first-graders to first-year PhD candidates.