Logicomix: An Epic Search for Truth
Apostolos Doxiadis and Christos H. Papadimitriou
Bloomsbury USA
When initially approached to write a review of the US edition of Apostolos Doxiadis and Christos Papadimitriou’s graphic novel, Logicomix: An Epic Search for Truth, I felt admittedly out of my league. My experience in the graphic novel genre, to this point, has included little more than recreational enjoyment of a sampling of the oeuvres of Alan Moore, Frank Miller, and Neil Gaiman—certainly, nothing to warrant critical insight. Further, I knew that I would really love this book—again, a barrier to critical insight.
To address this second concern and simultaneously qualify the grossness of my bias, two things are important to note: (1) I am well on my way to holding a PhD in mathematics; (2) Logicomix chronicles the biography of Bertrand Russell and several other mathematicians in the early 1900s. It is very literally a comic book populated by my superheroes. I had initial delusions that the authors penned such a book for me and three other people, maybe. A day after purchasing the novel, I learned that a friend had also purchased a copy in the previous week. Not surprisingly, he is also employed by my university’s math department. More importantly, I had found one other reader: another mathematician.
As expected, the actual reading of Logicomix brought great enjoyment. I was surprised, however, to find that it was a rather complex work. The story plays out in three different settings. In the first, the authors and illustrators have placed themselves in the book in their studio in Greece. (The book was first published there in October 2008.) They do this in a rather metacognitive, “Let’s investigate why anyone would endeavor to write a graphic novel whose main characters are logicians and mathematicians” sort of way. To me, the question is obvious. These men were awesome. For most everyone else, this plot device allows Logicomix to work on a level that does not require an advanced degree in mathematics. Consider two other sets of individuals: those interested in the graphic novel medium and those wishing to learn a bit more about mathematics. And if we’re to be rigorous, these sets are not mutually exclusive, that is, their intersection is non-empty.
Now I talk like this on a daily basis [push glasses up nose with index finger now], so I wouldn’t mind a graphic novel that requires a few years of graduate work. Perhaps I could embark on this task someday [push up glasses again… audible groan, mouth breathing]. For this reason, it was the second and third settings that drew far more interest for me. While the authors discuss the meaning of their novel, the larger work concerns the life of the mathematician cum logician Bertrand Russell. Setting #2: Russell lectures to a 1940s American audience upon the role that reason and logic should play in the decision for entry into the European fight against the Nazis. To accomplish such a weighty task, he entreats his audience to answer the question, “What is logic?” His mode of inquiry into this question is by way of an investigation of his own past. Herein lies the third setting: Russell’s life.
I’ll speak briefly to the second audience now: the graphic novel bibliophiles. As I mentioned before, I can’t feign too great an expertise in this area—thus, the brevity. What is unmistakable, however, is this: the authors use their medium to great advantage. They deftly weave together their three-pronged attack on logic and Russell’s life, cleverly mirroring panels between the historical segments and the bulletin boards in their own cartooned offices in Greece. Altogether, I am convinced that their concept could not function as successfully in a less visual format. Beyond this trait, any additional critique would be largely worthless (e.g. the drawing was nicely done, and I liked the pictures).
