The George B. Pegram Lecture Series at the Brookhaven National Laboratory provides an opportunity for distinguished scholars to examine the interaction between science and other aspects of our culture and society. In his captivating, humanistic account of chemistry--the science of molecules--1981 Nobel chemistry laureate and 1990 Pegram lecturer Roald Hoffmann presents for layperson and scientist alike a penetrating insider's view of the central science with clarity and down-to-earth explanation in inspired prose that verges on poetry (He is the author of two critically acclaimed volumes of poems). Expertly weaving together a myriad of examples and case studies from the worlds of art, literature, philosophy, science, technology, history, mythology, economics, culture, and politics, he not only places the creative activity of chemists in a rich, human context, but he also simultaneously discusses most of the basic fundamentals of chemistry, its practice, and development in a unique, original, and lucid manner that should appeal to those with little or no scientific training.

In 51 chapters ranging in length from less than a page to 10 pages Hoffmann convincingly argues that chemistry is interesting, both to its practitioners and to the consumers of its products, because of its inherent tensions, dualities, or ambivalences, which are balanced precariously between polar extremes. He maintains that the polarities of substances--the domain of chemistry--"resonates with forces deep in our psyche" and form "a link between the chemist and nonchemist." In so doing, he brings passion and illumination to a science with an undeserved reputation among the public for dullness, inaccessibility, and danger.

The most important polarity--that of identity or purity--is reflected in the book's title, and Hoffmann cites molecules made of elements that exist in a mixture of isotopes as "a wonderful example of the same and not the same." Other dualities explored include, but are not limited to, synthesis/analysis (the heart of chemistry); risk/benefit; static/dynamic; creation/discovery (Hoffmann effectively refutes the cliche that scientists merely "discover," while artists "create."); natural/unnatural; reveal/conceal; artistic/scientific; reductionism/holism; ideal/real (e.g., structure/structural formula); and dispassionate/impassioned. Hoffmann depicts chemistry not as a boring collection of facts but as a lively process carried out by fallible human beings with varied motivations.

Hoffmann answers fundamental questions that have traditionally mystified the layperson, such as: "What does a chemist really do? Why does he do it? How does he do it? (A variety of modern instruments are described and explained.) How does he describe his results?" (One of the book's 10 parts, "The Way It Is Told," deals with the scientific article ("a literary, therefore artistic, creation"); its structure and shortcomings; and the peer review process. As might be expected from a protege of Robert B. Woodward, Hoffmann devotes another part, "Making Molecules," to synthesis, which "puts chemistry very close to the arts." Part Four, "When Something Goes Wrong," assesses the thalidomide tragedy and offers a compelling personal statement of the social responsibility of scientists. Part Five, "How, Just Exactly, Does It Happen?", introduced by a Rube Goldberg cartoon, deals with the study of mechanisms--"a textbook case for the application of the scientific method," while Part Six, "A Life in Chemistry," is devoted to one of Hoffmann's chemical heroes, Fritz Haber, himself a mixture of opposites. Part Seven, "That Certain Magic," deals with catalysis, enzymes, and automobile exhaust pollution. Part Eight, "Value, Harm, and Democracy," deals not only with factual risk assessment but also with the usually neglected psychological and often subjective risk perception.

Hoffmann strives for balance in facing urgent ecological and environmental concerns such as the deterioration of the ozone layer. He argues that taking the view that even if we do not know, someone else knows is naive, unscientific, and undemocratic. Because the citizens of the city-states of ancient Greece felt themselves able to judge, no matter how technical the matter, he speculates on how Classical Athens might have dealt with the Alar scare. Some of his conclusions are controversial but carefully reasoned. He warns that reductionism, the guiding ideology of science, can be a "psychological crutch" and "a potential danger to the discourse of scientists with the rest of society." He attributes the public's great interest in the few cases of fraud in science to the fact that "we have built up our image, self-servingly so, as priests of truth" rather than as "creative artists," and he states that "Once [scientists] enter the arena, they are no better than others engaged in politics."

Because Hoffmann has been preoccupied for some time with many of the themes in this provocatively personal, but universally appealing, book, some of the chapters are adapted from his previously published books or lectures or articles in scientific or literary journals or magazines that may not be readily accessible. However, this beautiful volume is so meticulously constructed that each chapter flows naturally and logically into the next. The 121 full color or black and white photographs and drawings are not only pertinent but apparently have been selected for their esthetic appeal as well. In addition to structures and equations, they include Lascaux cave paintings, a Donald Duck cartoon, the Aganippe Fountain at MillesgŒrden near Stockholm, a Tchaikovsky operatic score, a Goya drawing, a "cutaway" of a catalytic converter, and garlic bread, "one of the delights of life." With this witty, profound, and inexpensive book, printed on heavy, durable, acid-free, glossy paper--a feast for the eye as well as the mind, Hoffmann has captured the excitement of chemistry and presented it as a committed artist fully enjoying his art. He has done for chemistry what Stephen Hawking has done for cosmology.