How could anyone enjoy Cédric Villani’s ‘Birth of a Theorem’? I think I’ve worked it out

I’ve got a mathematical problem. Birth of a Theorem is by one of the great geniuses of today, a cosmopolitan, liberal-minded man who helps his wife look after their children, likes big-hearted folk songs, welcomes diversity and wears the same jewellery as I do. But as a contribution to the genre of popular maths, the book stinks.

To give the problem extra calculus, my favourite maths writer is a sour-faced white supremacist with a mouth the shape of staple, who thinks women in America should be deprived of the vote and apparently calls himself ‘Derb’. An honest reviewer should obey his prejudices, so I’ve tried to find a way to cover up my dislike of Cédric Villani’s book, just as I tried to find a way I could slag off John Derbyshire’s excellent Prime Obsession (about the Riemann Hypothesis) when it came out. It’s not possible. There’s hardly a chapter in Birth of a Theorem that I could enjoy.