Simplexity: Why Simple Things Become
    Complex (and How Complex Things Can Be
    Made Simple)
    By Jeffrey Kluger
    Hyperion, $25.95 (352 pages)

Frustrated by the traffic on narrow bridges? Stunned by the
number of buttons on a remote control? Saddened by the lack of
basic medical care in the developing world? Kluger (Splendid
Solution) makes the modern world comprehensible, analyzing
social and technological systems to reveal that “things that seem
complicated can be preposterously simple; things that seem simple
can be dizzyingly complex.” He compares cells to cities to stock
markets, renders quarks and fractals accessible and draws
parallels between Wal-Mart and AIDS clinics in Tanzania. Although
Kluger is prone to hyperbole, his astonishing discoveries require
no exaggeration: the book describes how even the most
technologically advanced manufacturing plant is infinitely simpler
than a humble houseplant “with its microhydraulics and fine-tuned
metabolism and dense schematic of nucleic acids”—and baseball
fans will be dismayed to discover that football is, in fact, the more
complex of the two games: “the possible number of starting
configurations before the play even begins is... 31.4 billion.”  
Kluger's findings are likely to incite controversy, confirming his
contention that explaining simplicity and complexity is never as
straightforward as it seems. (Publishers Weekly, April 2008)






    Yes, simplexity is a new
    word—a whole new theory,
    in fact. In essence,
simplexity holds that simple things become more complex (even
unnecessarily complex) over time, while complex things can
become (or be made) simpler. OK, so that sounds rather blindingly
obvious: who, for example, hasn’t shaken his head at the sheer
verbiage of cell phone or camera instructions But here Kluger,
coauthor of the bestselling Lost Moon (1994), which became the
film Apollo 13, doesn’t merely trot out examples of simple things
that became complex, and complex things that were simplified; he
explores how they got that way and why Instructions, for example,
are complicated because the products themselves can do so many
different things—the consumer’s demand for flexibility leads to
complexity. Simplexity, the theory, is intriguing and plausible.
Simplexity, the book, is a study of human behavior, and the way we
perceive things and events, and how our perception frequently
causes us to make wrong assumptions and to perceive simplicity
(or complexity) where it does not exist. The book is sure to be a
deserved hit among the ever-growing Freakonomics crowd.
(Booklist, June 2008)





    Time magazine writer Kluger
    (Splendid Solution) here
    introduces us to the concept of
    simplexity—-the notion that
    seemingly complex things can be
    more simple than they appear and
that, alternately, seemingly simple things can be more complex
than they appear. Like Malcolm Gladwell in The Tipping Point, he
uses a single idea to offer readers a peek inside a wide variety of
familiar occurrences, taking us on a fascinating journey. Kluger
introduces readers to the relatively new field of complexity science,
drawing examples from current projects of the Santa Fe Institute,
the interdisciplinary scientific research center founded by Nobel
laureate Murray Gell-Mann. Following the work of this and other
scientists, he explains the complexity and simplicity of phenomena
such as why it takes so long for a group of people to leave a
burning building, why we're more likely to worry about things that
probably won't kill us than about the things that probably will, and
why the operating systems in our cell phones are so difficult to
master. Though the chapters are only loosely held together, this
book is sure to appeal to a broad audience. Recommended for
public libraries. (Library Journal, June 2008)









We live in an increasingly technological world in which our lives are
complicated by devices that are supposed to make our lives better
in some meaningful way. You know there must be something
seriously awry when a computer scientist who trained at the
revered Massachusetts Institute of Technology admits there are
days when he is "freaked out" by his computer.

The new concept of simplexity is getting increasing play. The idea
is banally simple: Simple things can be more complex than they
seem, and complex things more simple. But Jeffrey Kluger believes
that by beginning to understand the patterns and processes that
shape our world and beyond, we will look differently at familiar
things and become better equipped to make reasoned choices.

As an introductory exercise, he suggests, consider a guppy and a
star. Which is the more complex?

Surprisingly, it is not the star, which he calls "just a furnace, a
vulgar cosmic engine" that streaks across the heavens to little
purpose. Rather, it is the guppy, "a symphony of systems—
circulatory, skeletal, optical, neurological, hematological,
metabolic, auditory, respiratory, olfactory, enzymatic, reproductive,
biomechanical, behavioural, social."

The book is full of challenging ideas. It suggests, among other
things, that stock market movements follow a similar pattern to that
observed of gas molecules in a box, and that low-status jobs such
as those of a trucker require far more skills than those needed to
act as a CEO.

This is also a reassuring book for anyone who has ever struggled
with an instruction manual—i. e., most of us living in the early 21st
century. Quite apart from the fact such a document is usually
written in a language that shares no characteristics with English,
except that it uses the same words, it usually ends up bewildering
the unfortunate purchaser. A Dutch study found most people tried
to make their new gizmo work for 20 minutes before abandoning
the attempt.

Electronics retailers have been quick to sense a business
opportunity—just as you can pay to have your barbecue
assembled, you can hire a computer technician to get your new
machine up and running.

Whatever happened to the days of plug and play?

As Mr. Kluger explains it, there are two culprits. First is the
increasing complexity of the devices themselves. The manual for
my new digital camera lists 10 shooting modes and myriad other
options. But the only one I use is the one that requires no fiddling
around—auto, of course.

Second, the software engineers—the same people who designed
the device—are the ones who write the manual. They assume
everyone is technically savvy and will be enthused by all the nifty
tasks it can perform.

Then there are those who demand complexity. South Koreans, for
example, believe the more buttons, the more enviable the device is.

There is hope, the author claims, though it is far away. There is a
device in development called the Bar of Soap, which can function
as a cellphone, camera, digital assistant, Web browser and e-mail
hub. It works by being able to transform itself, via touch sensors
and LCD panels, into a device with the appropriate controls for the
chosen function. Hold it up, it becomes a camera. Punch in
numbers, and it's transmuted into a cellphone.

It can't come soon enough. (National Post, July 2008)
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