I recently finished reading "Noise", by Bart Kosko. At least, I think I finished it. The book didn't really end. It just sort of stopped.
Bart Kosko is an electrical engineering professor at USC. He has written books on topics like fuzzy logic (not to be confused with wooly thinking). This book is on noise, as opposed to signal, but taken in the broad (sometimes metaphorical) sense.
So, we learn about things like how "urban great tits" (sic) sing at higher minimum frequencies in urban areas, just to be heard over all the clatter of the city. Or that a humpback whale song can be 170 decibels loud in water, not quite as loud as a rocket engine, but louder than a jet engine or a 12 gauge shotgun (kind of blows their New Age image, for me). Or that the actress Hedy Lamarr was co-inventor (with a composer and writer named George Antheil) of frequency-hopping spread spectrum communication, despite neither she nor Antheil having any formal background or experience in related fields.
Some portions of the book are accessible to those without an engineering education/interest. There are a few parts you may want to skim, if (for example) the idea that much of the "real world" noise that engineers assume is Gaussian, may really be Cauchian, is not one which seems to you worth spending some time to consider.
But, put another way, it's less abstract. Gaussian noise assumes that the random, background stuff is distributed like a bell, with a tiny bit of a flare. The widest part of the bell isn't all that wider than the middle part. That kind of noise is like wind noise on the beach at night.
Cauchian noise assumes that random, background stuff has occasional weirdness, that's way different than the normal stuff. Sometimes this is called "popcorn noise", because (like popcorn popping) there are occasional random events that are way bigger than the norm. If IQ's were distributed this way (instead of with a Gaussian curve), we'd find an occasional person with an IQ of 500.
But, if we design everything with normal noise in mind, and what we get is popcorn noise instead, we could be in trouble. Which is where I thought Kosko was headed with this book. Instead, he takes a kind of aimless walk through a bunch of topics on noise, then stops. Not stops the aimlessness, just stops the book.
I was taken by surprise by its end in part because, after 160 pages of text, there's 90 pages of notes at the end, so the thickness of book left made me think we weren't close to done. Maybe it's a self-referential joke, to have such an unpredictable end? Maybe he ran out of steam, and it was time to close the thing and collect the paycheck? Maybe the topic of noise is inherently hard to organize into a coherent narrative?
No matter, I liked the book anyway. Consider it bad branding: this is actually a book of essays on the topic of noise, incorrectly labeled as chapters. Enjoy the one about the difference between pink noise and brown noise, or why white noise is impossible. Read about the student who, for one of Kosko's classes, designed a device to cancel the noise in his apartment when the nearby school let the kids out for recess (and fantasize about buying such a device). Then, whenever Kosko runs out of topics to tell you about, just stop.