
One of the towering figures of twentieth-century science, Richard Feynman possessed a curiosity that was the stuff of legend. Even before he won the Nobel Prize in 1965, his unorthodox and spellbinding lectures on physics secured his reputation amongst students and seekers around the world. It was his outsized love for life, however, that earned him the status of an American cultural icon--here was an extraordinary intellect devoted to the proposition that the thrill of discovery was matched only by the joy of communicating it to others. In this career-spanning collection of letters, many published here for the first time, we are able to see this side of Feynman like never before. As edited and annotated by his daughter, Michelle, these letters not only allow us to better grasp the how and why of Feynman's enduring appeal, but also to see the virtues of an inquiring eye in spectacular fashion. The result is a wonderful de facto guide to life, an eloquent testimony to the human quest for knowledge at all levels.
I've always admired Feynman's ability and perseverance to "see" something immediately as opposed to doing the long and drawn out calculations that are a badge of honor among engineering grads. Actually he mentioned this need to "see" through problems in one of his stories with John Wheeler who was able to immediately understand the ideas of self-action of an electron that Feynman was presenting with equations were just describing reflected light.
I imagine that in this case, Feynman saw immediately what problems the student was grappling with and had the words to communicate those thoughts in an unpretentious way. It certainly struck a chord with me.
http://johnen.shinshu-u.ac.jp/~mano/profile_e.html
The letter is from an excellent collection of Feynman letters, "Perfectly Reasonable Deviations from the Beaten Track". There's a thoughtful review of the entire collection (by Freeman Dyson) here:
http://www.nybooks.com/articles/archives/2005/oct/20/wise-ma...
Also reminds me of one of Feynman's anecdotes where he mentions that his dad was really involved in educating him:
"My father taught me continuity and harmony in the world. He didn't know anything exactly, whether the insect had eight legs or a hundred legs, but he understood everything. And I was interested because there was always this kick at the end-a revelation of how wonderful nature really is." (from "Perfectly Reasonable Deviations from the Beaten Track", an awesome book).
The beginning of the book contained a lot of cute letters between him and his wife Arline. I was curious how much of the book would be this, considering I know she died of TB, so I flipped ahead and saw a letter to her quite a few more pages in, so I figured she must survive until at least that point. I continued reading and was emotionally caught off guard when she died only a couple of pages later. I'm not sure why I was so distraught at the death of someone I did not know who died 80 years ago, but I was looking forward to, and had the expectation of, a few more cute letters between them.
When I got to the letter that I had originally flipped to, it was the one he was writing after her death as a form of therapy to himself.
FWIW, they had a very cute relationship and the letters are worth reading for that alone.