I felt that "The Maniac" is a bold, intellectually charged novel that defies easy categorization. It traces the arc of scientific ambition, genius, and madness—centering on John von Neumann while weaving in a tapestry of other brilliant (and sometimes tormented) minds who have shaped the 20th and 21st centuries. This follows from his previous book "When we cease to understand the world" that followed the same pattern of "Fiction based on facts". I did not like this angle though.
The book is at once compelling and disturbing. The author's storytelling is masterful; he has a gift for turning abstract and technical concepts—game theory, quantum mechanics, AI—into vivid, human drama. His language is lyrical, often poetic, and he injects emotional depth into topics that might otherwise feel cold or cerebral. The psychological and philosophical weight of the subject matter—humanity’s increasing entanglement with machines of its own creation—is made hauntingly real.
The research behind the book is equally impressive. From early developments in computing to AlphaGo’s legendary 2016 match against Lee Sedol, the author touches on key moments in the scientific narrative with apparent fluency and insight. He draws connections across disciplines, eras, and personalities, and in doing so he brings the grandeur and cost of intellectual pursuit into sharp focus.
That said, the book walks a fine and often frustrating line between fact and fiction. The author has been clear that The Maniac is not a biography or a history, but rather a novel "inspired" by real events. The problem is, for a reader unfamiliar with the precise histories of von Neumann, Gödel, Turing, or even AlphaZero, it becomes difficult to know where the truth ends and imagination begins. The blending of fact with speculative detail is done seamlessly—but perhaps too seamlessly.
As someone interested in the real history of these towering figures and transformative technologies, I found myself frequently wondering: Did this really happen? Did they really say that? The author offers no notes, no disclaimers, no guidance. And while that’s a deliberate artistic choice, it may alienate readers looking for a clearer line between historical record and fictional elaboration.
All that said and done, The Maniac is a provocative and beautifully written book that asks big questions and paints a vivid portrait of minds that changed the world. But it leaves a lingering unease—especially for those of us who wish to distinguish the poetry of imagination from the precision of truth.