The first time I heard about Grigory Perelman had been in 2012, through Sujan, but I have since forgotten all about it. I stumbled on this extraordinary mathematician's story most recently in March 2014 when the good folks of HN upvoted and brought to the front page a New Yorker article about him.
That article pointed me to Perfect Rigour, an unofficial biography of Perelman. That the author, Masha Gessen (a mathematician herself), never met Perelman did not stop me from purchasing the outrageously-costly book. Perelman's character was that of intrigue: he shunned almost every award that came his way, he shunned publicity ruthlessly, he shunned relationships with his own fraternity to the point of turning into what appears from the outside to be a reclusive, reticent and, often, impolite personality.
The New Yorker article paints a subtle picture of Perelman, the recluse. I imagined that Perfect Rigour would build upon that.
Wrong.
Masha narrates a tale not just of Perelman but of the ambiance he grew up in, of the environment he flourished in and of the circumstances he brewed his unique, intensely-focused mathematical intellect in. The biography is interesting. Very interesting, in fact. She has wonderfully built upon the countless hours of interviews with people who had come in contact with Perelman at various points of their lives. She has woven a narrative that never falters from its premise and where it takes lengthy detours, it has perfect reasons and connectivity to do so.
But where it finally dealt the blow was in Masha's opinions about Perelman. The reasons she supplies for his abnormal behavior towards the end of the book, which incidentally marks the end of the debate on the authorship of the proof of the century-old Poincare conjecture, seems misguided or misread.
Now, obviously, it seems absurd and preposterous to posit such a thing. She has spoken to several people who have dealt with Perelman directly and I have nothing but a few articles, a Wikipedia entry and her book. But in the narrative, she has largely crafted a fact-reporting which, neutral though it may not seem in some places, helps and subconsciously encourages you to build your version of the reasons of Perelman's behavior. Where we differ is in the conclusion.
Somehow, the Perelman of Manifold Destiny and that of Perfect Rigour seem to be different mathematicians. And that's an unsettling point tonight as I finish Masha's book.
By the end of the book, Masha speaks of Perelman as if he was expecting the mathematical world to treat him as a sole champion, as the perfect intellect amidst imperfect human minds. Her description of Perelman's refusal of the Fields Medal and then subsequently of the Clay Institute's prize money paint a negative picture of the man.
That is a conclusion hard to stomach. Perelman, as all other literature seems to point out, was a pure mathematician who had no inclination towards publicity, felicity, recognition or fame. Or money, for that matter. In that sense, his denial of Fields Medal and of the Clay prize money must have been for consistent purposes. His reclusive habit and his view of mathematics, responsibility of a mathematician are all enough to warrant such a reaction. To opine that he felt belittled by the prize or by the fact that three other mathematicians were awarded Fields Medal along with him (which he declined anyway) seems to be out of track.
Perfect Rigour is an otherwise wonderful narrative. Mathematicians may not benefit as much from it as someone who leans towards narratives and the story behind intriguing characters.