Link : Detailed Book Summary(pdf) Takeaway: Imagine that you were using a clunky and a painful email service and suddenly one day you are shown gmail. Aren’t you thrilled ?. It’s elegant, quick and has a ton intuitive features. I had the same feeling with knitr after having painfully used Sweave for a long time. I am certain that this package will stand out as the goto package for literate programming for a very long time to come because it is elegant, quick and has features that you were always trying to patch in via other packages.

This book is written by Ustad Alauddin Khan’s great grand daughter, Sahana. She narrates the story of Ustad Alauddin Khan piecing together various handwritten manuscripts and stories from her grandparents house. Tracing the family tree, Sahana discovers that Alauddin Khan’s ancestors were actually Hindus. Somewhere along the way, one of his ancestors converted to Islam and married a Muslim. AK’s father was a Sitar player and the music rubbed on to AK from a very young age.

Here is the author’s bio from his website : Tom Heany has been involved with musician his whole life, as a student, a teacher, a player, a writer and, yes, a practicer - for 13,000 hours, give or take a few.For 18 years he was the Director of Programming for the National Music Foundation, where he developed and ran the American Music Education Initiative and the Berkshire Music Festival. As a contributing editor for the National Guitar Workshop, he wrote about musical subjects ranging from the Grammy Awards to Tuvan throat-singing.

This book is about a set of letters exchanged between Pascal and Fermat in the year 1654 that led to a completely different way of looking at future. The main content of the letters revolved around solving a particular problem, called “problem of points”. A simpler version of the problem goes like this: Suppose two players—call them Blaise and Pierre—place equal bets on who will win the best of five tosses of a fair coin.

Happy the man, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire; Whose trees in summer yield shade, In winter, fire. Blest, who can unconcern’dly find Hours, days, and years, slide soft away In health of body, peace of mind, Quiet by day. Sound sleep by night; study and ease