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Matching up your socks? Heading to the supermarket? Searching for that perfect item in a sale? It turns out that the most mindless of tasks could be improved if we applied what we know about algorithms to our daily lives. If you’re the kind of person who gets a thrill from saving a few precious minutes, Ali Almossawi will show you how in (John Murray). The advanced terminology makes his narration tough going at times, and I predict that some will find his illustrated examples a tad cloying, but I did apply his sock technique almost immediately. This is a book to dip in and out of rather than consume in a single sitting.

Along similar lines, (Princeton University Press) also attempts to demonstrate how mathematics can yield powerful insights into everyday life. While its author, Oscar Fernandez, also pulls few punches – diving straight into non-linear equations, independent variables and polynomials – the result is something a little more tangible. This is not for the weak-willed, but someone with a robust desire to make serious changes in their life, or an interest in maths, will find much to consume in a book that teaches you how best to lose weight, how to build a sensible investment portfolio and even how to find the love of your life.

A cut above

May saw the launch of two books that reveal what happens as we slip into oblivion upon the operating table. (Weidenfeld & Nicolson) is the most brutally honest of the two, in which Henry Marsh (author of bestseller Do No Harm), reflects on 40 years in brain surgery. Marsh’s robust belief in the efficacy of his trade was learned the hard way: he recalls, for instance, that timidness early on in his career resulted in the deaths of two young women. And he was, Marsh admits, the worst offender when it came to living up to the reputation of surgeons as aloof and uncooperative.

He even reflects upon a moment in which, in an explosion of rage, he took a nurse’s nose between his thumb and index finger “and tweaked it angrily”. But among the lows there are many highs, and many unique insights into the overwhelming responsibility that can come with reducing human suffering. Marsh’s memoir takes us on a journey through the bureaucracy that stains the UK’s National Health Service, to a kidnapping in Nepal, to buckets of brains lying in a surgical ward in the Ukraine. Marsh may be arrogant at times, but he is clearly a brilliant neurosurgeon, and a wonderful writer.

The second surgical offering is (Basic Books). Through the stories of his most memorable patients, author Stephen Westaby demonstrates how “determined detachment” is crucial in a job where failure so often results in death. Whether he is peeking for the first time at a living heart as a student in the 1960s, or performing cutting-edge operations in the new millennium, Westaby makes us constantly aware of that narrow margin between life and death. HIs ingenuity and bravery in trialling new techniques is to be admired throughout the book, but it should come with a warning label: read within reach of a tissue or two.

Frame of mind

Looking for something a little lighter, I happened upon (William Collins) by comedian Robert Newman. This book claims to dispel some of the myths often purported by other neuroscience books. It’s a worthy goal, but Newman’s disdain for many of the top researchers in the field is fierce and somewhat unexplained. Many of our much-loved scientists, including V. S. Ramachandran, David Eagleman and Brian Cox are targeted. Obviously, scientists shouldn’t be immune to criticism, but many of Newman’s arguments revealed either a lack of research or a misguided understanding of the subject matter. I commend his attempt to banish neurowaffle and stimulate debate about the limits of MRIs, AI and transhumanism, particularly since he does so with an injection of genuine wit. He just didn’t convince me that he was the right person for the job.

For a more enlightened view of the brain, try (William Collins) by Mariano Sigman, founder of the at the University of Buenos Aires, Argentina. His diverse subject matter covers old and new territory: find out how moral babies are, how to make The Beatles sound sour and how your choice of music can influence how fast you drive. Sigman assumes no prior knowledge, guiding you from the whole brain to its smallest parts the further you head into the book. It’s full of practical advice, and peppered with historical context and fascinating scientific trials. Good books already exist that focus on his many subjects in greater detail (Blink by Malcolm Gladwell, for instance). Nevertheless, Sigman presents an enjoyable overview of the most mysterious aspects of the mind, and it will leave you feeling much smarter, and a little clearer about how we think, reason and communicate.

If you’re still not short of time or interest in the brain, you might want to take a peek at Joseph Jebelli’s (John Murray), in which he reveals the history and humanity behind an epidemic that affects 44 million people worldwide. Jebelli’s tale is personal: as a boy, he watched his grandfather descend into a dementia that left him unrecognisable. Along with Jebelli’s own work, he identifies many key areas of research and explores the key characters that play a part in our understanding of the disease. Unfortunately, the more we understand, the more complex the disease becomes. The problem isn’t solved, says Jebelli, but we are getting closer. “It truly is the beginning of the end.”