Consisting of four essays and an interview with Louwrien Wijers, On Creativity provides a clear window into the ruminations of physicist David Bohm. Author of a textbook on quantum mechanics, Bohm is best known for his speculations on "the implicate order," a world view which draws on quantum mechanics in an attempt to go behind colleague Niels Bohr's "Copenhagen Interpretation"-to wit, that the mathematics of quantum theory, which lead to paradoxes in the macroscopic realm, should not be construed as anything more than mathematical treatments that work. This view, or rather non-view, was not acceptable to Einstein. The basic solution of Bohm is to suggest that our entire three-dimensional reality, which shows evidence of nonlocality-the instantaneous measurable correlation of attributes of distant particles-is a projection of a deeper "enfolded" realm. These essays, however, with titles such as "On creativity," "On the relationships of science and art," "The range of imagination," and "The art of perceiving movement" are not overly recondite, abstruse, or abstract-let alone mathematical. In On Creativity, for example, Bohr analyzes what makes not just a great, but a truly original scientist, such as Newton and Einstein (with whom Bohm corresponded). Perhaps surprisingly, he includes Helen Keller and her teacher Anne Sullivan in their company. The reason has to do with Bohm's emphasis on an open-minded attitude, free of worldly obsessions such as career advancement or "kicks," that allows the truly creative mind to bust through societal blinders and see the world as a whole in a new way. In the case of Sullivan she exposed Keller, deaf and blind from birth, to water in a variety of settings, writing the word on her hand. At a given point, Keller, who was animalistic before, put the different stimuli together, seeing their underlying unity. This is the kind of unity that Bohr argues Newton discovered in his realization that planets, like apples, fall-only much more slowly-a view that dispensed with the prevailing notions of the Greeks, who distinguished between the perfection of the celestial, and the imperfection of the earthly realm. Einstein went further, showing that seemingly equidistant and simultaneous times and places really depended upon the relationship of observers to observed. What is wonderful about Bohm is that he is deeply immersed in and respectful of, art and philosophy and religion. A close friend of Krishnamurti, he relates the work of Hegelian philosophy and Coleridgian poetics to scientific inquiry; he says he personally was inspired by artists. For example, in the essay, "The Range of Imagination," he attempts to link art to science by starting with Owen Barfield's analysis of Coleridge's distinction between two kinds of imagination-primary imagination and fancy. Although they are linked-mutually implicated is as everything else in Bohm's implicate universe-the primary imagination is much more than just putting things together in pleasing shapes. Perhaps the single biggest insight in this book, which everywhere battles what Bohm considers to be the deleterious effects of fragmentation (and mediocrity, conformity, and "the mechanical") in thinking, is his emphasis that, in great art, no less than great science, the truth is not necessarily what is liked. The truth is what we find *whether we like it or not*--and this scientific spirit needs to apply to art as well. In a way, however, this brilliant exposition creates a contradiction for Bohm, as he elsewhere identifies the true with the beautiful (in large part due to the aesthetic criterion of elegance for choosing among competing world views and mathematical theories). The book might also be criticized for being stylistically bland even as it sings the praises of art, as well as perhaps politically naive in tracing human malaise to an abstraction so great as "the fragmentary." Nonetheless, this work is highly recommended for its analysis of the fascinating, still woefully underexplored terrain connecting art and science.