The Canadian passion for Formula 1 racing, largely dormant since Gilles Villeneuve’s fatal crash in 1982, was suddenly reawakened last year when a small, quiet, almost scholarly young Québécois made his spectacular debut at the Australian Grand Prix.

Jacques Villeneuve was only 11 when his father died, and he spent much of his childhood at a Swiss boarding school far away from the international auto-racing circuit. In this surprisingly engrossing book about a strangely captivating sport, he makes only passing reference to his father, a driver famed for pushing speed to the limits. Instead, the younger Villeneuve (in tandem with British sportswriter Gerald Donaldson) makes it clear that he is very much his own man, as placid and calm as his father was flamboyant.

At the age of 25, in his rookie season in Formula 1 after a short but sensational Indy Car career, Jacques Villeneuve attracted the largest crowd ever assembled for a Canadian sports event to the Canadian Grand Prix in Montreal. He won three events that Formula 1 season, quickly built a reputation for bold and imaginative driving, and finished a close second in points standings to Williams-Renault teammate Damon Hill. His potential seems so unbounded that Williams-Renault dismissed Hill at the end of the season, an awkward subject left untouched in this risk-free book.

But while the photo-heavy Villeneuve: My First Year in Formula 1 is necessarily selective in its choice of subject matter, it’s much less superficial than most such instant sports bios. The thoughtful Villeneuve – a great sci-fi reader and computer-game player – talks fluently about the many and varied challenges of Formula 1, from the frantic multilingual press conferences (he speaks excellent French, English, and Italian) to the problems caused by spraying champagne around the victory podium when you’re wearing contact lenses.

Formula 1 is the most technological of sports, and Villeneuve patiently explains the computerized relationship a driver has with his car and his crew. But he also makes abundantly clear in steady, amiable narrative that the prizes are won by drivers who can go beyond the data display to take the most creative risks. The strength of Villeneuve’s appeal to novice fans is that he comes across as anything but a “car nut.” He never kept racing posters on his wall as a child, he hates the noise of auto-racing, and he can’t even repair a car properly. This refusal to be obsessed has earned him a reputation as an eccentric on the Formula 1 circuit but for newcomers to the sport it makes his book that much more endearing.