Live in or near London and interested in reading lab lit — novels about science or scientists? It’s never too late to join Fiction Lab, our monthly geeky book club at the Royal Institution.
Last Monday we dispatched our first book of 2009 — This Thing of Darkness by Harry Thompson, a Patrick O’Brien-esque tale of the voyage of the Beagle told primarily from the point of view of its troubled, intelligent gentleman captain, Robert FitzRoy. The book got fairly good marks from our snarling den of hard-to-please hyenas (you know who you are), though weighing in at about 900 pages was not seen as an asset. Nevertheless, our most negative member was as usual not impressed: he thought the book was ‘naval porn’ and should have been retitled This Thing of Dreariness. Also, the prevailing view was that Darwin was made out to be a two-dimensional caricature, as if the author was so interested in showing us the mortal behind the godlike reputation that he over-compensated just a wee bit and made him into a crashing bore.
Nevertheless, most of us agreed that the portrayal of the voyage was vivid and engaging. One lass, bless her, hadn’t read the book and knew nothing about Fiction Lab but showed up on the night solely because she’d been round to see the current exhibition at the Natural History Museum, was baffled at how all those specimens could possibly have fit on such a small ship and wanted to learn more. (The answer? Crates were shipped off at every port of call.)
For the record, though it certainly ended tragically, I liked the book and felt I learned a lot. And I appreciated the occasional touches of humor. My favorite phrase from the book? “The poop deck was cleared of tortoises”.
Because of our late start this year, time is getting short, but you still have time to buy and read next month’s book, The Behaviour of Moths by Poppy Adams – especially as it is only 305 pages in a lovely large font.
The novel, it is said, invites us into the world of two elderly sisters who have not seen each other for decades, reunited in the sinister old family home. Ginny, a recluse who never leaves the house and survives by gradually selling off the family furniture, also happens to be the world’s foremost expert on moths. When her sister Vivi comes to visit, a dark family secret gradually emerges from a network of flashbacks and childhood memories. Why has Vivi chosen to return after 47 years? Can everything that Ginny remembers about their childhood actually be trusted? And what is she trying to hide in the attic?
I’ve only just started, but already have a feeling that this might be one more for the ladies — which is not necessarily a bad thing after 900 page of hoisting the mainsail and hosing down the barnacles. I’m fairly certain it’s going to be what I call ‘lab lit lite’, with the science pretty peripheral to the overall story, but after a few pages, I want to keep reading. The author, a science documentary maker for the BBC and Channel 4, lives in London, but so far her agency has resisted the charms of my various email attempts to invite her along on the night – I’ll keep you posted! In the meantime, buy yourself a copy and join us at 7 PM on 2 February.
Note added in proof: I see that Nature Network still hasn’t fixed the bug that prevents us from posting urls that have ampersands in them, but if you google the RI and then type the name of the novel into the search box, the relevant Fiction Lab page will come up. How deliciously old-fashioned!
You do realize that the Fiction Lab is the only reason I’m returning to London.
laughs
Why do I get the feeling you might be in with the hyena camp?
Me? I seem to remember defending Watchmen, at least.
It’s never too late to join Fiction Lab, our monthly geeky book club at the Royal Institution.
Too bad it’s in early February; otherwise, I would have loved to attend. I’m staying with friends in Cambridge during the week prior to CISB, and it’s easy enough to travel to London by train for an evening. Perhaps I’ll read the book, in any case – it sounds entertaining.
It’s a pity you can’t make it, Kristi, but let me know what you think of the book. I’m already prepared to be skeptical on one point: can the world’s leading lepidopterist really also be a recluse who never leaves her house? Wouldn’t you need to travel to collect specimens and attend conferences publicizing up your theory? In the first few pages we learn that Ginny comes from a very long line of famous moth experts, so perhaps it is believable. We’ll see. The novel I”m writing at the moment has a reclusive scientist character, but he’s got a younger colleague/scientific partner who acts as the interface with the outside world — and his work is entirely theoretical.
can the world’s leading lepidopterist really also be a recluse who never leaves her house?
but that’s a trope, innit? The world’s leading who never leaves her house. Classic.
It was only 729 pages! And they whizzed by!
And, linking the 2 books, isn’t Darwin a good example of a recluse who still managed to be a bit of an expert?
except he actually travelled, I believe.
That’s so funny, Stephen – in my head it was 900, and it felt like 900. Just goes to show how the mind plays tricks!
In what way was Darwin a recluse?
Well, apart from the one aberration of the Beagle voyage, he spent most of the remainder of his time at Downe House, not even traveling up to London. He even set up a mirror by his front door (early CCTV?) so he could screen callers to the house. On the other hand, he did write a few thousand letters, so he wasn’t averse to communicating with people.
I guess one could easily be a reclusive scientist providing one had had sufficient experiences/samples collected. I am now seeing a parallel between this and writing fiction — the reclusive writer is also a trope, but he also needs to have experienced the world first to be effective. (It’s not clear from what I’ve read so far of the Adams book, but she may have had some moth experiences before whatever trauma it was that caused her to retreat.)
Ordination candidates similarly are advised to get a real job first.
There’s a pattern, isn’t there? Perhaps we’re programmed to become hermits. Was ever someone born a hermit?
can the world’s leading lepidopterist really also be a recluse who never leaves her house?
Well, a synesthete and modernist novelist can also be a respected lepidopterist, so … maybe??
As an aside, I think that Thomas Pynchon’s Against the Day might fit in the lab lit genre. An argument could also be made for Gravity’s Rainbow.
Maybe it’s just me, but I feel a scientist will always be a better scientist if she can get out there and interact with other scientists – talk, chat, argue (especially argue), witness the arguments of others. Yes a little voice in my head is reminding me that we don’t need to leave the house any more to get well and truly exposed to (and riled up by) other people. It’s called Web 2.0.
Yebbut Jenny, we know that Web 20 doesn’t work for scientists.
(which is crazy talk, come to think of it. The scientists I know are social animals)
I had hopes that the title of this post would be “In which I clear the poop deck of tortoises” – maybe you are saving that up for Richard’s return or other celebration 😉
Stephen’s comment about a reculse sending out a few thousand letters puts me in mind of a pre-blogger.
Yes, I suspect that CD would have taken to blogging like a house on fire — though I wonder if the responses he would have received in return would have been poorer — the difference between an off-the-cuff comment on a thread and a measured, well-penned reply by return post. If I receive a personal letter, I’m more likely to read it carefully and reply in detail that if I had read the same thing in a blog.
Maybe CD would have been more an email sort of chap, in that case. I assume that he was actively using the input he got from others to develop his theories?
Oh my. I can just imagine.
Do you think CD would have been a Scienceblogs or a NN blogger? Or a free-thinking independent?
bq. I see that Nature Network still hasn’t fixed the bug that prevents us from posting urls that have ampersands
And that’s not all they haven’t done… I’ve been playing with a Facebook application that should help us spread the word, but a few of the things you can do to publicize your blog require proper HTML.
I spent the past 2 weeks clearing my house of a lingering large moth infestation. I think I’m an expert on The Behaviour of Moths after this ordeal, which probably answers the recluse question too.
As I was feeling a bit poorly, I got quite a way into the book last night. I had a feeling a ‘moth section’ was coming, and then — wham, “here’s the science bit”. But at least it was interesting. And, the interesting thing was that it was about a reductionist approach: understanding moths by their mutations, and trying to make mutated moths to work out how they work. She used the term “moth as robot” and the concepts were pretty advanced for what otherwise seems to be a bog-standard female-oriented literature. Good explanations of the genetics approach without even once saying anything about genes or specifics.
Poorly? Oh noes!
We all hope you’re feeling better soon.
(can’t think of anything cogent to say about mutant killer chick-lit robot moths)
Thanks, ducky. It’s getting more interesting – flashbacks of the scientist father character, who is a quite interesting fellow, and not stereotypical.
Update:
A very cool discussion about the biochemistry of metamorphosis in this book. Does anyone actually know what happens when the caterpillar breaks down and becomes ‘pupal soup’, or how all the cells remodel? It’s an interesting developmental problem.
I don’t know about “all the cells”, but there’s quite a bit of published research on the remodelling of the ventral nerve cord during metamorphosis, in the tobacco hornworm Manduca sexta. Lots on ecdysteroid- and juvenile hormone-responsive transcription factor interactions and expression in the epidermis as well.
Oo, thanks, Kristi. I’ve never even heard of the hornworm. I had no idea where to start.
(And now am wondering if ‘normal’ readers of this sort of fiction ever want to learn more about the science.)
There were a couple of labs working on Manduca, in the department where I did my PhD. Sometimes the moths would escape from the vivarium, and we’d find them in the hallway. Like any good biological topic, metamorphosis has something for everyone: transcription factors, endocrinology, neural development, biochemistry, etc.
I’ve noticed a restaurant called “Manduca” on the Riverwalk here; haven’t mustered the courage to try it yet, though. Can’t get past the image of eating tobacco or tomato leaves, and sipping nectar.
Does anyone actually know what happens when the caterpillar breaks down and becomes ‘pupal soup’
That sounds like a really cool research project. It’s such a magical process: I do wonder though if knowing how it works would enhance or diminish the sense of wonder and poetry?
I do wonder though if knowing how it works would enhance or diminish the sense of wonder and poetry?
I thought you knew the answer to that one…!
It was rhetorical, Stephen. I was hoping to generation a discussion.
grin
OK then, enhance. Especially if someone turns it into a really cool animation.
All this talk of caterpillars has suddenly made me very hungry…
LOL – I read that comment while munching my way through a juicy BC apple!
I have the Very Hungry Caterpillar on the back of my laptop. He’s eating the Apple logo and then all the other fruits (might need to look at a bigger one to recognize the caterpillar)
Ha ha! Brilliant
The image of the Very Hungry Caterpillar reminds me that there are many lovely nature- and environment-themed picture books for children (and the adults who read to them) that might be worth posting about. Lots of Eric Carle’s books, Dr. Seuss’ The Lorax, several of Robert McCloskey’s books, Janell Cannon’s Stellaluna, etc.
Mitch Benn, musician and comedian, was looking for a theme on which he might base a rock opera that lasted less than three minutes. He settled on The Very Hungry Caterpillar#, which he did in true Jeff Wayne War of The Worlds style.
I was thinking more on my own question above, about whether readers of fiction who aren’t scientists would look something up if the novel stimulated interest. I know that I look up non-science stuff sometimes — for example if the book is based on historical characters, I’ll often read more about them. (After finishing the delightful “Animal’s People”, I was led on a merry goose-chase courtesy of the author’s sense of humor — the town is quite fictional and is based on Bhopal.) But I wonder if non-scientists look up science stuff?
I hadn’t thought about the Hungry Caterpillar for a very long time. Is that the book that has layers that superimpose? I used to love it but remember nothing about it.
And I love Mitch Benn. When are they going to bring back The Now Show?
“Is that the book that has layers that superimpose?”
Yes. There are holes in it (from the caterpillar eating), and on one side of the page it will be a hole in, say, an orange; and when you turn it over the hole is in the next food item. And after the caterpillar ate all that food, he hides in a cocoon, and emerges a beautiful…. – no, I don’t want to spoil the ending!
Eric Carle is a true genius. I love his books. There’s a very nice one about Mr. Seahorse, and how he takes care of his babies (and encounters many other curious marine neighbours who are doing the same).
I would rather read that than, say, The Voyage of the Beagle, which I’ve complained about elsewhere. Any day of the week.
What was this blog post about, again?
@Richard – where did you complain about The Voyage of the Beagle? I very much enjoyed Thompson’s novel This Thing of Darkness that Jenny mentioned above, even though it took some liberties with the truth of the story. I had been considering having a go at Darwin’s own account but would be interested to know what you thought.
Ah. I thought perhaps I should linky link it, but didn’t…
Book review that is not enthusiastic about VOTB
Your mileage may vary, of course. I really should read more of his published works.
One of my favorite Darwin paper titles, which I always use in public engagement talks when I am explaining how most science, even that done by famous scientists, is bitty and incremental:
“The alpaca: Its naturalization in the British Isles considered as a national benefit, and as an object of immediate utility.”
I have heard that Descent is rather good. To my shame, I have read none of his books.
@Richard – thanks for that. Nice article – I appreciate your reservations but am still tempted. Though I did find On the Origin of Species a little hard going in terms of readability.
Eva! Don’r leave us hanging like that!
Sorry, I just missed the point in the discussion where you were talking about children’s books (I’m slow sometimes), but thought you might enjoy the post about it on Adventures in Ethics and Science. Especially ‘cos they also mentioned The Very Hungry Caterpillar.
Sometimes I think people should choose their battles more carefully.
I shamefully had not read the post on Adventures in Ethics in Science yet, so I didn’t see that someone in her comments also referred to the ending of the VHC as a “spoiler”. (“Shamefully” because I love the blog and Janet, and do read most of it, but missed that week because I was preparing to go on a trip where I actually saw her in person again, so I think I’m off the hook here.)
Eva – I loved how (I think it was the same commenter) pointed out that the butterfly caterpillar should make a chrysalis, not a cocoon. You know what? I’ve known that book since I can remember, and never got hung up on it. Sad, isn’t it?
Steffi – did that same commenter remember to point out that caterpillars don’t eat chocolate cake?
Now that you mention it, Richard – I don’t think he did.
Not sure anyone is reading this any more, but I just finished the book and can highly recommend it. It was a lot better than I was expecting!
Uh huh.
Just come across this interesting discussion now.
Apparently, when GW Bush was asked to give the title of his favourite book he said the Very Hungry Caterpillar – which unfortunately was only published when he was around 19.
Also, there is a very interesting paper in Nature about imaginal cells in insect metamorphosis just here
I was writing about it just a couple of days before you happened to mention it here, Jenny! Weird. Must be something in the air.
Spooky coincidences are our forte.