Sam Kean And Shoe Size

 There is one thing on which I can absolutely count on to provide fodder for this blog. And that is talking about the books which made me recommend them to whoever is ready to listen.

 But this, is more about the author.

 I was introduced to history of science as by Sam Kean (rest of them then followed). And for that, I indebted to him. Let’s just say ‘The Disappearing Spoon’ and ‘The Violinist’s Thumb’ are two of the most enjoyable books I have read which do not belong to fiction category. Science. And pure joy.

 In my Masters’ classes in JNU, many professors used to tell interesting stories about the interactions of scientists which led to the discovery (topic of the class). As much I enjoyed them, I used to think of them as superhuman story collectors. Blame that on my ignorance and on the small cache of book genres I read till then. And then I stumbled upon Sam Kean. He was the first science historian I came across (and then there was no looking back). The thing about his books are that you need not hold degree to understand them (but they sure would give you more context to relate with). Although, I cannot say the same about his third book ‘the dueling neurosurgeons’ – not going to mention that book again here because whatever was its purpose, it ended up getting on my nerve.

 The first book I read was ‘The Disappearing Spoon’. It was (to quote one of the reviews on the Goodreads) a ’treasure trove of stories’. The narrative style was extremely light (and more importantly engaging). Once you start reading, it’s hard to stop yourself from being lured in. The exposure to the backstories of all those elements which you only encountered as boring in everyday life or only in periodic table (more boring!), it dazzled me. Finished that book from cover to cover in one go. Once done, I was left hungry for more.

 Enter ‘The Violinist’s Thumb’. Being a seeker of secrets in biology (fanciful way of calling myself a biology grad student), I was obviously able to relate myself of stories presented there. Mendel has become immortal due to his contribution in genetics, but his original records of experiment were re-purposed for bonfire. Meischer, he was dragged from his lab for his marriage by his friends because it had slipped from his mind (go, figure!).

All these stories were there all the time, to engage me towards science, waiting to be found.

 Now to end with, some of my favorites quotes  and excerpts which represent his art of storytelling,and are just too fun to read... and then think.

  “Never underestimate spite as a motivator for genius.” 

“In the 1920s, two Chicago chemists had to puree several thousand pounds of bull testicles from a stockyard to get a few ounces of the first pure testosterone.” 

“Sir Isaac Newton famously said that he had achieved everything by standing on the shoulders of giants—the scientific men whose findings he built upon. The same might be said about silicon. After germanium did all the work, silicon became an icon, and germanium was banished to periodic table obscurity.” 

“If anything runs deeper than a mathematician’s love of variables, it’s a scientist’s love of constants.”  

“Mendeleev, unlike the squeamish Meyer, had balls enough to predict that new elements would be dug up. Look harder, you chemists and geologists, he seemed to taunt, and you’ll find them.”

“Whereas the gene names are intimidatingly complex, chromosome names are stupefyingly banal. Planets were named after gods, chemical elements after myths heroes and great cities. Chromosomes were named with all the creativity of shoe sizes. And really, with such boring names, there was no fight over them and bothering to change.
Fruit fly scientists, God bless ‘em, are the big exception. Morgan’s team always picked sensibly descriptive names for mutant genes, like ‘speck,’ ‘beaded,’ ‘rudimentary,’ ‘white,’ and ‘abnormal.’ And this tradition continues today, as the names of most fruit fly genes eschew jargon and even shade whimsical…”