Making possible what seemed impossible

Writing about science and technology is hard. These are often complicated ideas, explanations of theories that are nested inside other theories, and obtuse concepts that demand a deeper level of understanding than most people can easily access. 

And writing about it artfully—injecting these abstract explanations with a kind of humanity—is even harder. It takes a special sort of literary wizardry to combine the education of the reader with a line-level magic that can transport them. 

(A caveat, because I think it’s only right to be honest here: My perspective is perhaps a little addled by the fact that sometimes I write and edit science and technology stories, and so I have skin in the game; right now I’m working on a piece that tries to describe some complicated mathematics and is deep in edits. Where I can, I try to make sure my words aren’t just workmanlike carriers of information but can sing, too. It’s been hard to get right, and not just because I’m rusty.)

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Siri Carpenter lays out some of this difficulty in the introduction to her book, The Best Science Stories and How They Work. Siri runs something called The Open Notebook, a non-profit resource for journalists who cover science—especially the ones who find themselves covering science unexpectedly. TON’s new book carries almost a dozen fascinating articles from authors like Ed Yong, Kendra Pierre-Louis, and Ferris Jabr (CUR 003, passim) then matches them with annotations from voices like Mary Roach and Ben Goldfarb. It’s a great read for anyone interested in the mechanics of writing about complexity.

Siri explains this challenge in a way that captures not just the difficulty but also the possibility: “Science journalism is not just about explaining science. It is about showing how science matters for our lives, our decisions, and our shared future, as well as how it’s a source of awe and joy.”

All of this is to say that our October book of the month, Beyond Inheritance, is trying to strike this balance, make space for this possibility. 

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Looking back on our other picks over the past two and a half years, I would say that Roxanne Khamsi’s book is probably a bit more “sciencey” than some of the others: it spends real time walking through the details of experiments, and taking the reader through high-level ideas from beginning to end. 

Sometimes this is a job of explanation: I need to tell you something that is important, but it’s complicated, so let’s go step by step. I think here of chapter 3’s discussion of immunity and immune disorders; in order to help us understand what’s going on, Khamsi talks about a condition originally called dysgammaglobulinemia but now known as hyperIGM. This requires patience and careful choices.

Sometimes it’s a job of translation: I need to bring something from deep in the biological research into a realm that you and I can understand. This is where jargon wants to run riot. There are DNA bases (all those ATCGs) and genes with names like DNMT3A; there are antibodies like CH103 and proteins like CD40L. And then there are disorders known by acronyms like CHIP and PNH and ADA-SCID, as well as more familiar ones like HIV.

Khamsi does have to deploy the acronyms—a few times I found myself slowing down or re-reading descriptions to make sure I was following what was happening—but she doesn’t get stuck in them. When I retraced my steps and realized how rarely she actually touches on those mostly-unintelligible collections of letters and numbers.

For the most part, though, I think Khamsi is doing a job of expansion: She’s laying out the logic to show us something else, to blow our minds. This is the macro-level ambition of the book, to explain what mutation really means on a microscopic level, for our bodies, and for us as a species. 

This is laid out from the very beginning, with an introduction that draws you in and gives a perfect summary of the shift in perspective that Khamsi is asking you to open yourself up to.

As she writes:

“My hope is that this book will open your eyes to the landscape of immense and ongoing genetic diversity that exists within each human body. You will recognize that you are a slightly different genetic version of yourself today from yesterday, and will be different yet again tomorrow. This constant genetic metamorphosis occurs within many organisms—from fruit flies to mice to whales. It even takes place in plants. If you happen to have a tree in your sight line right now, look up at its crown. The leaves on the swaying tips of its branches extending toward the sky possess genetic variations that are different from those in its trunk and its roots in the ground.

The living world around us is buzzing with mutation. The wellspring of variation within each multicellular organism, including each human, cannot be ignored any longer. Nor can we overlook its influence on our individual health. Many doctors and researchers now believe that mapping the universe of mutations inside us will revolutionize medical treatments. Here is the story of this awakening.”

That’s the source of awe and joy that Siri Carpenter mentioned.

That’s the possibility I spoke about earlier. 

Onwards

Bobbie