science

Gay, Straight and the Reason Why: The Science of Sexual Orientation

mandy — Sat, 01 Jan 2011 08:00:00 +0000

I recently had the pleasure of participating, as a feminist blogger, in a survey about the Feminist Blogosphere. Name? Age? Sex (or "gender," as she put it)? These were not difficult questions (for me) to answer. But when she asked me to identify my sexual orientation, I paused... and then I stumbled. “I’m straight, right?” I asked myself. I’m a woman married to a man. If sexuality is either one of two, possibly three, things, then quite obviously I am a heterosexual. But as Gore Vidal sharply put it: “Trust a nitwit society like this one to think that there are only two categories—fag and straight.”

The fact that I lead a heteronormative life means that I am “normal,” “average,” and “healthy,” doesn’t it? And as I have been leading a universally accepted lifestyle, I am afforded the privilege of thinking of sexuality—not as something that forms the core of one’s identity—but rather as something within a spectrum, and something that enhances one’s identity. When homosexuals have demanded the right to be so-called Lesbians and Gays as part of a movement of identity distinction and defense of their acceptability, I have often thought that, in actuality, said lesbians and gays are no different from me, just people with sexualities that fall elsewhere on the spectrum. But according to the neurologist Simon LeVay, heteros and homos are different on neurological, hormonal, and genetic levels.

May Simon LeVay’s overview of the science of sexuality, which he was instrumental in founding, Gay, Straight and the Reason Why, be admitted into the pantheon of sexual discourse housing Michel Foucault, Eve Sedgwick, Judith Butler, et al.—though he is in disagreement with many queer theorists having identified, as he claims, the scientific reasons for human homosexuality. Disputing the Kinsey scale and its seven categories, for instance, LeVay points out that most “non-heterosexual men are homosexual; few say that they are roughly equally attracted to both sexes.” However, he also points out that pathology doesn’t enter into “who we love”: “There’s nothing wrong with gay people,” he writes in his introduction. “I’m gay myself, and happy to be so. There are some differences between us and the rest of humanity, certainly, as I’ll discuss in this book. Some of these differences are trivial, and some may influence people’s lives in interesting ways…”

I really enjoyed reading this book. Surprised? I was. In the first place, I struggle to understand science. But LeVay has written this text with laypeople like me in mind. Technical terms are italicized when first employed and subsequently defined in a comprehensive glossary at the back of the book. Hence, reading about neurons and genes and hormones was like reading a recipe for shortbread cookies. While my literary academic background in sexuality and queer theory came in handy and my prior interest kept me engaged, I do believe this book is appropriate for anybody with rudimentary knowledge of sexuality and a genuine interest in understanding it.

One practical dilemma arises were society to apply LeVay’s finding—that homosexuality results in part from a size discrepancy in a cluster of nerves found in the hypothalamus—to everyday life: we’d need “new rules.” If most men, for instance, are heterosexual, but those who aren’t have a smaller than normal INAH3, then could homosexuality and its physical cause be considered a disability? Are homosexuals, with their observed differences from heterosexuals, disadvantaged because of this physical abnormality/disability (not taking into account the social stigma against homosexuality, whatever its root)? And what about people with normal INAH3 who exhibit homosexual longings or tendencies? What is our science? “All mental traits, including sexual orientation, have some durable representation in the brain,” LeVay reports. I find Ashley Judd, and not Angelina Jolie, sexually attractive. Can an explanation for that be found in my brain, or is it beyond pathology and part of the aforementioned “who we love” question? Can sexuality have a spiritual component?

LeVay’s discussion of gender is problematic for queer theory enthusiasts like me. While he concludes that gender traits are a “kaleidoscopic blend” amongst homosexuals, his science contradicts often this notion. He affirms that gay men are on average more “feminine” by their own account, and lesbian women more “masculine” by their own account, than their straight counterparts. This plays into the reductive Freudian (among other) expectation that human sexual relationships must consist of symbiotic masculine and feminine parts. Furthermore, there is evidence that suggests homosexuals have different anatomical makeup than heterosexuals. LeVay does not shy away from using potentially pejorative language: “…lesbians who identify as ‘butch’ have a higher (more male-like) waist-hip ratio than do straight women, whereas lesbians who identify as ‘femme’ have the same ratio as straight women. Because the waist-hip ratio rises if people become overweight, this difference does not necessarily represent a constitutional difference between butch and femme lesbians: It could simply be that butch lesbians have less interest in dieting or maintaining a ‘feminine’ profile.”

Gay, Straight and the Reason Why is full of these types of observations, the things we’re thinking about when we ponder about our human differences, but are often afraid to say aloud; and I give LeVay a lot of credit for his candor. Ultimately, his observations and those of his colleagues detailed herein make our eliminating the language and expectation of gender seem far, far away. But I appreciate good, thorough, critical discourse such as that which can be launched with documented research of this kind. I hope this text finds its way into many graduate seminars across many areas of study: from science to literature and film, and more!

Written by: Rachel Moehl, January 1st 2011

The Cinematic Life of the Gene

admin — Fri, 13 Aug 2010 01:00:00 +0000

By Jackie Stacey

Duke University Press

The Cinematic Life of the Gene is a challenging and complex collection of essays that uses cinematic representations of genetics and cloning to consider the cultural impact of genetic breakthroughs. Jackie Stacey draws on some of the most well known theoretical works regarding cinema, art, and the body to consider the fascinating link between cinema and genomics. Her essays cite everything from feminist and psychoanalytic theory to theories of passing and reassemblage. It is the text's interdisciplinary nature that makes it both challenging and significant; cinema scholars, scientists, and feminists alike will find this work compelling. Still, The Cinematic Life of the Gene roots its examinations in the moving image, and serious scholars of the cinema (and particularly of science fiction cinema) will benefit from this “cultural study of film.”

Stacey’s work centers on an interesting premise: that cinema is uniquely tied to the science of cloning, since both are “technologies of imitation” which illustrate “a fascination with the boundary between life and death, and with the technical possibilities of animating the human body.” More than their fascinations with life and death, however, Stacey is interested in how scientific conceptions of cloning and genomics work concurrently with cinematic representations in creating “aestheticized forms of envisioning the human body.” In other words, scientists and filmmakers alike have visually codified genetic manipulation as a means of understanding and coping with its cultural and social ramifications. Stacey examines these attendant fears and desires surrounding genetic manipulation, referring to them as “the genetic imaginary,” a theoretical and cultural space in which “the fears and desires” around cloning and genomics are expressed and explored. She utilizes analyses of films from multiple genres (science fiction, the art-house thriller, feminist independent film, and body horror) to examine how fears surrounding genomics are expressed through both narrative and visual structure.

Stacey's explorations of the cultural impact of genomics on the psyche are fascinating but rather overwhelming, particularly because of her heavy dependence on prior theoretical works by the likes of Jean Baudrillard and Walter Benjamin. Unfortunately, Stacey focuses so heavily on explicating her predecessors’ works that she tends to obscure her own thoughts; her contributions to these theories get lost amongst the jargon of her theoretical ancestors. Stacey serves her reader well by anchoring her arguments in popular works like Gattaca and Alien: Resurrection, making her work more approachable and comprehensible. She succeeds when she pares down her writing and engages with fewer theoretical texts in an essay; for example, she provides an inspired and fascinating examination of feminine masquerade in the science fiction film, applying the theories of well-known feminists Luce Irigaray and Mary Ann Doane to constructions of men in narratives of cloning.

The Cinematic Life of the Gene is not for the novice cinema or science fiction scholar, but those seriously engaged in a cultural study of the moving image or genetics would serve themselves well to tackle it. Scholars aligned with feminist and queer theories will also find rich fodder for thought in Stacey’s attentions to feminism, gender, and sexuality on screen.

Written by: Joanna Chlebus, August 12th 2010

Living Downstream: An Ecologist’s Personal Investigation of Cancer and the Environment

admin — Wed, 09 Jun 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Sandra Steingraber

Da Capo

In the original 1997 edition of Living Downstream, Sandra Steingraber was the first to compare data on toxic releases with data from U.S. cancer registries. In the last ten years since this edition was published, there has been rapid growth in the understanding of environmental links to human cancer and new published findings that corroborate the evidence Steingraber compiled in 1997. With a Ph.D. in biology and a Master's degree in creative writing, Steingraber has been the recipient of many awards, including Chatham College's Rachel Carson Leadership Award in 2001 and a Hero Award from the Breast Cancer Fund in 2006. Living Downstream is both a personal story of Steingraber's battle with cancer and her investigation into the potential sources of carcinogens released into the air, land, and water in and around her hometown of Normandale in West-Central Illinois, as well as in other areas of the United States.

Thirty years ago, when Steingraber was a twenty-year-old college student, she learned that she had bladder cancer and was surprised when her urologist asked her whether she had ever been exposed to textile dyes or worked in a tire factory or the aluminum industry. The author later learned that bladder cancer was considered a quintessential environmental cancer. In other words, there was more evidence linking it to toxic chemical exposure than to any other type of cancer. However, although bladder carcinogens had been identified, they continue to be used by industry even today. The obvious question, of course, is why have these chemicals not been banned. The reader quickly discovers that cancer causation is complex, as is proving the source responsible for this disease.

The author reminds her readers that of the 80,000 synthetic chemicals currently in use in the U.S., only about two percent have been tested for carcinogenicity and only five have been banned under the U.S. Toxics Substances Control Act since 1976. We also learn that the U.S. environmental regulatory system does not require exhaustive toxicological testing of chemicals before they are marketed. Legal limits are set on chemical releases, but, as we recently learned with bisphenol A (BPA), trace amounts can be more harmful to humans than higher doses. Moreover, we are often exposed to many contaminants simultaneously in the air we breathe, the water we drink, the food we ingest, and the land where we live and work.

Often compared with Rachel Carson, Steingraber makes some compelling arguments in favor of the precautionary principle, or the better-safe-than-sorry approach to chemicals. She also advocates the principle of reverse onus, which holds producers responsible for proving that their products will not harm the public, as is the case for pharmaceutical companies.

Sandra Steingraber has the expertise in science to give her the necessary authority to present an investigation of this scope and the impeccable writing to make it accessible to a wide audience. Although some environmental texts can be dry, Steingraber's writing and personal story make for a compelling read. Her drive and commitment to finding the missing pieces of the cancer jigsaw puzzle are humbling. I only wish that she had included a map of Tazewell County, Illinois, which we repeatedly visit throughout the book. A few diagrams of some the atoms she describes would have also been nice.

In short, if you have ever thought that the environment may have played a role in the death of a loved one and would like to know more, this is the book for you.

Written by: Heather Leighton, June 9th 2010

Remarkable Creatures

admin — Sat, 06 Mar 2010 01:00:00 +0000

By Tracy Chevalier

Dutton

I'm a huge fan of Tracy Chevalier. Like a lot of people, I began with Girl with a Pearl Earring, and have since made my way through all but one of her other books. So of course I leapt at the chance to sample her newest offering.

Like all her books, Remarkable Creatures begins with something tangible. In Pearl Earring it was a Vermeer painting, and The Lady and the Unicorn explained the origin of a famous medieval tapestry. This time, the inspiration is a sketch of a most unusual woman.

Mary Anning is a working class girl living on the southern coast of Britain. The people there often host tourists and sell them "curies," curiosities, as souvenirs. Only recently have men of learning begun to study and classify these curies as fossils. Mary has "the eye" for spotting them, and she is keeping her family afloat by hunting fossils along the beach.

An older gentlewoman and spinster, Elizabeth Philpot, takes an interest in this clever girl. She, too, collects fossils. They form a friendship, spending hours and hours together combing the beach and cliffs for new specimens. Elizabeth collects for the joy of it, Mary for the money.

Everything changes when Mary discovers a "monster"—an Ichthyosaurus preserved in the rock. Educated men swarm to the town to see it for themselves and try to discover their own creatures. Mary is pleased by the attention and works closely with the men to find each his own specimen. Though they are only too happy to gain from Mary's knowledge and experience, Elizabeth discovers that Mary's best specimen is not credited to her at all; instead, the man who sells it to the London museum is listed as its discoverer.

Elizabeth is dismayed when she realizes how badly Mary is being abused. Collectors and scientists are appropriating all her efforts, so she spends less time collecting items to sell. One man even draws Mary into a flirtation and takes advantage of her desire to please him. He leaves town with nearly a hundred specimens—and not a dime to pay Mary for fossils or guidance.

The facts Chevalier has based the book on bear this out. The real Mary Anning and Elizabeth Philpot were hardly acknowledged in any official capacity by their contemporaries. Mary is and was responsible for discovering the first complete skeletons of several dinosaurs, but it is the men who purchased them to study at schools and museums who named them and whose names are now remembered.

Though Mary is doing sensational things, it is Elizabeth who is really exceptional. She is very self-aware, and is under no illusions about her future. Her family has only enough money for one of four sisters to marry, and that sister is not her. She knows she will need something to occupy her days. She chooses fossils. She reads scientific journals voraciously, and she is constantly seeking answers to questions many people—including the foremost natural scientists of the day, all men—avoid: What are these fossils? Why do these animals no longer exist? Did God allow them to die out? Did he destroy them—did God make a mistake in their creation? Could humanity die out one day? What a majority now consider hard facts were then shocking, blasphemous ideas to nearly everyone.

Remarkable Creatures speaks of both the amazing fossils being uncovered and the two women who pursue an unladylike career with no hope of recognition. The world they live in shapes their actions and reactions, turning what could be a dull history into a vibrant story of female friendship. An excellent read for the drizzling, gray days you want to spend indoors.

Written by: Richenda Gould, March 5th 2010

The Mathematics of Sex: How Biology and Society Conspire to Limit Talented Women and Girls

admin — Mon, 11 Jan 2010 09:00:00 +0000

By Stephen J. Ceci, Wendy M. Williams

Oxford University Press

I’ll be honest. I was scared of reading The Mathematics of Sex. I am not the kind of women they’re writing about, and I know very few women who are. I’m not a mathematician, physicist, chemist, computer scientist, operations researcher, or engineer. Without the subtitle, “How Biology and Society Conspire to Limit Talented Women and Girls,” the title is somewhat misleading; it’s not so much about sex between the sheets as biological sex. It’s not about the math of sex so much as the math surrounding women… or the lack of it surrounding them.

Ceci and Williams note that boys and men perform better than girls and women on standardized tests. (They use the SATs and the Putnam Mathematical Competition as examples.) Interestingly, girls and women earn better grades than boys and men in math and science classes. “For example, a man with the same SAT-M score as a woman seated next to him earns a grade nearly two letter grades lower than her in a mathematics course—he gets a C/D versus her B.” Still, even though women do better in classes, “the ranks of professionals in math-intensive fields are lopsidedly male.”

There are three supposed causes of the under-representation of women in math-heavy fields of work: comparable innate ability, social and cultural bias and barriers, and women’s lack of interest. The authors cover these arguments thoroughly in chapters two and three, which they call “opening arguments.” Then, in chapters four and five, they challenge those arguments with their own research and data.

Ceci and Williams conclude that women are not in math-intensive fields as much as men because of _non_biological/ability factors, including the tendency for “women with high mathematical talent…to enter non-math fields such as medicine, veterinary medicine, law, and biological sciences.” They analyze evidence across multiple fields of expertise: “the cognitive psychology of mental rotation, the social psychology of stereotypes, personal preferences, discrimination, and hormonal bases of behavior, econometrics of hiring and promotion, and cultural comparisons of mathematics achievement.”

Overall, The Mathematics of Sex wasn’t as scary as I expected it to be, and it was worth the read. To those people who say, “All these worrying women; I don’t know what the big fuss is,” I say: this book has the answer to why women aren’t in STEM (science, technology, engineering, and math) professions. It’s important to promote women in fields in which there are few female representatives so that future generations will continue to come to the radical conclusion that women are also human. Ceci and Williams do a good job of encouraging that in this book. Kudos.

Written by: Viannah Duncan, January 11th 2010

Micrographia

admin — Wed, 27 May 2009 23:21:00 +0000

By Emily Wilson

University of Iowa Press

Monadnock. Ochers. Moraine. These are some of the terms you’ll find while reading Emily Wilson’s Micrographia. You will find yourself consulting Webster’s a lot. Unless, of course, you know a great deal about isolated rock hills and unconsolidated glacial debris. Heading spinning yet? If so, Wilson’s book of poetry is not for you.

While Wilson exhibits immense talent in selecting words that sound wonderfully together—“like ships squat-sparred” and “kelp closes up”—many of the words themselves are very scientific. This limits the scale of readers who can relate to her work. If you know little about earth science, nature and flora, you will find yourself in a strange new land that may be frustrating.

One critic describes Wilson’s work as “a speech whose power lies in its admitting to being ‘sort of true, sort of torturous.’” This sums up exactly how I felt reading Micrographia. While phrases like “more rose than rubiate” and “in the form of a forest of tulip trees” drew me into the poems and left me wanting more, I stumbled painfully over awkward phrases like “jouvence blue” and “rouge-wedged bogs.” There were just too many word couplings that felt obnoxiously ostentatious.

With this in mind, I must note that Wilson gained inspiration for her work from Robert Hooke’s own Micrographia, in which observations he made through the lens of his microscope. Wilson utilizes Hooke’s same painstaking observation to write about the world. And, it causes a sense of disconnect and frustration for an individual with a non-science background or little interest in the subject. However, those who thoroughly enjoy the intricacies of science, will admire Wilson’s ability to craft poetry reminiscent of Hooke’s remarkable observations.

Written by: Michelle Tooker, May 27th 2009

The Hedgehog’s Dilemma: A Tale of Obsession, Nostalgia, and the World’s Most Charming Mammal

admin — Mon, 25 May 2009 09:36:00 +0000

By Hugh Warwick

Bloomsbury Press

I remember the first time that I saw a hedgehog. I was studying abroad in England, returning home after a night out, and outside my flat I heard a snuffling sound in the underbrush. Seconds later, a small hedgehog toddled out, seemingly unfazed by our presence. This small moment has stayed with me.

I feel that Hugh Warwick, the author of The Hedgehog's Dilemma, would appreciate my story of my first encounter with a hedgehog considering his overwhelming passion for the personable little creature. Warwick has been researching hedgehogs for over twenty years, and his story is a mix of biography, scientific research, and impassioned plea.

Warwick has tracked hedgehogs—literally—across the world. Tracking hedgehogs by GPS across the hills of England, Warwick came literally nose to nose to hedgehogs, and he fell in love. And as I read his book, I began to fall in love with the creatures myself. As he discovered one of his hedgehogs was tragically being eaten, I gasped so loud that the people around me on the subway actually looked up to see what was happening. (For those of you who ride the subway in NYC, you know that this doesn’t happen often.)

Warwick tells his own story of researching hedgehogs across the years and across the seas, and we are met with a number of characters. There are the hedgehog collectors in America, where no native population exists. There are the overzealous journalists blaming hedgehogs for the decline of bird populations in Orkney. There are the incredibly selfless caretakers of injured or abandoned hedgehogs.

Warwick ends up in China looking for the elusive (possibly extinct) hughi hedgehog, his namesake hedgehog in a way. He tracks this specific species of hedgehog from the museums to the forests of China. I felt the excitement and possibility of the moment as he crossed continents in search of hughi, and you’ll have to read the book yourself to see what happens.

Hedgehogs—little creatures that trundle through the underbrush of England and other parts of Europe—are being threatened by human interference. With the demolition of the famous English hedges that hedgehogs are so inherently fond of, combined with the more cars on the road, the hedgehog population is diminishing. Inherent in this book—other than a clear love song to the hedgehog—is the message that humans are negatively affecting their environment. A conscious effort must be made to first acknowledge this fact, and then, something must be done about it.

Written by: Kristin Conard, May 25th 2009

Censoring Science: Inside the Political Attack on Dr. James Hansen and the Truth of Global Warming

admin — Thu, 23 Apr 2009 10:51:00 +0000

By Mark Bowen

Plume

A valid scientific theory is a conclusion supported by data. An answer must be viewed through the prism of skepticism, the data must be questioned, and proof must be spelled out. Most importantly, all possibilities must be considered. In his book, Censoring Science: Inside the Political Attack on Dr. James Hansen and the Truth of Global Warming, Mark Bowen presents quite a conclusion, but never takes the time to cite his sources. As a result, his book is not as compelling as it could be.

Bowen argues that Dr. James Hansen, the head of NASA’s Goddard Institute for Space Studies, was censored, had his research funding reduced, and his work suppressed. His work as a scientist interpreting data collected by NASA’s satellites that measure the Earth’s atmosphere gave definitive proof of global warming, and eventually, of humans’ role in the process. Because of this, the book postulates that the White House—more specifically Vice President Dick Cheney—suppressed his work to appease the energy special interests.

That is a lofty accusation, and one that Bowen does not support. He uses a lot of anecdotal support, and does not completely prove his conclusion. For the first half of the book, the timeline is hard to follow, and how the players connect to each other is not obvious. He never cites his sources, though it is implicit that he interviewed at least Dr. Hansen and his public affairs office, Leslie McCarthy. What public documents he read and what private notes he had access to is not clear. Nor is who he was able to interview. For much of the first half of the book, I was surprised by how much is quoted conversations that he was not a part of. I was left wondering if there were tapes he was listening to or if he was using poetic license. It was a bit disconcerting for a nonfiction book.

For the second half, Bowen focused on the current work Dr. Hansen is doing and how he proved and is continuing to prove the existence global warming. This part is informative, clearly explaining and summarizing complex science in a way that anyone can understand. This is truly where Bowen shines as an author. The only issue is that the main argument of the book implies that global warming exists. If Dr. Hansen had not proved global warming, there would be no need to censor his research. It almost feels as though this section was intended to be the beginning of the book and the fragmented beginning was originally the second half of the book. That would explain why he reintroduces players we already know, and why certain terms are explained more than once.

That being said, I enjoyed reading Censoring Science. Bowen is a gifted writer, one able to explain important and advanced science understanding to the masses with ease, and make it enjoyable and interesting. I plan to find his other books. He failed to make his argument, but like many failures, it’s interesting. He does not make as clear a case for censorship as he does for global warming, and for that, the book is not the best source for the case against the Bush Administration. It is, however, a compelling read.

Written by: Taylor Rhodes, April 23rd 2009

Toxic Trespass

admin — Tue, 03 Mar 2009 11:19:00 +0000

Directed by Barri Cohen

National Film Board of Canada

Barri Cohen's filmic crusade for children's health, Toxic Trespass, starts with her 10-year-old daughter, Ada, announcing the results of her "body burden" blood test for chemical substances at a press conference. She says: "I am polluted." The results are dreadful for one so young, yet no one can reassure Ada about the consequences that these poisons will have on her health. From the outset, Toxic Trespass criticizes the government’s inability to establish safe levels for chemical levels in blood, especially given the ever-escalating rate of childhood cancers.

Despite reluctance to identify "toxic clusters"—areas of higher incidence—environmental causes are said to be responsible for ninety-five percent of cancers (as opposed to genetic causes). The geographical focus of the documentary is the larger Great Lakes Basin and in order to draw conclusions, Cohen explores Windsor, Canada, a city located across the river from Detroit. Windsor is known for high levels of airborne toxins because of the numerous heavy metal industries concentrated in one area (foundries, etc.), but Cohen also interviews people who denounce vehicle emissions (Windsor is Canada’s busiest border crossing) and other possible contributing factors.

The great strength of the documentary is that children, dissenting scientists, women, and Native American groups are given a voice. Cohen focuses on the Aamjiwnaang First Nation near Sarnia, Ontario, a city to which eighty percent of petrochemical products used in the world can be linked, located across the river from Port Huron, Michigan. The Chippewa Land is surrounded by large chemical multinationals located in "Chemical Valley." Mercury levels in the community’s water were found to be 100 times higher than established government thresholds. Here Cohen confirms studies corroborating that pollutants provoke endocrinal disruption and skew the sex ratio in births, inhibiting the production of male embryos in mothers and/or affecting the Y-chromosome in sperm.

In her investigation of contaminants, Cohen also criticizes the use of pesticides for cosmetic reasons, introducing Jean-Dominic Lévesque-René, a lymphoma survivor from Quebec who has been fighting for recognition of environmental toxins causing childhood illnesses since his diagnosis at the age of ten in 1994. In 2001, he was recognized by the U.N. Environment Programme for his outstanding contributions to the protection of the environment.

Exposing the government's "4D" strategy with regards to public information on environmental problems—deny, delay, divide and discredit—Cohen suggests collusion with industry in keeping information from the public, and especially challenges the general tendency to minimize or deny possible environmental effects of pollution on citizens. She does not hide her bias, recognizes her own responsibility in her daughter’s contamination (i.e., bottles, toys), but manages to leave spectators with optimism by showing impassioned citizens fighting to make their communities safer.

People who have seen documentaries on environmental causes of cancer, such as Toxic Bust or Rachel's Daughters: Searching for the Causes of Breast Cancer, will note similarities with these films, even though it does not exclusively deal with breast cancer. Producer Dorothy Goldin-Rosenberg previously examined breast cancer in Exposure: Environmental Links to Breast Cancer.

Mixing historical footage on chemical production, home videos, interviews, and didactic "toxic facts," this exceptional documentary is of a quality typical of Canada’s NFB and, among other prizes, received a Canadian Screenwriting Award by the Writers’ Guild of Canada in 2008.

Written by: Sophie M. Lavoie, March 3rd 2009

The Time it Takes to Fall

admin — Sat, 21 Jun 2008 11:46:00 +0000

By Margaret Lazarus Dean

Simon and Schuster

Margaret Lazarus Dean uses an American tragedy, the space shuttle Challenger explosion, as the backdrop of her charming coming-of-age novel, The Time It Takes to Fall. The heroine of the story is Dolores Gray, who is just entering the 7th grade. She lives with her mother, Deborah; her father, Frank; and her 5-year-old sister, Delia in Palmetto Park, a fictitious town near Cape Canaveral, Florida.

Dolores is, in many ways, just like every other 11-year-old kid. She is insecure, wants to fit in with the popular girls, and is developing an interest in boys - yet Dolores is a world apart from her peers. She is an intelligent young woman with an avid interest in physics and a dream of someday becoming an astronaut. Dolores chronicles this dream in an inspiring space scrapbook. Any adult with a goal or high aspirations could learn from Dolores’ practice of keeping a journal.

The author separates the book into sections according to the mechanical terms relating to the space shuttle - Operational, Launch Safety, Launch Delays, and Erosion - correlating this terminology with Dolores’ daily life experiences. For example, in "Operational," we learn that Dolores’ father has just been laid off temporarily from NASA, but the family is able to function and stay operational because her mother finds a job in order to contribute to the family income.

Dolores’ father is a technician who works on the solid rocket boosters, a very important mechanical component of the shuttles. He wants Dolores to someday become a technician. She doesn’t have the heart to tell him that she doesn’t want to follow this path; rather, she wants to follow in the footsteps of her idol, astronaut Judith Resnik. Dolores and her father often go together to see the space shuttle launches.

Dolores’ most interesting relationship is with Eric Biersdorfer. Eric, like Dolores, is an exceptional student and has an interest in science, but is a bit of an outsider. Eric’s father is the Director of Launch Safety and plays a pivotal role in the story in terms of Dolores’ father’s career with NASA - and also in the relationship between her mother and father. Dolores is fascinated with Eric, but feels that she will risk her popularity if she befriends him.

In spite of the looming tragedy of the shuttle explosion, The Time It Takes to Fall is an enjoyable read with interesting characters and family dynamics. It was nice how Dolores’ father took an active role in raising his daughters while their mother was away allowing him to build a strong, albeit rocky relationship with Dolores. Young girls like Dolores need positive role models - such as astronaut Judith Resnik. The novel illustrates how important it is to encourage young women to develop their interests and talents in many areas including science. Even though this novel is for adults, teenagers will also enjoy this story.

Written by: Su Lin Mangan, June 21st 2008

Maria Mitchell and the Sexing of Science: An Astronomer Among the American Romantics

admin — Tue, 10 Jun 2008 11:33:00 +0000

By Renée Bergland

Beacon Press

Nineteenth century New England was a virtual breeding ground for progressive ideas. During the period, a host of feminist philosophers, jurists, and scholars emerged onto American society. Among the heroines associated with the era, you’ve probably examined those such as Dorthea Dix and Margaret Fuller in your high school U.S. History class. Many women, however, still remain relatively unacknowledged, despite their critical roles in scholarly debates of the era. Among them, mathematician and astronomer Maria Mitchell remains most prominent.

Renée Bergland’s Maria Mitchell and the Sexing of Science tells, in careful detail, the story of the glorious, if too little known, Maria Mitchell, and her triumph over what soon grew to become yet another division of the so-called masculine domain. Raised in isolated, but vibrant Nantucket, Mitchell’s interest in astronomy started at an early age.

Apprenticed by her father, as an amateur astronomer young Maria would climb, night after night, to her house’s crude rooftop observatory to diligently study the stars. In 1847, during one of her many nighttime sweeps, Mitchell discovered a comet, propelling her into international fame. Within subsequent years, she became America’s first professional astronomer and one of the founding professors of Vassar College.

Although Mitchell’s success as a feminist scholar was certainly rare for the day, she had not, contrary to what some might expect, triumphed over impossible odds. Barriers against feminist achievement in the twenty-first century are pretty intense, and upon starting the book, I that expected that conditions must have been much harsher nearly 200 years ago. The great surprise for me came when I found that Mitchell had faced, in actuality, relatively little bias. Young Nantucketeers, both male and female, were encouraged by their Quaker upbringings to rigorously pursue academic studies.

In Maria’s time, girls were thought of as naturally scientific, and were urged, rather than dissuaded, to pursue studies in the field. The discipline, given the age, was considered less politically threatening than the humanities. Sadly, in later years the scientific field began to close ranks against female students. In the later half of this biography, Bergland chronicles those changes in American society that led to original ‘sexing of science’ and its transformation into a "man’s" game.

Although the Mitchell’s story is certainly an interesting one, Bergland provides only a dull narration of facts from the astronomer’s life. What I expected was the compelling saga of one woman’s journey to achieve scientific greatness turned out to be a rather lackluster account. The author also tended to stray from the main idea, overwhelming her reader with a mass of unnecessary detail. Often, Bergland would present a pages-long description of events that had no apparent connection to the central plot. Nevertheless, Maria Mitchell and the Sexing of Science remains a satisfactory account of Maria Mitchell and her truly enormous contributions to astronomy, education, as well as the nineteenth-century feminist movement.

Written by: Sameeraa Pahwa, June 10th 2008

The Higher Power of Lucky

admin — Tue, 12 Jun 2007 18:04:00 +0000

By Susan Patron

Atheneum

Censorship advocates have a lot to dislike in Susan Patron’s Newbery Medal children’s book The Higher Power of Lucky. Aside from the “scrotum” controversy (the word appears on the first page and prompted a flurry of “how dare she put this is a children’s book!”), there are Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, a mother in jail for dealing marijuana, a delinquent father and surplus U.S. government cheese.

Fortunately, however, the American Library Association, the organization that awards the Newbery Medal, ignored critics’ complaints. The Higher Power of Lucky is a beautiful coming-of-age story about an orphaned girl, Lucky, living in the remote California desert town of Hard Pan, population 43, where everyone survives on government support and twelve-step meetings. Lucky is a budding scientist constantly on the prowl for specimens while searching for her higher power and is followed by her friend Lincoln, a compulsive knot tyer, a cookie-consuming fiend Miles and HMS Beagle, a dog named after Darwin’s exploration ship. After Lucky’s mother dies, her father’s first wife, a French woman named Brigitte, arrives in Hard Pan to take care of Lucky until she can be placed in a foster home. Like all good orphans, Lucky develops a scheme to run away and the resulting (mis)adventures bring her to terms with her mother’s death and her new life with Brigitte.

Unlike other tales of ragtag orphans who find themselves, Patron’s book is notable for how it infuses socio-economics into Lucky’s story. It’s clear that the townspeople of Hard Pan are not well-off, but Lucky loves her hometown and its oddball collection of interesting folk. She doesn’t pine for a bigger life or wish she owned more material goods. Lucky’s love for her life creates a space for the majority of children who do not grow up with $500 per week allowances and a dad’s credit card in their back pocket, and Patron does a marvelous job of indulging in a sometimes harsh reality through clever and whimsical prose.

The Higher Power of Lucky successfully creates a space for youth who are acting like youth to be who they are without judgment by reminding adults that children are also complex beings with self-doubts, fears and hopes, as Lucky and her friends experience, and that it’s all of these experiences collected that will shape an individual into a human being. Patron’s ability to build on themes that reach both young people and adult readers is what makes Lucky’s story such a treasure.

Written by: Lacey Dunham, June 12th 2007

Gasp! The Swift and Terrible Beauty of Air

admin — Thu, 31 May 2007 20:39:00 +0000

By Joe Sherman

Shoemaker and Hoard

When I first received Gasp! The Swift and Terrible Beauty of Air, I couldn't believe that someone could write a 400 some paged book on the subject of air. But after reading this book, I realized that kind of attitude is exactly the basic root of the problem.

Joe Sherman explores everything there is to explore about air, from why a child takes their first breath to the evolution of Earth's atmosphere and all the radical scientists who discovered truths about our air. Most interesting was the explanation of the progression of people considering fresh air as a human being's right and fight for a better quality of air. I had not known that early feminist groups had fought for cleaner air, which makes sense as historically (and presently) women and children often bear the brunt of environmental degradation.

The World Bank, in 1992, estimated the deaths from air pollution every year average between 300,000 and 700,000 people. We need to continue our fight for cleaner air. I think the most important aspect of this book, what I hope it does for everyone who reads it, is that it got me thinking in my day-to day life about the air I breathe – how ridiculous it is that we ignore the quality of the one thing that is keeping us here. I think it made me focus on my actions and the ripple effect they have, how much our actions influence the world for better or worse, and how we need to be aware of this.

Written by: Lesley Kartali, May 31st 2007

A Loop in Time

admin — Sun, 15 Apr 2007 18:39:00 +0000

By Rowena Wright

Finial Publishing

Rowena Wright compiles myth, science and fantasy in her newest novel, A Loop in Time, which details a year in the life of Ericca Ludwig and her friends in post-9/11 New York City. Ericca, the only child of Sophia Ludwig, spends much of her time at home discussing time and space with Albert Einstein and Leonardo Fibonacci, whose personas are manifested in Spike, Ericca’s magical blanket. Eventually, Ericca learns that she is a descendent of a magical race known as Ringolds, as are Matt and Elle, her two closest friends outside of Albert and Leonardo. As Ericca is gradually introduced to this new and mysterious lifestyle, she learns that a Ringold’s spirit is immortal, and she embarks on a mission to bring her dead father, Branch Archer, back to life.

A Loop in Time is more than a science fiction novel meant to entertain young adults with its complicated yet intriguing storyline. Underneath the science, the myth and the magic is a simple assessment of the relationship between men and women. Elle and Matt, for example, are strikingly dissimilar in that Elle is intelligent, a student of mythology and enjoys fashion shows, while Matt preoccupies himself with technology, violence and creating the world’s greatest video game; the two get along better than most other siblings might.

The divergence between men and women is more evident in chapter eight, Quintana Castle, when a group a vampires, depicted by their “feline grace” and “enchanting sweetness,” captures Matt. Following his escape, Matt is assailed by a group of ungainly, clumsy umpires, who offer him “plates of pie, spaghetti, and roast beef.” Though the exchange between the two hoards isn’t pertinent to the story, it does imply that the graceful, seductive and feminine vampires realize success methodically, while the bumbling, rumbling umpires can only attempt to kidnap Matt through persuasion and bribery; their attempts at flattery are far less appealing than are the attempts of the vampires.

A Loop in Time comprises many other situations that highlight the discrepancies between the masculine and feminine, however, Rowena Wright seems to suggest, by the end of the novel, that men and women, working jointly, can fashion something beautiful, such as the birth of a child, like Ericca, or the recovery of a lost soul, like Branch Archer.

Written by: Jeremy Stafford, April 15th 2007

The End of Mr. Y

admin — Wed, 14 Mar 2007 03:01:00 +0000

By Scarlett Thomas

Harcourt

The End of Mr. Y is a science fiction fantasy story. Ariel Manto is a doctoral student writing about a mysterious author, T.E. Lumas. His final book, The End of Mr. Y has never been read by anyone alive because whoever reads the book disappears. After spending the last of her money on the book, Ariel uses it to fall into a trance and enter the Troposphere – an alternate dimension where she can travel through time and space.

This book is long – clocking it at about 400 pages. While it did pique my interest, it was not a thrilling page turner. I set it down for a few days and was perfectly happy to leave it there, with no urge to continue reading just to know what happens next. The End of Mr. Y references a lot of science and philosophy from the late 1800s that some might not be familiar with. Without such familiarity it would be hard to keep up with references to Charles Darwin and a large cast of thinkers. The book, however, is an interesting read once you get past all the references; it turns into a great adventure story.

Written by: Katie Peoples, March 13th 2007