Recording science

Bruce Gibb mused in a Thesis column in Nature Chemistry a few months back about taking small chunks of time to tune up your research apparatus. I'm on sabbatical leave this semester, and in addition to the research projects I've got going, I'm trying to devote some time on a regular basis to just this. I'm playing with an simple animation app, that would let me quickly put together animations for research talks or classes — and test driving apps for electronic research notebooks.

As a computational chemist, I've been balanced on the knife edge of digital record keeping my whole career. What goes into paper archives (hand kept, or printed), what stays electronic? Who backs stuff up, how often? Long term storage? I've encourage my students to think about how they want to track their data and, at least as importantly, their thinking about their data. Through it all (from punch cards to mag tape to memory sticks) I've always kept at least some of my work on real paper, in a traditional hardbound notebook. In ink. Dated. You know the drill.

I've been reluctant to let go of pen and paper. Just as I still outline just about any piece of writing, including this one, on real paper, I find I think differently off the keyboard. Keyboards tend to enforce a certain linearity of thinking, while a sheet of paper (or several and lots of stickies) lets me move into multiple dimensions, with fewer restrictions on insertions and more flexibility in formatting.

The work I'm doing now in the archives is facilitated by having photos of what I'm reading, many of the bound copies are too fragile to routinely scan or photocopy. Ironically, reading 19th century journals has catapulted me into the 21st century as far as my own record keeping is concerned. I'm using an integrated notebook app on my iPad which allows me to scribble and sketch by hand, take and incorporate photos (and mark them up if I wish), and input text from the keyboard. Finally, I can tag pages, and filter the notebook by tags (more consistent than my own hand written indexing procedures). The only thing I don't care for is that I can't write as small as I wish, making it harder to get an overall view of where I'm going. It's an experiment still,

Today's Nature [Nature 481, 410(2012)] has an editorial and an analysis piece on digital record keeping in science. One scientist notes that paper has nothing to offer her - she's gone entirely to her iPad. I may be right behind.

A curious invention: drawing chemical structures

I am currently wending my way through fragile but fascinating volumes of Chemical News - a journal published by Sir William Crookes in the late 19th and early 20th century. It was a major journal at the time, looking rather like the current Nature in it's breadth of coverage. The society journals of the time typically reserved their pages for papers read by members and abstracts of papers thought to be of interest to them, while Chemical News and it's ilk included book reviews, reports of papers from a wide swath of journals in several languages and two robust arenas for conversation between scientists, readers and editors: Correspondence and Notes & Queries. They were a bit more open, too, to offer space to offbeat bits of science.

The volume I just finished (1890) has a rather contentious conversational thread winding through the Correspondence on what it means to be a FCS (Fellow of the Chemical Society) and should membership be more tightly policed vis a vis their chemical credentials. (At one point the secretaries of the Chemical Society accuse a former board member of having used fake letterhead to secure support for his position!) Many participants in the conversation resort to pseudonyms, some of which carry a bit of snark with them, and it's interesting that this controversy is playing out primarily in a commercial journal and not in organs internal to the Society.

My project involves tracking the correspondence around primary reports of research findings, so these raucous conversations, while fun reads, are of peripheral interest. I'll admit to finding other interesting tidbits to tag in my electronic notebook. It doesn't pay to be overly focussed when doing archive work, as long as I can avoid being completely dragged down the rabbit hole.

The Notes & Queries section appears just above the one page of adverts included in each issue, and yesterday this ad caught my eye: "The Benzene Nucleus. — An India-rubber Stamp in nickel-plated locket with ink-pad enclosed" 3s. At the top of the page, the last bit of editorial content appears — a report of a curious invention: a stamp for making benzene rings. The first benzene ring in a journal appeared in Chemical News (in 1879, eight years after the first graphical structure was used), so perhaps it's apt that it report this "little contriviance" in its pages. (And the inventor is a Fellow of the Chemical Society!)


Nowadays chemical structure drawing programs are commonplace, but when I was a graduate student chemical structures had to be hand drawn, using India ink (permanent, not water soluble!) on vellum. The Rapidograph pens used were expensive and notorious for getting clogged (irreversibly so). Rings were made using stencils, text added using mechanical lettering guides. Jiggle your hand and you had trouble that white-out might not be able to rescue you from. Blots? Argh.

I don't miss the days of chancy ink drawings for slide and papers, though I do miss the delight of pulling out pens and ink and paper. I do wonder, though, if note taking organic students would appreciate a little ink stamp of a benzene ring on the end of their pencil or pen?

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Read about K&E lettering sets here.

What makes a molecule beautiful?

I just finished a piece for the March issue of Nature Chemistry on what (in my mind) make a molecule beautiful. I will admit a preference for sparer, less baroque structures. (If you want to know more about my molecular aesthetic, you'll have to wait for the piece to appear!). In the meantime there is an article in this month's Nature Chemistry with the intriguing title "Quantifying the Chemical Beauty of Drugs" [Bickerton et al. Nature Chem. 4, 93-97 (2012), full text is free]. It's not so much beauty in the abstract these chemists are trying to quantitatively capture, but desirability. How attractive is this molecule as a target for drug development? Would a chemist be willing to surrender time and bench space to the synthesis of this molecule?

The model takes as its inspiration Lipinski's rule of 5. If most or all of Lipinski's five characteristics are present, a molecule has a good chance of being a viable candidate for an oral drug [Lipinkski et al. Adv. Drug Dev. Rev. 23 3-25 (1997)]. The goal is to develop an expert model system, one that mimics (or improves on) a chemist's intuition about what makes for a good drug.

Earlier work had suggested that chemical fashion sense is drifting toward more baroque structures for their drugs, despite various rule sets that suggest that bloated molecules are less likely to survive to clinical trials. Chemists apparently like their molecules "tractable" (which would seem to mitigate against molecular overelaboration?), synthetically and otherwise! Molecular docility is desirable.

For a somewhat darker take on chemical intuition and seat of the pants drug design read "Chemists in the Shadows" by Adam Piore in March's Discover Magazine. The article focuses on underground chemists who are developing new recreational pharmaceuticals that skirt current drug laws (steroids for athletes, and rave drugs). The conceptual framework used by some of these chemists would be familiar to any medicinal chemist (particularly in the early days, before QSAR).

Being a philosophess

"...as a Philosophess she will not be discouraged by one or two Failures" Benjamin Franklin, in a letter to William Brownrigg dated 7 November 1773, where he wonders if Mrs. Brownrigg has succeeded in making Parmesan cheese (which I have to admit, I did not think was a cheese that colonial Americans knew of).

I appreciate Franklin's confidence that a woman could conduct rational experiments, particularly as at this moment I am virtually sitting on top of the site of Franklin's house in Philadelphia — I can see it from my window — working at being a Philosophess myself. I began a two month stay at the Chemical Heritage Foundation in Philadelphia today, as the Herdegen Fellow in the History of Scientific Information. My project is looking at how chemists, now and in the 19th century, deal with critical commentaries on the primary literature. Where are the commentaries located and does location change their tenor and/or content. I'm off to learn a bit about ways to computationally evalauate emotional tone, and to find some compelling narratives of critique in the 19th century and the 21st century.

I briefly wondered in my most recent Nature Chemistry Thesis column about what it meant for me to be working as both a historian of chemistry and a chemist, and how much of one field should we be exposing students of the other field to. Just how much history of chemistry does a chemist need to know to function well as a chemist? And if you do need to know something, what sorts of things? Dates? People? Materials? Methods? You can read my musings at Nature Chem, and those of Qian Wang and Chris Toumey on the same topic here. (Sorry...you or your institution need a subscription to see these, or if you would like a reprint of mine, drop me an email.)

Can gender gaps impede scientific progress?

My commentary on Marie Curie and the paucity of women chemistry Nobel laureates ends wondering

"...if what underlies the inability to fully acknowledge the social biases that obscure and downplay women’s scientific achievements, and the ways in which our spaces silently speak to us about who belongs and who doesn’t, who appears capable and who does not, is the assumption that if a Marie doesn’t make a critical breakthrough, of course, a Pierre somewhere will. Will chemistry make all the critical leaps it could, without the contribution of half of its finest minds?"

Last week, the president of Bryn Mawr College (where I teach) had an opinion piece in Inside Higher Ed about closing the gap for women in science and engineering. She, too, worries that progress in science and technology is impeded by lack of participation by women (and I would add the lack of recognition for women's work in these fields) President McAuliffe writes "As long as there is a gender gap in these fields, there will be an innovation gap."

Some readers of McAuliffe's essay had a hard time imagining that scientific progress could be impeded when women are underrepresented or sidelined in science and said so in the comments. Sam Kean's delightful Disappearing Spoon includes a clear counterexample: In 1934, Ida Noddak suggested the possibility of atomic fission. Her work was dismissed as "ill conceived and unfounded" by Emilio Segre (who won the Nobel prize in physics for the discovery of the anti-proton); Irene Joliet-Curie similarly thought it possible; Lise Meitner definitely discovered fission in 1939 (and Otto Hahn won the Nobel for the discovery).

Another example on the same theme: Lise Meitner also discovered the Auger effect, in 1922, a year before it was discovered by Pierre Auger (for whom it is named).

I realize these are historical examples, but they do prove the point. A blanket disregard (for whatever reason, be it gender, country of origin, venue for publication) for the contributions of a subset of scientists can impede the progress of science. As Matt

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Read about how the cover was made.

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Writing Science: Punch Lines

"When a thing is funny, search it carefully for a hidden truth." George Bernard Shaw

How seriously should we take science? Is science inherently funny - are those odd spots where truth is hidden? Can science be humorous without being a caricature? Do you have to be a scientist to get the joke? What role might humor play in teaching science? And for that matter, why are words with a hard c sound (like cryogenic) funny?



Readings

Brian Malow - superb stand up science comedy
The Big Blog Theory - the science behind the humor on The Big Bang Theory

Periodic table humor.

XKCD a comic strip which carries the warning: "this comic occasionally contains strong language (which may be unsuitable for children), unusual humor (which may be unsuitable for adults), and advanced mathematics (which may be unsuitable for liberal-arts majors)." And apparently unsuitable for high school students, it's blocked as "adult content" where I'm on the web. I'm in the high school nominally supervising the theater tech crew as they construct a set. Don't ask about the decibel level!)

Men of Mystery (subscription only) Taking on the stereotypes of science: why are scientists drawn as guys in white coats with bad hair? M.M Francl, Nature Chemistry, 2, 68-70 (2010).

Scientists should blog about their pets

My latest Thesis column is out in March's Nature Chemisty: Blogging on the sidelines (subscription needed). In part a response to Royce Murray's editorial in Analytical Chemistry last fall, the column considers what the role of blogging critically about the primary literature might be. Does blogging by scientists about science help researches? My short answer is yes, it's an effective post-publication filter, a niche that has been filled at other times in other ways.

But I also think that scientists writing about life in the lab or their pets or commute has a role to play in making better science. That wouldn't fit in the column, so the delightful editors at Nature Chem have posted it on their blog.

Writing Science: The Short and Sweet of It, Titles and Tweets

We're thinking about writing short bits of science with style and precision: titles and tweets, abstracts and blog posts.

What makes a great title? One theory (here) suggests great book titles should be PINC ("pink"): make a promise, create intrigue, identify a need, and/or describe content.

Are there other things that titles should do in a science piece (be it blog post, tweet or scholarly article)? How would you prioritize these for different audiences, different genres?

Should an abstract tease? Is there a place for wit in the formal scientific literature? When? How? Who? Is it OK for someone of Paul Wender's stature to indulge?

Readings

• "Wit" and "Abstracts" Pierre Laszlo, Communicating Science: A practical guide. Springer 2006. p 56, p. 2
• The art(?) of scientific abstract writing From In the pipeline, Derek Lowe
• Four strategies for creating snappy titles. Michael Hyatt
• Writing a scientific paper, From Research to Manuscript: a guide to scientific writing, Michael Jay Katz, Springer, 2006. pp 113-114
• Referee's quotes, Environmental Microbiology (2010) 12(12), 3303–3304

Writing assignment #3
Write 5 tweets pointing colleagues to recent articles in the field (give me title/ref for the article); In 50-100 words comment on the construction of your tweet in light of the criteria you have developed for a good science tweet.

Writing Prompt for the day
Write a series of possible titles for the abstracts below. When you get stuck, move to the next abstract! Five minutes. (Click on the links to see the title the authors chose.)

A. Human infants face the formidable challenge of learning the structure of their social environment. Previous research indicates that infants have early-developing representations of intentional agents, and of cooperative social interactions, that help meet that challenge. Here we report five studies with 144 infant participants showing that 10- to 13-month-old, but not 8-month-old, infants recognize when two novel agents have conflicting goals, and that they use the agents’ relative size to predict the outcome of the very first dominance contests between them. These results suggest that preverbal infants mentally represent social dominance and use a cue that covaries with it phylogenetically, and marks it metaphorically across human cultures and languages, to predict which of two agents is likely to prevail in a conflict of goals. Science 331, 477-480 (2011)

B. The effect of environmental change on ecosystems is mediated by species interactions. Environmental change may remove or add species and shift life-history events, altering which species interact at a given time. However, environmental change may also reconfigure multispecies interactions when both species composition and phenology remain intact. In a Caribbean island system, a major manifestation of environmental change is seaweed deposition, which has been linked to eutrophication, overfishing, and hurricanes. Here, we show in a whole-island field experiment that without seaweed two predators—lizards and ants—had a substantially greater-than-additive effect on herbivory. When seaweed was added to mimic deposition by hurricanes, no interactive predator effect occurred. Thus environmental change can substantially restructure food-web interactions, complicating efforts to predict anthropogenic changes in ecosystem processes. Science 331, 461-463 (2011)

Writing Science: Objectivity

Writing prompt Day 2
Pick one of the objects on the table and write a detailed description of it. You may handle the pieces. If you know the generally accepted name of the object, do not use it in your description. Either way, make up a name for the object.












Assorted questions on the table

• What sorts of editing happen as notes get written? (Everything from the decision to pick up a pen or not -- if it means stripping off your gloves, or mucking up a pen, reliance on memory, distractions of running experimental work, your perspective/focus came up.)
• David Everett suggests exercises for finding your voice - do real writers do things like this? Natalie Goldberg suggests writing without stopping for a set period. (Do real writers 'practice'? How? Why? What might you get out of exercises like these?)
• How are new scientific terms birthed?

Writing along with us? Willing to share? Leave a link in the comments!

Oprah's take on quantum mechanics - and mine

I was checking my blog stats (read seriously procrastinating folding the laundry) and noticed that one of the search terms that was sending surfers to my other blog was "Oprah's take on quantum mechanics". She has one?

I promptly popped it into Google to see what would come up. I had to know.

I found out. The Law of Attraction. Think and you can change what happens. Proven by quantum mechanics. The Quantum Cleanse. (Don't ask - you don't want to know.)

Somehow the word "quantum" manages to sound simultaneously mysterious and scientific, and so people attach it to things that they want to sound simultaneously mysterious and scientific. Like diets and the power of positive thinking, or even theology.

I named my personal blog "Quantum Theology" as a play on the two fields I'm trained in: quantum mechanics and theology. Recently a friend of almost forty years wondered just exactly what was quantum mechanics - just what do I do for a living? Repair broken quantums?

When I say something is quantized, I don't mean it's mysterious, I mean that only certain values are allowed, and nothing in between. A good everyday example is your shoe size. You are a 5 or a 5 1/2, but never a 5 1/6. Off the rack shoes (are there any other kind these days?) are quantized.

To a physicist or physical chemist, a quantum is a fixed portion of energy. (The word was coined by Max Planck in 1900.) Quantum mechanics considers the interaction of energy and matter on the atomic level. What happens when light hits an atom? Why is it that only certain amounts of energy can be absorbed? How is it that matter can behave as a particle, and as a wave? Evidence that matter could behave like a wave suggested to Erwin Schrodinger that he could write an equation to find a mathematical description of this behavior.

So what is it I actually do? I use quantum mechanics — specifically solving Schrodinger's handy little equation — to predict the structures of molecules and their energy, then use that information to think about what molecules might exist, or how hard it would be for them to react and what products are likely to form. Right now I'm exploring molecules that are uncomfortably twisted - and topologically "interesting" (Moebius strip molecules).

My name is Bond.....

Ionic Bond. Taken, not shared.

I caught this pun on a t-shirt at an ACS meeting a few years back. In that same vein In the Pipeline is highlighting this paper in ChemBioChem: Live-Cell Imaging of Cellular Proteins by a Strain-Promoted Azide–Alkyne Cycloaddition. Don't see the connection? Check out the abstract:

Live and let dye: Three coumarin-cyclooctyne conjugates have been used to label proteins tagged with azidohomoalanine in Rat-1 fibroblasts. All three fluorophores labeled intracellular proteins with fluorescence enhancements ranging from eight- to 20-fold. These conjugates are powerful tools for visualizing biomolecule dynamics in living cells.

The NY Times blog on applying to college mused today about the perils of being overly cute on college applications, I wonder what advice they'd give to journals on this score?

Urban Myths of Chemistry Redux: The Enantiomers of Thalidomide

A few months ago I mused about the persistence of an urban myth of chemistry - the meaning of the p in pH. The musings grew into an essay which appeared in Nature Chemistry in August. [Urban legends of chemistry, Nature Chemistry 2, 600 (2010) - caveat, you or your institution need to have a subscription]. The in vivo behavior of the enantiomers of thalidomide turns out to be grist for another persistent myth.

"Ryoji Noyori, who shared the 2001 Nobel Prize in Chemistry for his contributions to asymmetric synthesis, uses the tragedy of thalidomide to open his Nobel lecture: 'A compelling example of the relationship between pharmacological activity and molecular chirality was provided by the tragic administration of thalidomide to pregnant women in the 1960s. (R)-Thalidomide has desirable sedative properties, while its S enantiomer is teratogenic and induces fetal malformations. Such problems arising from inappropriate molecular recognition should be avoided at all costs.'

A close reading of these tales raises more than a few flags. Details differ — was thalidomide marketed for depression or insomnia or morning sickness or to prevent miscarriage? (No, yes, yes and no.) Here is another urban legend of chemistry — with multiple authoritative sources, varying in detail, superficially reasonable, persistent — and with an incredibly compelling plot line. Yet it's not true — as even the tellers acknowledge on occasion. Both forms are teratogenic when administered, as they rapidly racemize in vivo.

Why would chemists pass on urban legends (and ones known to be false, at least in part)? Carl Jung suggested that 'no intellectual formulation comes near the richness and expressiveness of mythical imagery'" ....[read the rest at Nature Chemistry]

Prof. Israel Agranat (whose paper about chiral switches I reference in the essay) wrote me to share that it's not only chemistry textbooks in which these myths circulate. He pointed me to examples, including this one, from the law literature:

Citalopram is a racemate... Such molecules are called chiral (from χειρ, a hand) because, like a pair of hands, they are mirror images which cannot be completely superimposed on each other. They are conventionally designated (+) and (-). It has been well known for many years that, despite their similarities, the two enantiomers may bind to different proteins and produce different biological effects. The most notorious example was thalidomide, which consisted of a (+) enantiomer which was effective to prevent morning sickness in pregnant women and, unknown to the consumers, a (-) enantiomer which was teratogenic and caused severe birth defects." — excerpted from Lord Hoffman's decision of the England and Wales Court of Appeal in the Escitalopram oxalate (Cipralex, Lexapro in the US) patent litigation, H. Ludbeck A/s vesus Generics (UK)

So why do we pass on the legends? My short answer is that resistance is futile!

Better Labs and Gardens: Culinary uses for a rotovap

What kind of lab is this? An anonymous commenter came close with "Biochem/Natural products isolation? "

It's a kitchen. The clue is on the cabinet where it says "3 TBS Sugar". Read here how chef Dave Arnold of the French Culinary Institute in NYC got Buchi to tweak a rotovap for some cool chemistry in the kitchen.

I'm fairly sure the stuff in the beaker is mint.

A Night in the Museum

When I was in elementary school we lived in a small town outside of Chicago. The local rec department had a terrific summer program, drop-in arts & crafts, boating lessons and field trips galore. My favorite trips (besides the outings to Cubs' games) were to the Museum of Science and Industry - what I called the "push-button" museum for all the interactive exhibits. I could go again and again...and did. We were on our own in the museum, something that is probably unthinkable in these hypervigilant days, trusted to return on time to our yellow school bus for the long trip back home.

When I read From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler I didn't dream of running away to the Met in New York, I dreamed of hiding out in the Museum of Science and Industry. I would have slept in the U-boat.

My brother Pat (who I think I could have counted on to be my co-conspirator in such an adventure) sent me an announcement for a competition to spend a month living my all time favorite museum. Alas, I'm not on sabbatical, and am so committed for the fall that there is no way I could go, even if I could survive the competition. But a girl can dream, can't she?

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Photo of The Museum of Science and Industry, Chicago, IL. Photographed 9 April 2006. © Jeremy Atherton, 2006. Used under CC license.

Better Labs and Gardens: A challenge

I've been doing some research for home renovation projects this summer (new cabinets for the kitchen) and came across this quiz to determine "your decorating style". (For the record, I don't have one!) It got me thinking about lab spaces and how they reflect the work done in them, as well as the scientists.

Labs and research spaces have a certain aesthetic to them. Biochem labs have a different "style" than synthetic labs than laser labs than...right down to a preferred palette of wall colors (for some reason, I associate white with biochem labs, black or deep blue with laser labs) and what sort of signs you'll find on the doors going in (eye protection required) and going out (did you remember to fill the trap?).

Take a look at the bench in the photo and see if you can correctly identify the research field. Organic, inorganic, or....

Look for the answer tomorrow!

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Is your lab an architectural or decorating wonder? Could we identify your field from a photo of your bench or lab? Want to play? Send me a photo.

Link to the photo will come tomorrow (otherwise I'd give away the answer...)

Chemical Urban Legends: pH

What does the p in pH stand for?

The term pH has been in use for more than a century. It is a logarithmic measure of the hydrogen ion concentration ([H+]): pH = -log10[H+]. (Technically, there aren't bare protons (H+) floating around in solutions, but that wasn’t known when pH was introduced!) The original symbol used by Sorensen was p_H⁺.

Theories vary as to the origin of the p - most agree it means power but whether in Latin, French or German, seems in dispute. Thinking it would be either French or Latin as the original paper was published in French, I was surprised to find that it's neither, though the legend is both old and persistent. By 1920, many authors were assuming that it meant “power”, but Jens Norby returned to the original sources and points out that it was the arbitrary choice of the letters p and q for two variables in the work-up of the experimental data. The variable p eventually ends up in the formula arrived at for the concentration of the hydrogen ion.

The modern form pH was introduced in 1920, "as a matter of typographical convenience".

For the full explanation, see Jens G. Norby, The origin and the meaning of the little p in pH, Trends in Biochemical Sciences 25, 36-37 (2000). The illustration is a selection from the original paper: Sorensen, Compt. redn. du Lab. de Carlsberg 8 1-168 (1909).

Open Laboratory 2009

Open Laboratory 2009 - a juried anthology of the best of the science blogosphere from last year has appeared. Edited by scicurious, it's available here. I have a piece in it - a cleaner version of this post on the use of helium to preserve documents. I'm fascinated with the interplay between web and print that ultimately produces this volume.

Want a copy? Order one -- or if you're feeling lucky, de-lurk and leave a comment before March 5th and I'll draw a winner at random. The rest of the pieces look great - on everything from the flu to charismatic megafauna (whales and chimps) to the statistics of human milk production.

Nobel Conversations

I vividly remember the first time I met a Nobel Prize winner. I was a graduate student in my 3rd year, and Roald Hoffman had recently won the Prize in chemistry (1981). A group of us went up with our research advisor (who had worked with Hoffman as an undergraduate) to hear him speak at a symposium at USC. On the drive up we were briefed as to behavior - do not speak unless spoken to. Frankly, we were happy enough to be out of the lab as well as treated to lunch (and to a terrific speaker). Lunch was at picnic tables in an outdoor courtyard - the grad students all clustered at a table on the edge. Imagine our surprise (and delight) when Hoffman joined us at the table, and spent lunch asking us what we were doing for research, and what excited us most about chemistry. I, at least, left with the sense that I was an interesting part of the chemical community -- even if a very junior one.

The Noble organization and Honeywell are offering the opportunity to anyone to ask a question of Nobel winners. The next live broadcast is Tuesday, March 2 at 11:15am (-6hrs GMT), when you can hear Robert Grubbs, who won the chemistry prize in 2005 for his discovery of olefin metathesis (a method to rearrange carbon-carbon double bonds using metal catalysts). I wrote my oral exam proposal on olefin metathesis in 1982 - I was fascinated then, and am still, with these atomic level architectural changes.

The best part? You can ask questions - email them to question@honeywellscience.com or go through Twitter or Facebook.

Are scientists palatable?

In the early part of the 19th century, the word scientist had yet to be coined. As the scope of materials and phenomena that natural philosophers and historians dealt with increased, there was a growing sense that these terms were inadequate to describing the task of this new breed of inquirers. In the 1830s, the British Association for the Advancement of Science explored potential candidates, but ultimately rejected various proposed terms, including scientist:

"Philosophers was felt to be too wide and too lofty a term,..; savans was rather assuming,..; some ingenious gentleman proposed that, by analogy with artist, they might form scientist, and added that there could be no scruple in making free with this termination when we have such words as sciolist, economist, and atheist — but this was not generally palatable."

The need remained, however, and a decade later, William Whewell, a philosopher and biologist pushed the issue again: “We need very much a name to describe a cultivator of science in general. I should incline to call him a Scientist.” This time it stuck.

Once the name stuck, an image quickly became attached -- wild hair, lab coats and odd apparatus all became part and parcel of what it means to be a scientist. My most recent Thesis columnin Nature Chemistry -- Men of Mystery -- takes up popular images of scientists, and considers the impact the images might have on public discourse about science.

UPDATED: See Snail's Tails post about philosophy and philosophical instruments. The ad for the "philosophical instrument makers" is fascinating!

Chemistry on Holiday: Science Cookies

'tis the season for baking on the home front. It's been mostly biologically based leavening (yeast) at my house, but some strictly chemical rising has been going on as well. For an interesting mix of chemistry and biology in the kitchen check out Not So Humble Pie's science cookies: zebrafish, drosophila, gel electrophoresis and atoms are on the menu. Something to keep in mind for the next snow day around here...