What is in a kiss? Consciously, it's a method of showing affection or getting a partner sexually aroused. Subconsciously it's a lot more. Sure, kissing helps build a more stable, fulfilling relationship, but before you even commit to the guy it guides you to mates who are genetically compatible. Lots of stuff from a relatively simple, if close, encounter.
Why do I mention this on my writing blog? 'Cause a lot of books have kissing in them. While kissing is often included as a sexy, romantic start of the relationship, how often do characters think about the smell of the man/woman they're kissing? How often does a kiss suddenly confer intimate knowledge of the health of the prospective partner? I submit kissing, as often as it's included in fiction, is underutilized as an information conveying tool.
Speaking of evolutionary(ish) science and mating, it turns out that, at least for a group of hunter-gatherers in Africa (who you can see here), women who have extramarital affairs resulting in children have better reproductive success than similar women who don't. A caveat--the women in question are all in arranged marriages, so the extramarital affairs are likely helping them in substantive ways that wouldn't be the case in a love match. Still, kinda cool that there may be a subconscious reason for women to look around even while in a stable relationship. Usually we assume only men have a reason. Guess again!
Other cool science I've read this week:
Unintended consequences of controlling phosphorus pollution: nitrogen pollution. Okay, totally including this one because it's something I want to work into my own writing. Here's the background--we all know that phosphates are environmentally unfriendly. That's why we're encouraged to be frugal with our soap use and why soaps are being reformulated to not have phosphates in them (much to the chagrin of clean freaks everywhere since phosphate containing soaps are so much more effective than non-phosphate soaps). Anyway, we've done such a good job controlling phosphate pollution that we've also seen a marked decrease in the number of oxygen-stealing, fish-killing algal blooms. Unfortunately, we've also seen more nitrate pollution, which has its own nasty impacts on water quality, apparently because the phosphate-induced algal blooms were cleaning out the nitrates that otherwise accumulate in the water. Yeah.
Any fascinating conflicts jump out of this week's melange for you?
Sunday, October 13, 2013
Sunday, October 6, 2013
Sponges in the marine desert
One of the things I think is most awesome about science is when people identify or otherwise figure out the awesome adaptations animals have that allow them to live in places you simply wouldn't expect them to live. This week's Science Sunday is featuring an article out of Science magazine that reports why coral reefs are able to exist in parts of the ocean that would otherwise be considered marine deserts.
Mostly a thriving, productive ecosystem is only possible in places where nutrients are abundant. In the oceans that means near upwelling regions, like the coast of California and South America, the west coast of Africa, parts of the coast of Antarctica, and the equatorial Pacific ocean. All of those places have significant upwelling and, consequently, an intense blooming of life.
Those regions are far from the only productive parts of the ocean. Indeed, some of the highest diversity and highest productivity in the ocean occurs at coral reefs, which occur primarily in areas lacking significant upwelling or other nutrient inputs. In fact, coral reefs occur in regions that are so nutrient poor they're considered marine deserts. The question is, how does that happen? We know that corals have photosynthetic symbiotes, but are they productive enough to overcome the nutrient scarcity of the local environment?
In a word, no. But sponges are. Sponges, which are really heterotrophs turn out to be major producers of biomass on reefs. They filter out dissolved organic matter (DOM--basically any carbon-containing molecule or larger particle in the water) and turn it into their cells. Filter cells then get spewed out into the larger ecosystem and consumed by everything else, supporting much of the food chain. The cool thing about the de Gooj, et al. article is that it suggests the amount of waste produced by the sponges is close to the amount of gross primary production required by the coral reef ecosystem.
How does that work into fiction? Well, imagine you need to create an ecosystem on a desert planet and need to come up with some way to support that ecosystem. Sponges (or some analog) are very simple, easily overlooked creatures, and might be one way to support your ecosystem. If, say, you wanted to give your story a relatively hard science feel to it.
Mostly a thriving, productive ecosystem is only possible in places where nutrients are abundant. In the oceans that means near upwelling regions, like the coast of California and South America, the west coast of Africa, parts of the coast of Antarctica, and the equatorial Pacific ocean. All of those places have significant upwelling and, consequently, an intense blooming of life.
Those regions are far from the only productive parts of the ocean. Indeed, some of the highest diversity and highest productivity in the ocean occurs at coral reefs, which occur primarily in areas lacking significant upwelling or other nutrient inputs. In fact, coral reefs occur in regions that are so nutrient poor they're considered marine deserts. The question is, how does that happen? We know that corals have photosynthetic symbiotes, but are they productive enough to overcome the nutrient scarcity of the local environment?
In a word, no. But sponges are. Sponges, which are really heterotrophs turn out to be major producers of biomass on reefs. They filter out dissolved organic matter (DOM--basically any carbon-containing molecule or larger particle in the water) and turn it into their cells. Filter cells then get spewed out into the larger ecosystem and consumed by everything else, supporting much of the food chain. The cool thing about the de Gooj, et al. article is that it suggests the amount of waste produced by the sponges is close to the amount of gross primary production required by the coral reef ecosystem.
How does that work into fiction? Well, imagine you need to create an ecosystem on a desert planet and need to come up with some way to support that ecosystem. Sponges (or some analog) are very simple, easily overlooked creatures, and might be one way to support your ecosystem. If, say, you wanted to give your story a relatively hard science feel to it.
Monday, September 30, 2013
Birthmarked
I love good dystopia. I love reading fun thought experiments where something gets tweaked in the society in an interesting way--banning books, subjecting everyone to the thought police, altering human reproduction in some way--and then we see where that society goes. A good dystopia, in my mind, is one that sheds light on our current society by changing some fundamental and then putting us readers in the position of empathizing (or at least following) someone who has grown up with that fundamental.
I'm not going to list all my favorite dystopian literature, but I am going to say "Birthmarked" is getting a spot on the list. It's about a young girl, Gaia Stone, who is a midwife. As a midwife she's expected to hand over the first three babies she assists in the birthing of to the enclave--basically the walled-off upper eschelon of the society. She has no reason to question this practice. It's well-known that kids inside the enclave live lives of relative luxury, with access to education, better food, and better medicine than those outside the walls can afford. Her older brothers both went to the enclave. She, however, was scarred by and accident with hot wax when she was young and so she wasn't picked to be 'advanced.'
Shortly after she delivers her first baby to the enclave, she discovers her parents have been arrested and taken to the prison inside the enclave. She, of course, has to get them back so she sneaks in, just in time to watch the execution of a very pregnant woman. Gaia convinces the man responsible for disposing of the body that she's a relative and quickly slices open the woman's belly, saving the child but landing in prison. From there she slowly unravels the mystery of why her parents were arrested and why the enclave wants the babies in the first place.
There are a number of reasons why I love this book. First, it is a well-told story. I didn't ever want to put it down and was always anxious to pick it back up.
Second, unlike many science fiction dystopias there weren't any egregiously bad science details for me to get hung up on. This could as accurately be classified as a science fiction novel and the science in it is good. There's no magic science allowing people to control others or know things they shouldn't be able to know.
Third, human life is valued within the framework of the story. One of the things I dislike in many dystopias is that human life is considered worthless, or at least very cheap. That attitude is so thoroughly divorced from my experience as a Western person that I have a hard time accepting it. Sure, under extreme situations those of us raised in the western world would have the potential to treat (some) human lives as expendable, but not as an every-day thing. I think the suicide rates and prevalence of PTSD and other psychological disorders among our combat veterans speaks to that strongly. When you're raised with the idea that human life is sacred, living in a situation in which human life is suddenly completely expendable does serious psychological damage.
With the possible exception of the Hunger Games trilogy, that theme isn't even hinted at. It's just assumed that once society descends into chaos human life will become cheap and will forever stay cheap (Margaret Atwood, I'm looking at you). I simply don't think that's realistic. People raised with a western mindset will reassert the value of human life once some measure of stability is possible again. People are too big an investment, even if you don't educate them all that well, to just throw to the meat grinders.
Lastly, instability doesn't last all that long, certainly not decades. Humans, flexible as they are, like stability and will work--hard--to create it. I'm concurrently (sort of) reading Rob Ziegler's "Seed." It's hard to know how long the conflict in that story's been going on, but it sounds like people have been on the move, dealing with serious ecological disasters for decades. That's simply not realistic. Yes, people have been nomadic in the past, but with much smaller population densities. If we returned to a nomadic lifestyle, even if it were a sort of itinerant farming kind of lifestyle, human population would drop to the level that would be supported ecologically within a few years at most and you'd stop having mass starvation all the time. Droughts, floods, or other disasters would occasionally stomp on the remaining human population, but those events wouldn't be yearly. So, yeah, the image of starving farmers drifting zombie-like across the plains is heart-wrenching and frightening, but not realistic.
Far more realistic is the image painted by O'Brien: a smallish city, isolated, but eking out an existence based on locally available resources and the remnants of technology preserved by the (now) upper echelons of the society.
I'm not going to list all my favorite dystopian literature, but I am going to say "Birthmarked" is getting a spot on the list. It's about a young girl, Gaia Stone, who is a midwife. As a midwife she's expected to hand over the first three babies she assists in the birthing of to the enclave--basically the walled-off upper eschelon of the society. She has no reason to question this practice. It's well-known that kids inside the enclave live lives of relative luxury, with access to education, better food, and better medicine than those outside the walls can afford. Her older brothers both went to the enclave. She, however, was scarred by and accident with hot wax when she was young and so she wasn't picked to be 'advanced.'
Shortly after she delivers her first baby to the enclave, she discovers her parents have been arrested and taken to the prison inside the enclave. She, of course, has to get them back so she sneaks in, just in time to watch the execution of a very pregnant woman. Gaia convinces the man responsible for disposing of the body that she's a relative and quickly slices open the woman's belly, saving the child but landing in prison. From there she slowly unravels the mystery of why her parents were arrested and why the enclave wants the babies in the first place.
There are a number of reasons why I love this book. First, it is a well-told story. I didn't ever want to put it down and was always anxious to pick it back up.
Second, unlike many science fiction dystopias there weren't any egregiously bad science details for me to get hung up on. This could as accurately be classified as a science fiction novel and the science in it is good. There's no magic science allowing people to control others or know things they shouldn't be able to know.
Third, human life is valued within the framework of the story. One of the things I dislike in many dystopias is that human life is considered worthless, or at least very cheap. That attitude is so thoroughly divorced from my experience as a Western person that I have a hard time accepting it. Sure, under extreme situations those of us raised in the western world would have the potential to treat (some) human lives as expendable, but not as an every-day thing. I think the suicide rates and prevalence of PTSD and other psychological disorders among our combat veterans speaks to that strongly. When you're raised with the idea that human life is sacred, living in a situation in which human life is suddenly completely expendable does serious psychological damage.
With the possible exception of the Hunger Games trilogy, that theme isn't even hinted at. It's just assumed that once society descends into chaos human life will become cheap and will forever stay cheap (Margaret Atwood, I'm looking at you). I simply don't think that's realistic. People raised with a western mindset will reassert the value of human life once some measure of stability is possible again. People are too big an investment, even if you don't educate them all that well, to just throw to the meat grinders.
Lastly, instability doesn't last all that long, certainly not decades. Humans, flexible as they are, like stability and will work--hard--to create it. I'm concurrently (sort of) reading Rob Ziegler's "Seed." It's hard to know how long the conflict in that story's been going on, but it sounds like people have been on the move, dealing with serious ecological disasters for decades. That's simply not realistic. Yes, people have been nomadic in the past, but with much smaller population densities. If we returned to a nomadic lifestyle, even if it were a sort of itinerant farming kind of lifestyle, human population would drop to the level that would be supported ecologically within a few years at most and you'd stop having mass starvation all the time. Droughts, floods, or other disasters would occasionally stomp on the remaining human population, but those events wouldn't be yearly. So, yeah, the image of starving farmers drifting zombie-like across the plains is heart-wrenching and frightening, but not realistic.
Far more realistic is the image painted by O'Brien: a smallish city, isolated, but eking out an existence based on locally available resources and the remnants of technology preserved by the (now) upper echelons of the society.
Sunday, September 29, 2013
Sunday Science
These will likely be pretty quick posts in general, more notes on something cool I've read that might spark a story idea or add fullness to world building.
Here's one that I already kind of knew from my own research, but in canonized form. According to the 2013 IPCC summary, the water cycle has changed noticeably in roughly the ways we expect. I'm linking to this post that quotes the relevant section rather than the entire document, but if you want to see the whole thing, it's linked too. Anyway, in a nutshell, what the summary of the summary says is that snow and ice cover has decreased and the frequency and intensity of extreme precipitation events has increased thanks to anthropogenic warming. Also, the amount of the Earth's surface that is subject to the monsoon has increased.
Obviously not all bad--more summertime rain for the regions with monsoons is probably a good thing, especially since those tend to be the regions that depend on snow pack or glacial melting. Not all good, though, since snow pack is an important water source for many semi-arid regions, meaning droughts are likely to become more severe.
Why I like this for science fiction: there are plenty of stories where weather plays a role in setting the tone. Not that I have numbers, but tone or mood is probably the most frequent use for weather period. That makes sense, since most of the time weather is backdrop to the action of life. There are a few where storms or droughts are significant parts of the plot, but not often in science fiction or fantasy. Kim Stanley Robinson incorporates extreme weather into the "40 Days of Rain" series (which is specifically about global warming) and Brandon Sanderson includes highstorms (which are magical in nature, so probably don't really belong here, but I like the usage) in "The Way of Kings." Mostly they are plot devices, a way to throw in some man vs. nature action. This is mostly to say that such man vs. nature is likely to become more prominent in our future.
Here's one that I already kind of knew from my own research, but in canonized form. According to the 2013 IPCC summary, the water cycle has changed noticeably in roughly the ways we expect. I'm linking to this post that quotes the relevant section rather than the entire document, but if you want to see the whole thing, it's linked too. Anyway, in a nutshell, what the summary of the summary says is that snow and ice cover has decreased and the frequency and intensity of extreme precipitation events has increased thanks to anthropogenic warming. Also, the amount of the Earth's surface that is subject to the monsoon has increased.
Obviously not all bad--more summertime rain for the regions with monsoons is probably a good thing, especially since those tend to be the regions that depend on snow pack or glacial melting. Not all good, though, since snow pack is an important water source for many semi-arid regions, meaning droughts are likely to become more severe.
Why I like this for science fiction: there are plenty of stories where weather plays a role in setting the tone. Not that I have numbers, but tone or mood is probably the most frequent use for weather period. That makes sense, since most of the time weather is backdrop to the action of life. There are a few where storms or droughts are significant parts of the plot, but not often in science fiction or fantasy. Kim Stanley Robinson incorporates extreme weather into the "40 Days of Rain" series (which is specifically about global warming) and Brandon Sanderson includes highstorms (which are magical in nature, so probably don't really belong here, but I like the usage) in "The Way of Kings." Mostly they are plot devices, a way to throw in some man vs. nature action. This is mostly to say that such man vs. nature is likely to become more prominent in our future.
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Science and fiction
I love science fiction. I love the tropes and the exploration of the what if scenario. I love hard sci-fi, where the physics of the world create the drama and I love space opera, even thought it might as well be fantasy.
I don't write science fiction, though. At least not often. I'm far more likely to create a fantasy setting than a science fiction one for the simple reason that I like science too much. I get far too wrapped up in the world building and forget about the human drama, which makes for pretty boring stories.
I have definite world-builder's disease.
It's a shame, too, because there's so much human drama still to be explored. To pick on my own science, climate change has a huge impact on populations, yet it's not something that's very often a feature of books. Part of that is scale, I'm sure. It's easy to tackle a single event--a flood or drought, hurricane, tornado, or tsunami--but the human lifetime is too short to really register climate change. Historically, climate change has more often been the driver of extinction, yet apocalyptic fiction tends to utilize things like plagues, nuclear winters, and meteorites to kill off the majority of the human species. Again, the scale is the issue here. Climate change is slow and a relatively slow famine isn't sexy.
There's also nothing to be done about one.
My plan over the next who knows how long is to post a weekly feature talking about something I've seen in the science world that I think would create interesting drama, or at least flesh out the world of a story. At worst, it's an excuse for me to spend some time talking about cool science ideas I think are underutilized or too poorly known.
Cheers!
I don't write science fiction, though. At least not often. I'm far more likely to create a fantasy setting than a science fiction one for the simple reason that I like science too much. I get far too wrapped up in the world building and forget about the human drama, which makes for pretty boring stories.
I have definite world-builder's disease.
It's a shame, too, because there's so much human drama still to be explored. To pick on my own science, climate change has a huge impact on populations, yet it's not something that's very often a feature of books. Part of that is scale, I'm sure. It's easy to tackle a single event--a flood or drought, hurricane, tornado, or tsunami--but the human lifetime is too short to really register climate change. Historically, climate change has more often been the driver of extinction, yet apocalyptic fiction tends to utilize things like plagues, nuclear winters, and meteorites to kill off the majority of the human species. Again, the scale is the issue here. Climate change is slow and a relatively slow famine isn't sexy.
There's also nothing to be done about one.
My plan over the next who knows how long is to post a weekly feature talking about something I've seen in the science world that I think would create interesting drama, or at least flesh out the world of a story. At worst, it's an excuse for me to spend some time talking about cool science ideas I think are underutilized or too poorly known.
Cheers!
Saturday, August 24, 2013
Salisbury writer's forum
Today I went to my second writing conference. Lots of good thoughts, but I'm tired and headachy, and I've worn heel far too long today. So, here are a few highlights from my notes.
There is no big secret to getting published. Work hard at your craft.
Each project brings new challenges. Some lessons learned will be helpful; others might hold your writing back. Learn when to rewrite and when to leave it alone for a while.
A memory file (the mind) needs frequent updates. That's why some of us write.
Successful writers have at least one of the following:
--A spouse who earns a lot of money. Allows freedom to devote oneself to writing.
--Personal ability to not feel responsible for other people.
--The capacity to generate a revenue stream from writing related activities (speaking, involvement in conferences and workshops, etc.).
--Good enough to get out of Australian market.
First page reading by editors/agents showed how subjective liking someone's work is. None of the submissions were universally liked, though basically if one person hated it, everyone hated it. There is a basic level of good writing, but beyond that it's subjective. I really wish I'd submitted something, but oh well--next year.
Lots more, but mostly it was just fun to hang out with a bunch of other writers.
There is no big secret to getting published. Work hard at your craft.
Each project brings new challenges. Some lessons learned will be helpful; others might hold your writing back. Learn when to rewrite and when to leave it alone for a while.
A memory file (the mind) needs frequent updates. That's why some of us write.
Successful writers have at least one of the following:
--A spouse who earns a lot of money. Allows freedom to devote oneself to writing.
--Personal ability to not feel responsible for other people.
--The capacity to generate a revenue stream from writing related activities (speaking, involvement in conferences and workshops, etc.).
--Good enough to get out of Australian market.
First page reading by editors/agents showed how subjective liking someone's work is. None of the submissions were universally liked, though basically if one person hated it, everyone hated it. There is a basic level of good writing, but beyond that it's subjective. I really wish I'd submitted something, but oh well--next year.
Lots more, but mostly it was just fun to hang out with a bunch of other writers.
Friday, August 23, 2013
Oblivion
A few nights ago my husband and I watched Oblivion. Visually it's a stunning. The genesis of the movie in a graphic novel is obvious.
But...
I'm enough of a scientist that I have a hard time shutting off the analytic/logical part of my brain. While I can kind of ignore little logic holes in fantasy by pretending there are just different physics (to a degree, in any case) I'm very critical of science fiction. Thus, my not so impressedness with Beth Revis' "Across the Universe."
Oblivion falls short for me in the logic. Not that I can totally remember everything, but there were enough little things--claiming Chicago sits on bedrock; no explanation of the aliens stealing Earth's water when there are other more water-rich planets in our solar system; Tom Cruise's magic impregnation of his wife who was an astronaut and thus almost certainly on birth control; the convenient way in which the plot drives when the probes get shot, rather than there being, I don't know, a spot on them that has to be hit--enough little things that bugged me just enough that I couldn't quite turn off the science brain.
But...
I'm enough of a scientist that I have a hard time shutting off the analytic/logical part of my brain. While I can kind of ignore little logic holes in fantasy by pretending there are just different physics (to a degree, in any case) I'm very critical of science fiction. Thus, my not so impressedness with Beth Revis' "Across the Universe."
Oblivion falls short for me in the logic. Not that I can totally remember everything, but there were enough little things--claiming Chicago sits on bedrock; no explanation of the aliens stealing Earth's water when there are other more water-rich planets in our solar system; Tom Cruise's magic impregnation of his wife who was an astronaut and thus almost certainly on birth control; the convenient way in which the plot drives when the probes get shot, rather than there being, I don't know, a spot on them that has to be hit--enough little things that bugged me just enough that I couldn't quite turn off the science brain.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)