FYI, this has been a collaborative blogging effort bought to you by @Captain_Doug and @gingerbreadlady (me).
Catch-up:
Part I (by me)
Part II (by Doug)
Part III (by me)
Part IV (by Doug)
Wow.
If there are witty remarks to be made about this episode, I'm sure I don't know what they are. Words that spring immediately to mind are: dark, harrowing, bleak, depressing...
To recap, at the end of Episode III, planet Earth was ordered to surrender 10% of its children to an alien race. (Or all would perish.) We didn't know what, exactly, they were intending to do to them, but we knew it wasn't going to be all candy bars and dominoes. Today, we learn that the kids are to be kept alive to produce chemicals that make the aliens "feel good" - drugs.
So, to cut a long story short, the Government caves in and agrees to do the aliens' bidding, covering up the whole miserable affair with a rubbish and unforgivable lie about the kids being taken to have inoculations that will stop them doing the evil, scary chanting thing.
There's about three seconds when we think (hope) everything's going to fine and dandy - ten minutes from the end, when Captain Jack rips off his coat and proclaims, "Let's get to work." Then everything gets much, much darker.
Whether Jack's twisted plan makes any scientific sense, I've no idea, but I've stopped paying any attention to the physics by this point. The Captain channels a "constructive wave" (a genuine scientific term, by the seem of it, but who cares?) through his grandson, cycling the aliens' death wavelength back at them and killing his own flesh and blood in the process.
It's an extremely hard-to-watch finale, particularly as we know Jack is fully aware of what will happen. Even Mr Hayley, who never flinches at this sort of thing, is fidgety throughout.
Well, it does the trick alright - the aliens beat a hasty retreat - but we're left with a bitter taste in our mouths. And worst of all, the hateful Prime Minister seems to think it's all been a bit of a lark. He feels "lucky", apparently.
I have to say, it did make me wonder (seriously) what the Government would actually do if we were invaded by child-chemical dependent aliens... blimey, must be good storytelling.
I suppose I should take back everything I said before about predictable endings, particularly with regard to Jack's redemption. In the final scene, with only one member of the Torchwood team left alive to see him on his way, he exits Earth for a "cold fusion carrier" somewhere out in space and we're left wondering: is this the end for Torchwood? Surely not...
10 July 2009
08 July 2009
Torchwood co-blog: part III, in which it all kicks off... a bit more
FYI, this is a collaborative blogging effort bought to you by @Captain_Doug and @gingerbreadlady (me). Check out Doug's blog tomorrow for the penultimate installment...
Catch-up:
Part I (by me)
Part II (by Doug)
Well, there's one thing to be glad about after Episode III - no more scary chanting children. The aliens (the "456") have finally arrived and agreed to stop using them as communication tools. Goody.
Oh, but they want some kids giftwrapped to take home with them - 10%, in fact. How rude. We build them a nice, comfy little glass box full of poisonous gases to land in and how do they repay us? Make off with our children. Tuh.
Actually, this leads quite well into a discussion of overpopulation issues, which I won't go into in detail here, but as population control measures go, mass alien abduction ain't a bad solution. Depending on the motives of the particular aliens in question, it could be preferable to, say, a horrible flesh-eating infectious disease or some sort of Logan's Run type scenario. At least you get to see space before you die.
But forget the serious issues for a minute... GADGETS! Yay! The BBC, which has obviously spared no expense in creating its aliens (glass box full of smoke and the occasional squelchy sound/Jurassic Park-style screech or splatter of vomit-like liquid), is really spoiling us with its lip-reading software and high-tech contact lenses. Weeeeell, the lenses are kind of cool, I suppose - basically, they give the wearer cameras for eyes, allowing them to transmit pictures of aliens back to Torchwood HQ. Although they come in fairly disappointing white plastic cases, like normal contact lenses.
Where was I? Ah, yes. 10% of the children. Now, as we've known since Episode I, these aliens have a taste for kids. (Just a thought, but perhaps they're actually eating them? Or do we need a more sophisticated reason for monsters stealing children these days?) A few were harvested when the 456 showed up back in the sixties.
But. Shock! Horror! Guess who handed them over before? Why, none other than our hero Captain Jack Harkness! My, what a lot of gasping this caused on Twitter. Come on guys, he only gave them 12 - not so much of a sacrifice really. Especially compared to 10% of all the kids. Luckily, @Blue_Chameleon has a solution: "Easy. Send the dumbest, chavviest 10%." (And, adds @duckorange, "They can have my two if it helps.")
So, what next? Round up all the poor numpties no one wants and wave them off... or... two days of alien ass-kicking punctuated by smutty references to what Captain Jack and Ianto get up to in their tea breaks, a "surprise" late arrival by UNIT's Dr Martha Jones, some tears over Gwen's (probably alien) baby, Jack's absolution for his prior sins and the safe return of all the children to Earth. I dunno, it's a close call.
And it's back to you, Doug.
Catch-up:
Part I (by me)
Part II (by Doug)
Well, there's one thing to be glad about after Episode III - no more scary chanting children. The aliens (the "456") have finally arrived and agreed to stop using them as communication tools. Goody.
Oh, but they want some kids giftwrapped to take home with them - 10%, in fact. How rude. We build them a nice, comfy little glass box full of poisonous gases to land in and how do they repay us? Make off with our children. Tuh.
Actually, this leads quite well into a discussion of overpopulation issues, which I won't go into in detail here, but as population control measures go, mass alien abduction ain't a bad solution. Depending on the motives of the particular aliens in question, it could be preferable to, say, a horrible flesh-eating infectious disease or some sort of Logan's Run type scenario. At least you get to see space before you die.
But forget the serious issues for a minute... GADGETS! Yay! The BBC, which has obviously spared no expense in creating its aliens (glass box full of smoke and the occasional squelchy sound/Jurassic Park-style screech or splatter of vomit-like liquid), is really spoiling us with its lip-reading software and high-tech contact lenses. Weeeeell, the lenses are kind of cool, I suppose - basically, they give the wearer cameras for eyes, allowing them to transmit pictures of aliens back to Torchwood HQ. Although they come in fairly disappointing white plastic cases, like normal contact lenses.
Where was I? Ah, yes. 10% of the children. Now, as we've known since Episode I, these aliens have a taste for kids. (Just a thought, but perhaps they're actually eating them? Or do we need a more sophisticated reason for monsters stealing children these days?) A few were harvested when the 456 showed up back in the sixties.But. Shock! Horror! Guess who handed them over before? Why, none other than our hero Captain Jack Harkness! My, what a lot of gasping this caused on Twitter. Come on guys, he only gave them 12 - not so much of a sacrifice really. Especially compared to 10% of all the kids. Luckily, @Blue_Chameleon has a solution: "Easy. Send the dumbest, chavviest 10%." (And, adds @duckorange, "They can have my two if it helps.")
So, what next? Round up all the poor numpties no one wants and wave them off... or... two days of alien ass-kicking punctuated by smutty references to what Captain Jack and Ianto get up to in their tea breaks, a "surprise" late arrival by UNIT's Dr Martha Jones, some tears over Gwen's (probably alien) baby, Jack's absolution for his prior sins and the safe return of all the children to Earth. I dunno, it's a close call.
And it's back to you, Doug.
06 July 2009
Torchwood co-blog: on the first day...
FYI, this is a collaborative blogging effort bought to you by @Captain_Doug and @gingerbreadlady (me). Check out Doug's blog tomorrow for the next installment...
I'm, like, so unprepared for this.
The other day someone casually said, "Isn't Torchwood back on soon?"
As it happens it's on NOW. For five days. In a row.
How did I not know about this?
So this morning I watch the trailer (see below) and it turns out this new series is based around the one thing that freaks me out more than anything else: scary children. Honestly, I still have nightmares about Sixth Sense and, I swear, no one will ever get me to watch The Orphanage, much less The Exorcist. See - I can't even link to them.
Against my better judgement, then, I sit down to watch the first episode with pretentions of writing a science (fiction) communication blog in the same vein as past posts. In reality, it's just an excuse to hide from the scary children behind note-taking.
***SPOILER ALERT***
The premise is this: back in the sixties, a load of kids disappeared. Nobody noticed except for one guy - now a gibbering wreck with an uncanny knack for sniffing out aliens (and ex-police officer turned alien hunter Gwen's unborn child, apparently) - who got left behind. But we don't find out about him until later.
In the present day, every kid in Britain stops dead and starts chanting "We are coming" in the kind of creepy way that is going to have me sitting bolt upright in bed at 3 o'clock tomorrow morning, sweating buckets.
So what does Gwen do? Why, she goes to the amazing super-duper Torchwood computer and types in "children", of course. Thankfully, Torchwood's super-duper computer interprets her request correctly and churns out creepy-children stats for every country in the world. And whadd'ya know? They're all doing it. Dang.
Anyway, cut to the chase. It's aliens. Of course it is. The Government turns a blind eye and issues an (emailed) death warrant for Torchwood-boss Captain Jack, presumably to stop him meddling. (But as @JonathanEx points out: "Who sends death warrants by email? Nowadays I would have thought it'd be a DM [direct message] on Twitter.")
Gwen finds the Guy Who Got Left Behind and spends what seems like half an hour impressing him with flashy gizmos and getting him to tell her his real name. All very well and good, Gwen, but meanwhile Jack is getting killed. Twice. (Yes, we all know he can't die but more to the point, notes @MarkSTaylor, he "must have a hard time sourcing a new coat for every time he gets shot.").
It turns out they put a bomb in Captain Jack's stomach while he was sleeping/dead. KABOOM! Torchwood blows to smithereens whilst tea boy Ianto escapes dramatically but painfully slowly via the lift. Predictably cliffhanger-ish.
What have we learnt from all of this then? You can't trust the Government. Adult hormones interfere with alien transmission signals. So they can't get us - phew. And very little about science. More for us to tear apart tomorrow? Or should I have laid into the alien/pregancy sniffing storyline a bit more? Ah HA-AAA! Gwen's baby IS an alien, perhaps?
And what of the scary children? Well, that was just about as much as I can take. If it gets any worse, I'm going to have to refer to Twitter/Doug's blog posts instead of actually watching it. What is it that makes kids so damn scary?
I'm, like, so unprepared for this.
The other day someone casually said, "Isn't Torchwood back on soon?"
As it happens it's on NOW. For five days. In a row.
How did I not know about this?
So this morning I watch the trailer (see below) and it turns out this new series is based around the one thing that freaks me out more than anything else: scary children. Honestly, I still have nightmares about Sixth Sense and, I swear, no one will ever get me to watch The Orphanage, much less The Exorcist. See - I can't even link to them.
Against my better judgement, then, I sit down to watch the first episode with pretentions of writing a science (fiction) communication blog in the same vein as past posts. In reality, it's just an excuse to hide from the scary children behind note-taking.
***SPOILER ALERT***
The premise is this: back in the sixties, a load of kids disappeared. Nobody noticed except for one guy - now a gibbering wreck with an uncanny knack for sniffing out aliens (and ex-police officer turned alien hunter Gwen's unborn child, apparently) - who got left behind. But we don't find out about him until later.
In the present day, every kid in Britain stops dead and starts chanting "We are coming" in the kind of creepy way that is going to have me sitting bolt upright in bed at 3 o'clock tomorrow morning, sweating buckets.
So what does Gwen do? Why, she goes to the amazing super-duper Torchwood computer and types in "children", of course. Thankfully, Torchwood's super-duper computer interprets her request correctly and churns out creepy-children stats for every country in the world. And whadd'ya know? They're all doing it. Dang.
Anyway, cut to the chase. It's aliens. Of course it is. The Government turns a blind eye and issues an (emailed) death warrant for Torchwood-boss Captain Jack, presumably to stop him meddling. (But as @JonathanEx points out: "Who sends death warrants by email? Nowadays I would have thought it'd be a DM [direct message] on Twitter.")
Gwen finds the Guy Who Got Left Behind and spends what seems like half an hour impressing him with flashy gizmos and getting him to tell her his real name. All very well and good, Gwen, but meanwhile Jack is getting killed. Twice. (Yes, we all know he can't die but more to the point, notes @MarkSTaylor, he "must have a hard time sourcing a new coat for every time he gets shot.").
It turns out they put a bomb in Captain Jack's stomach while he was sleeping/dead. KABOOM! Torchwood blows to smithereens whilst tea boy Ianto escapes dramatically but painfully slowly via the lift. Predictably cliffhanger-ish.
What have we learnt from all of this then? You can't trust the Government. Adult hormones interfere with alien transmission signals. So they can't get us - phew. And very little about science. More for us to tear apart tomorrow? Or should I have laid into the alien/pregancy sniffing storyline a bit more? Ah HA-AAA! Gwen's baby IS an alien, perhaps?
And what of the scary children? Well, that was just about as much as I can take. If it gets any worse, I'm going to have to refer to Twitter/Doug's blog posts instead of actually watching it. What is it that makes kids so damn scary?
03 July 2009
Death, Death, Elitism & Death
I've spent the last three days at the World Conference of Science Journalists (WCSJ), where much of the debate focused on Death - mostly of traditional media/science journalism, but also as a result of climate change. I'll be addressing some of this Death in the following post, as well as giving some thought to elitism and, maybe, how it relates to Death (not quite sure how that will go yet).
Perhaps, to avoid instigating a suicide pact among science journalists, I'll preface the Death stuff with science blogger @EdYong's opinion on yesterday's "Future of Science Journalism" talk. He said to me, and I hope he won't mind me quoting him, "It was good to hear that it was all quite optimistic." Maybe though, this optimism was just a thinly veiled attempt to conceal our impending fate at the hands of bloggers and the Metro, as outlined in a few of the earlier sessions...
To elaborate, at least of couple of talks featured speeches by editors - notably John Rennie, formerly of Scientific American, and Wired UK's Ben Hammersley - arguing that science journalists are soon to be subjected to some sort of mass extinction. In the coming media apocalypse, it seems, only the journalists with the biggest pencils and flippiest notepads will survive.
Mediocre science coverage on blogs and in non-specialist publications, it is predicted, will cause this future extinction event. In light of this, bloggers got the sharp end of a few tongues, but some, including Yong, argued convincingly that good bloggers often do a better job than "proper" science reporters.
Meanwhile, we were warned, climate change will be wreaking global havoc e.g. intensifying heat waves similar to the one we're currently experiencing and adding substantially to the global Death toll. One delegate pointed out that we should be highlighting these sorts of climate-related catastrophes in our articles to try to drum up interest in renewable energies. I'm not so sure... I agree with the guy who said we should be highlighting all the good stuff instead - increased energy and food security, improved air quality and so on.
Possibly just as unnerving as the stench of Death was the faint whiff of elitism lingering around a couple of talks. On one occasion, Hammersley expressed a surprising degree of disgust for readers of the Metro free newspaper, available, as most of my readers will know, on any London tube train. I can't recall the exact phrase but it was tantamount to saying that anyone who reads that particular publication was a lost cause and would probably be incapable of understanding a decent science article. Yet several distinguished science journalists I spoke to later admitted to some regular underground-related Metro action. Anyone else dare to confess? I'm not sticking up for the Metro exactly, but the people who read it are not a bunch of idiots. And even if they were, why should we stop trying to engage with them?
The following day, whilst outlining the failings of the British press, Professor John Martin insinuated something along the same lines. Having described how he likes to spend his mornings breakfasting over high brow German newspapers, he went on to suggest that all science coverage should fit into the same mould. I winced as he invoked something vaguely reminiscent of science communication's arch nemesis - one-way communication - in saying that the public "needed to be educated". (For anyone unfamiliar with sci comm theory, the en vogue phrase is "engagement", not "education", which, in the eyes of the sci comm community, is pretty much like saying the public is stupid). Shortly afterwards, he complained about how the high level of media attention paid to animal rights campaigners had left scientists in a bad light. He then confessed that this had, in part, been due to his own and his colleagues' refusal to talk to journalists during the debate. Sigh.
Perhaps I'm being presumptuous, but I'm pretty sure it doesn't help our case in avoiding the aforementioned journalistic cull if leading scientists and magazine editors continue to view the public as cretins. And that's, I suppose, how elitism relates to Death.
Depressing, eh? The free champagne was good though.
Perhaps, to avoid instigating a suicide pact among science journalists, I'll preface the Death stuff with science blogger @EdYong's opinion on yesterday's "Future of Science Journalism" talk. He said to me, and I hope he won't mind me quoting him, "It was good to hear that it was all quite optimistic." Maybe though, this optimism was just a thinly veiled attempt to conceal our impending fate at the hands of bloggers and the Metro, as outlined in a few of the earlier sessions...
To elaborate, at least of couple of talks featured speeches by editors - notably John Rennie, formerly of Scientific American, and Wired UK's Ben Hammersley - arguing that science journalists are soon to be subjected to some sort of mass extinction. In the coming media apocalypse, it seems, only the journalists with the biggest pencils and flippiest notepads will survive.
Mediocre science coverage on blogs and in non-specialist publications, it is predicted, will cause this future extinction event. In light of this, bloggers got the sharp end of a few tongues, but some, including Yong, argued convincingly that good bloggers often do a better job than "proper" science reporters.
Meanwhile, we were warned, climate change will be wreaking global havoc e.g. intensifying heat waves similar to the one we're currently experiencing and adding substantially to the global Death toll. One delegate pointed out that we should be highlighting these sorts of climate-related catastrophes in our articles to try to drum up interest in renewable energies. I'm not so sure... I agree with the guy who said we should be highlighting all the good stuff instead - increased energy and food security, improved air quality and so on.
Possibly just as unnerving as the stench of Death was the faint whiff of elitism lingering around a couple of talks. On one occasion, Hammersley expressed a surprising degree of disgust for readers of the Metro free newspaper, available, as most of my readers will know, on any London tube train. I can't recall the exact phrase but it was tantamount to saying that anyone who reads that particular publication was a lost cause and would probably be incapable of understanding a decent science article. Yet several distinguished science journalists I spoke to later admitted to some regular underground-related Metro action. Anyone else dare to confess? I'm not sticking up for the Metro exactly, but the people who read it are not a bunch of idiots. And even if they were, why should we stop trying to engage with them?
The following day, whilst outlining the failings of the British press, Professor John Martin insinuated something along the same lines. Having described how he likes to spend his mornings breakfasting over high brow German newspapers, he went on to suggest that all science coverage should fit into the same mould. I winced as he invoked something vaguely reminiscent of science communication's arch nemesis - one-way communication - in saying that the public "needed to be educated". (For anyone unfamiliar with sci comm theory, the en vogue phrase is "engagement", not "education", which, in the eyes of the sci comm community, is pretty much like saying the public is stupid). Shortly afterwards, he complained about how the high level of media attention paid to animal rights campaigners had left scientists in a bad light. He then confessed that this had, in part, been due to his own and his colleagues' refusal to talk to journalists during the debate. Sigh.
Perhaps I'm being presumptuous, but I'm pretty sure it doesn't help our case in avoiding the aforementioned journalistic cull if leading scientists and magazine editors continue to view the public as cretins. And that's, I suppose, how elitism relates to Death.
Depressing, eh? The free champagne was good though.
09 June 2009
Cheltenham Science Festival 2009
So, quickly and in no particular order - it's my birthday and I'm not really supposed to be working - some highlights from The Times Cheltenham Science Festival last week...As editor of the festival newsletter, I was proud to sign off a stomache-achingly silly caption for a Carol Vorderman image advertising her event 'Magic Numbers'. The caption was - wait for it - 'Counting down to number fun'. We pointed it out to her but she wasn't overly impressed.
On Saturday, I interviewed a very tired and slightly grumpy Dara O'Briain. I think he may have been annoyed by the hoards of loud and excitable kids in the Discover Zone. The whole thing was completely unplanned; I wasn't too keen on doing it at all, but I'd been badgered into it by two photographers desperate to take his picture. (Their other suggestion was for me to interview Dara and Ben Goldacre both at the same time. This, I flatly refused - I would have crumbled under the weight of their collective wit.)
Anyway, I raced quickly to the end of the Dara interview, having asked the three questions I'd prepared in the 10 seconds I had to spare beforehand - who knew, by the way, that he studied for a degree in theoretical physics? - and said, "Well, I won't keep you any longer." Dara, being on the ball despite his tiredness, saw through my niceties: "You just haven't got any more questions, have you?" To which I answered, "No, I've got better things to do, to be honest." I think I won him over...
That night, still looking tired and grumpy, Dara took to the stage for 'Not Rocket Science' - a scientific panel game hosted by Timandra Harkness. I wouldn't want to say he was upstaged, but... well, he was upstaged by FameLab Coordinator Chris Dunford posing as the score-keeping nerd. It wouldn't do Chris justice to post his quips here, but the look on his face during the body part identification round, when Vivienne Parry unzipped his flies and tried to stick a label on his... well, you know, was priceless.
Chris, by the way, has already been booked for our new Comical Flask stage/tent for Geek Pop '10. And now I've published that, he's not getting out of it.
There are honestly too many great moments to recall in one blog post (e.g. the moment I spotted a mound of carrot cake in the green room on Sunday afternoon, the moment sexy scientist Alice Roberts dropped all her paintbrushes and Chris swooped in to pick them all up like a fumbling school kid) but I'll just put in a more serious mention for Fenner Curtis and the press team who did a grand job "getting the Twitter ball rolling". Having convinced them that Twitter was the new Facebook, they diligently tweeted, retweeted and hashtagged all week, stimulating a stream of Cheltenham-based sciencey goodness.
My favourite tweet from @Cheltfestivals: Cool Pfizer robot in the festival foyer: "What do you think robots eat?" Small child: "Humans!!"
12 May 2009
May: "Do More Stuff" month
I am declaring May "Do More Stuff" month. This means getting out of the office, leaving my email to overflow for days at a time and generally experiencing the wonder of The Outside World. And I shall be encouraging everyone else to follow suit - go on, unchain yourself from your desk for a couple of hours, leave your Twitter account to stagnate and make contact with reality.This might seem a bit rich, I guess, coming from someone who barely leaves the house/office from one week to the next and, in fact, has created an entire virtual music festival in order to avoid doing so. But doesn't that make me something of an inspiration? If I can do it, so can you!
Apart from improving the circulation in our lower limbs and getting some fresh air in our lungs, who knows what may happen if we go out and Do More Stuff... The Outside World is an exciting place. We could meet people - you know, real people with noses and talky round holes (mouths, if you're not a Mighty Boosh fan). Seriously though, it could be useful - for business contacts, artistic inspiration or just relief from almighty boredom.
So, what kinds of things am I pledging to do during "Do More Stuff" month? Well, here are some ideas. Do feel free to join me.
- Going to Festival of Ideas to see fellow Twitterer and maths whizz Marcus Du Sautoy talk about numbers [18th May, 18.00-19.00, Explore At-Bristol].
- Talking to real life people about the environment for a new Bristol-based 'Green Cast' project.
- Association of British Science Writers (ABSW) South West meet up at the Two Cultures event (another Festival of Ideas thingamy) [21st May, 18.15-20.45, Watershed Media Centre].
- At last, attending Bristol Media's monthly "Media Tuesday" event - which I always miss because of work commitments [26th May, 18.15-20.00, Goldbrick House].
23 April 2009
Black Sheep: GM scaremongering to the extreme, but quite funny
If you know me at all, you'll know that a film about GM sheep that turn evil and start eating people isn't likely to go down well. I'm a scientist, and science communicator, which means I'm very wary about plots that centre around genetically modified anything. We had enough trouble in the media with GM crops; let's not even start with the GM (flesh-eating) sheep...
Funnily enough, though, I thought Black Sheep was actually quite humorous. Once you get past the ridiculous premise that scientists could ever modify sheep to be man-hunters - and the even more ridiculous premise that a bite from one of these things could turn you into a giant sheep - it all turns out to be, dare I say it, pretty hilarious.
I did cringe repeatedly at overly blatant scientific stereotypes/misdemeanours, including the female scientist (ice queen with hair in tight bun displaying complete absence of human emotion) and torture of innocent animals (sheep hanging skinned and still alive from the ceiling of a lab). But it was all so overblown as to be laughable. At least, that's what you have to hope, don't you?
Mash-up below. Watch the whole thing for full cringe worthy effect and assaults on scientific expertise.
Funnily enough, though, I thought Black Sheep was actually quite humorous. Once you get past the ridiculous premise that scientists could ever modify sheep to be man-hunters - and the even more ridiculous premise that a bite from one of these things could turn you into a giant sheep - it all turns out to be, dare I say it, pretty hilarious.
I did cringe repeatedly at overly blatant scientific stereotypes/misdemeanours, including the female scientist (ice queen with hair in tight bun displaying complete absence of human emotion) and torture of innocent animals (sheep hanging skinned and still alive from the ceiling of a lab). But it was all so overblown as to be laughable. At least, that's what you have to hope, don't you?
Mash-up below. Watch the whole thing for full cringe worthy effect and assaults on scientific expertise.
Finding an independent expert
Here's one for anybody who regularly writes about scientific research: how do you find your independent experts? And how do you persuade them to talk to you?
A recent discussion on the ABSW email forum has made me think a bit more deeply about this - the difficulties associated with finding a suitable/willing expert and the pitfalls of various approaches. There seems to be a lack of Googlable advice, so below are a few thoughts. If anyone has anything to add, this might make a useful resource for virgin writers feeling unsure as to how they should go about it. I should point out that I'm no wizened old owl, so comments from those who have been in the business for decades would be welcomed.
The first thing to say, of course, is that you're essentially asking someone to do you a favour. Getting independent comments is completely different to getting comments from the person whose research you're covering (only one author has ever refused to talk to me and it's worth pointing out that they worked for DARPA), simply because a scientist has less of an incentive to talk to you if it's not their work. For this reason, it's important to be VERY GRATEFUL in all your correspondence.
Next thing: start looking straight away and be picky. You don't want to get to the morning of the deadline - which may only be two days away - and realise you've contacted ten people and the one person who was good enough to respond, bless them, doesn't know a thing about buckyballs/microchips/Japanese herbal medicine.
I generally find suitable targets by Googling, but you've got to be thorough in your research to make sure you're choosing the right people. A good 'Bio or 'Research interests' on a university website will usually tell you what you need to know, but failing that, have a look through their list of publications. Of course, you might be looking for someone in industry, in which case, it might be easier to simply ring the company's press office to see if anyone with suitable expertise is available. Usually, I'll contact two people for every one I need to talk to. This way, I rarely get caught out and often manage to cram in the extra quotes if both get back to me.
Our discussion on the ABSW centred around the various pools or lists of scientific expertise, which were considered - and I would agree - to be fairly unhelpful unless you're looking for, say, a general "nanotechnologist" rather than an expert in some specific aspect of buckyballs. The problem with these lists is that there are simply not enough scientists signed up to them, or actively using them, and you won't be able to contact an expert directly, so the time lag is going to be greater.
Now, there are a number of issues surrounding how you should approach people. I'm sure not everyone will agree, but I find I get better results by making the initial contact via email. Scientists don't respond particularly well to being called up out of the blue. Don't forget, you're asking them to do you a favour, so journalistic cold calling probably isn't going to go down well. On the other hand, if you're in a hurry this may be the only option available to you.
I always start with a formal address i.e. "Dear Professor Whatsit" rather than "Hi Bob". Even if you're looking for independent experts all the time, making a template email isn't a good idea - you should probably include something in your message of what you intend to ask them. So you could say, "I just wanted to ask you what you think about the medicinal applications," or similar. This way, they're more likely to think, "Oh, that sounds like something I could easily and safely answer," rather than, "This hack is going to give me a good grilling and then twist everything I've said to make me sound like a moron." Which, by the way, is not - if any scientists happen to be reading - what I ever, ever intend to do.
Personally, I prefer to ask questions of an independent expert over the phone, but media-phobic scientists tend to prefer answering them by email so they can't be misquoted. Therefore, you may give yourself a better chance of getting some comments if you give them that option. Some thoughts on email vs phone comments:
Problems with email:
One further point that has less to do with the actual process and more to do with good journalistic practice is that you probably shouldn't keep returning to old sources. If I already have a contact who I know has absolutely the right scope of expertise and I'm really pushed for time then I may ask them, but I don't like asking the same people more than a couple of times - if every time I wrote an article about nanotubes I used the same independent expert it would make for a very one-sided view of the field.
A recent discussion on the ABSW email forum has made me think a bit more deeply about this - the difficulties associated with finding a suitable/willing expert and the pitfalls of various approaches. There seems to be a lack of Googlable advice, so below are a few thoughts. If anyone has anything to add, this might make a useful resource for virgin writers feeling unsure as to how they should go about it. I should point out that I'm no wizened old owl, so comments from those who have been in the business for decades would be welcomed.
The first thing to say, of course, is that you're essentially asking someone to do you a favour. Getting independent comments is completely different to getting comments from the person whose research you're covering (only one author has ever refused to talk to me and it's worth pointing out that they worked for DARPA), simply because a scientist has less of an incentive to talk to you if it's not their work. For this reason, it's important to be VERY GRATEFUL in all your correspondence.
Next thing: start looking straight away and be picky. You don't want to get to the morning of the deadline - which may only be two days away - and realise you've contacted ten people and the one person who was good enough to respond, bless them, doesn't know a thing about buckyballs/microchips/Japanese herbal medicine.
I generally find suitable targets by Googling, but you've got to be thorough in your research to make sure you're choosing the right people. A good 'Bio or 'Research interests' on a university website will usually tell you what you need to know, but failing that, have a look through their list of publications. Of course, you might be looking for someone in industry, in which case, it might be easier to simply ring the company's press office to see if anyone with suitable expertise is available. Usually, I'll contact two people for every one I need to talk to. This way, I rarely get caught out and often manage to cram in the extra quotes if both get back to me.
Our discussion on the ABSW centred around the various pools or lists of scientific expertise, which were considered - and I would agree - to be fairly unhelpful unless you're looking for, say, a general "nanotechnologist" rather than an expert in some specific aspect of buckyballs. The problem with these lists is that there are simply not enough scientists signed up to them, or actively using them, and you won't be able to contact an expert directly, so the time lag is going to be greater.
Now, there are a number of issues surrounding how you should approach people. I'm sure not everyone will agree, but I find I get better results by making the initial contact via email. Scientists don't respond particularly well to being called up out of the blue. Don't forget, you're asking them to do you a favour, so journalistic cold calling probably isn't going to go down well. On the other hand, if you're in a hurry this may be the only option available to you.
I always start with a formal address i.e. "Dear Professor Whatsit" rather than "Hi Bob". Even if you're looking for independent experts all the time, making a template email isn't a good idea - you should probably include something in your message of what you intend to ask them. So you could say, "I just wanted to ask you what you think about the medicinal applications," or similar. This way, they're more likely to think, "Oh, that sounds like something I could easily and safely answer," rather than, "This hack is going to give me a good grilling and then twist everything I've said to make me sound like a moron." Which, by the way, is not - if any scientists happen to be reading - what I ever, ever intend to do.
Personally, I prefer to ask questions of an independent expert over the phone, but media-phobic scientists tend to prefer answering them by email so they can't be misquoted. Therefore, you may give yourself a better chance of getting some comments if you give them that option. Some thoughts on email vs phone comments:
Problems with email:
- Loss of spontaneity - they may omit the interesting comments you would get via phone
- Loss of "naturalness" in speech - your quotes may sound like they were written rather than spoken
- There's no guarantee they will send them in time for your deadline (athough most will)
- Scientists may ask you to send quotes back to them before publishing, significantly reducing your time and meaning they may edit out everything you stood to gain by doing the interview over the phone i.e. spontaneity and naturalness
- You'll need to transcribe the interview or at least type up the relevant bits
- You may end up with misleading comments/inaccuracies if the scientist is better at articulating him/herself via written word
One further point that has less to do with the actual process and more to do with good journalistic practice is that you probably shouldn't keep returning to old sources. If I already have a contact who I know has absolutely the right scope of expertise and I'm really pushed for time then I may ask them, but I don't like asking the same people more than a couple of times - if every time I wrote an article about nanotubes I used the same independent expert it would make for a very one-sided view of the field.
03 April 2009
Prime numbers are probably the root of all evil
Did anyone see the Horizon programme on Wednesday with Alan Davies and Marcus Du Sautoy?Wow.
For the first five minutes I thought it was going to be one of those oooh look how exciting maths is, er, but actually it's really boring-type programmes. "I know loads of people that hate maths and think it's really boring, but I want to show Alan, show everyone in fact, that it's a wonderful, exciting subject," said Du Sautoy, about 30 seconds in. Which made me terribly suspicious.
And honestly, despite being a scientist and self-confessed geek, maths is not something that has ever pushed my buttons. (I wasn't one of those people who did maths A-Level for fun; I did it because it went with biology and chemistry quite well - and I wasn't really thinking when I handed in the form. I was 16 for Christ's sake).
Anyway, after 15 minutes, Mr Hayley and I were absolutely hooked. The pairing of cynical Davies with the bouncy, infectiously enthusiastic and ever-so-slightly camp Du Sautoy was genius. But what really sealed the deal was the prime numbers...
Oh those prime numbers. They'll be the end of us.
So this German guy called Bernhard Riemann apparently made a graph of prime numbers. It looks a bit like this:
Which makes sense (hoorah!) 'cause there are loads of small prime numbers (on the left - 1, 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, etc etc) and they occur less often as you go higher.BUT, the really freaky thing is this... according to Du Sautoy, the same distribution pattern has popped up all over the place, including in the distribution of electrons in uranium, in bus arrival times in a little known Mexican city and - wait for it - the distribution of parked cars in modern day London. And it was at this point that Mr Hayley and I practically jumped out of our seats. "WHAT?"
And THEN, Du Sautoy proceeded to show that if you take a quartz sphere hooked up to an oscilloscope and hit it with a ball bearing, the electrical signal you get also matches this pattern. Sorry, but. No way.
Does everyone know this? Why aren't we all running around looking for the solution? Surely this makes prime numbers the answer to life, the universe and everything? Wait, no, that's 42. >> 19 days left to watch on iPlayer - do it!
23 February 2009
Rapidly turning into a film blog but...
Must just congratulate James Marsh on his Oscar for Man On Wire - one of the most fantastic pieces of storytelling I've ever seen.
Well done.
And poor ol' Benjamin Button walks away with a measly 3/13, "all in the technical categories".
Well done.
And poor ol' Benjamin Button walks away with a measly 3/13, "all in the technical categories".
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