On becoming a more best writer

     Here I comment on two selections from a book called The Best Science Writing of 2010, both focused on the consequences of what we eat. Before I delve into each article, consider the initial approach of both. In All You Can Eat, Jim Carrier begins with, “The green dumpster behind Red Lobster was nearly empty when I lifted the lid”. In Graze Anatomy, Richard Manning begins, “Will Winter and Todd Churchill have a plan”. Unless you are borderline comatose, how do you put these articles down after reading the first sentence? What is this guy doing in the dumpster, and what are those two planning? Now consider the first sentence from one of the peer-reviewed scientific publications currently sitting on my desk. In an article titled “Interactions of multiple predators with different foraging modes in an aquatic food web”, Michael Carey & David Wahl begin with, “Predation is a key factor structuring communities and drives food web dynamics”. Are you holding your breath? Where could this gripping story lead? Obviously the selections from the book and the peer-reviewed paper have different goals and different audiences, but I wasn't surprised to see that the selections from the book were not peer-reviewed journal articles. The best science writing is apparently taking place outside of where most scientists do their writing, an eerie parallel to the issue of where the public does their learning about science (see my previous post titled Communicating ecological issues with the public).

All You Can Eat – Jim Carrier

     This article tackles issues surrounding the source of our food, namely shrimp. The sustainability of the (largely former) shrimp catching industry and the pitfalls of the (now dominant) shrimp farming industry are brought into the light. While I did not need to read this article to be convinced of the sorry state of the seafood industry (I already read the marvelous and depressing book, The Empty Ocean), Carrier likely converted a number of people to swearing off shrimp (or at least consuming them more responsibly). Take a moment to appreciate that he might not have had as many readers had he started his article with, “Shrimp are an essential component of the human diet and benthic marine community”.

     Some of the essential characteristics of Carrier's writing that likely got it included in this compendium are his use of story telling, character development, dialogue/quotations, scenery descriptions, pacing, approachable language, and interesting jumps in time and space. Now, I haven't taken a introduction to writing course or anything comparable, but these characteristics appear in most of the things I read (scientific articles excluded). A non-scientist friend of mine pointed out that people who are good at doing science writing are probably good writers in general, with an interest in science. I agreed, and it stands to reason that a grip on the essential elements of good writing in general will translate to good science writing.

     I'm not sure what criteria were used to label these selections as “best”, but I doubt they put much weight on the effectiveness with which the author communicates science. Yes, it is an entertaining read, but will readers come away understanding the science? I already feel myself slipping into deficit thinking, wherein communicating science requires nothing more than spouting facts and figures. Carrier gets the point across that the fisheries are in serious trouble, and even takes the time to give an overview of shrimp biology. Is this enough to get the public to understand the science? Where are the models for maximum sustainable yield that I had to program by hand during my course in population and community ecology? Coding and manipulating those models got me to understand the underlying science, but we can't really expect the public to take the same approach.

     Carrier excels by making the scientific issues relevant to the public by tying in other subjects (politics, history, economics) and making it clear how this relates to everyday life (choosing a restaurant, being a more responsible consumer). I hope that this mode of effectiveness (re: making people care) was an important criterion in choosing which articles would appear in this book.

     Richard Manning, author of Graze Anatomy, highlights the benefits and future of the grass-fed beef movement. I was also familiar with this topic from the various Pollan-related media I've come in contact with. A fellow graduate student, Tim Bankroff, works in this field, and we've shared a few discussions on the topic. The punchline of the story is similar to Carrier's: we can improve the quality of life on this planet if we change the way we produce our food. Manning is also effective at including just enough science to substantiate his claims without drowning the reader in the details. Economic tie-ins feature prominently in this piece, and the link to global warming is unavoidable. These issues engage the public in ways that an ANOVA table displaying a significant interaction between cow food and grazing area simply cannot. I felt that Manning fell short in terms of writing quality, as his piece lacked the upbeat pace and interesting characters found in All You Can Eat.

     Overall, it seems that being the best writer takes a grasp on the fundamentals of writing combined with insight into how to make your audience care about what you are writing. I think these are two different skill sets, and I'll echo my previous thought by suggesting that scientists recruit these authors to help the public understand the meaning and value of the science that we do.