The Green, Green Coast of France, part one: Green worms

 

I have a relatively short bucket list. It used to be longer, but my health will not permit me to visit every place I have dreamed about. Only two major sites remained: Down House, where Charles Darwin lived and worked; and Roscoff, on the north coast of France, where you can find the famous green worms.

I first read about these worms (called, at the time, Convoluta roscoffensis) in the kind of book that would probably not get published today: The Science of Life (originally published in 1929), the lead author of which was H. G. Wells, known primarily as a fiction writer and secondarily as an historian. Way down the list was his reputation as a scientist. His experience as a fiction writer was supposed to make this book more interesting than the conventional biology textbooks, but I question this opinion.

On France’s north coast, there is a town called Roscoff. If you walk along the beach, says Wells, and you come close to a patch of what appears to be green slime, you will be amazed to notice that this green slime disappears down into the sand.

What you might have thought was microscopic green algae turns out to be tiny worms. Unlike other flatworms, this one (now called Symsagitiffera roscoffensis) does not have a mouth. It does not eat little bits of food from its environment. Its caloric needs are entirely met by the little green alga Tetraselmis convolutae that lives inside the worm’s skin. The algae get the carbon dioxide and minerals that they need from the wastes of the worm itself. The worm makes sure the algae get exposed to sunlight, for photosynthesis, and stay wet.

This is a perfect, and inspiring, example of mutualism, in which two species work together (or in this case merge together) for their mutual benefit. All my life, I have wanted to see these worms, and more recently to make a video of them. I now live in France, and I can get to Roscoff from my home in Strasbourg by train. I just need to avoid the peak tourist season, when the beaches are covered with humans and the train fares expensive.

However, I have given up on this idea, for reasons I will explain in the next essay.

Among the Lilies, a novel by Stan Rice, part four. A devastated landscape: Solomon’s legacy

Stan Rice has just published another novel, Among the Lilies, the first novel in the trilogy Under the Sun. The central character is Elah, who is the scribe who writes the things that King Solomon takes the credit for: Ecclesiastes and Song of Songs, as well as many other Old Testament writings.

The summary from Kindle is:

Elah, the narrator, is a servant in one of King Solomon’s harems. While this sounds like the best job in the world, Elah’s work is way below his mind. He spends all the time he can thinking and writing about what, if anything, God is doing under the sun. But then he meets and loves Henna, the only black woman in Jerusalem. She is confined to her stepfather’s walled garden. Elah risks his life to meet Henna in the garden.

While in a cavalcade to the cedar forests of Lebanon, which he intends to cut down to make his palace, The King (who resembles Elvis) elevates Elah to the position of chief scribe. When The King sees Henna, he decides to add her to his stable of wives. Meanwhile Gomer, who becomes the woman in charge of the royal kitchens and is an expert in poisonous wild plants, is not at all pleased. She wants Elah for herself, and doesn’t she try to do something about it. But she cannot keep Elah from meeting Henna again. His quest fails.

Elah becomes a leader of revolutionary forces against The King. Elah finally finds Henna in the muddy eroded landscape that used to be the forests of Lebanon. The King captures Elah and offers him the choice between death and not quite being dead.

In order to build his Temple and Palace, Solomon must totally destroy the forests of cedars in Lebanon. They were legendary before him, but today very little remains of the fabled cedars. This photo shows one of the last remaining groves of Cedrus libani today. [photo]

 

The forests are magnificent when Solomon first visits them and contracts with King Hiram to cut down the trees. He just doesn’t understand that a bunch of gilded trunks in a Temple are nothing compared to the living forest from which they came. At the end of the novel, all that remains of the forest is mud, which consumes Elah and Henna and delivers them to their downfall.

History books seldom include the environmental devastation that comes with the fall of civilizations. Early historical records tend to just be a list of kings and battles. Historians now routinely include economics and sociology in their explanations of the rise and fall of civilizations. One of the early historians to include geography in his European histories was Marc Bloch, from Strasbourg, where I now live. But world history seldom includes the environment, something that works like A Forest Journey and Collapse are helping to rectify.

But you can find an environmental explanation for the collapse of societies even in the Bible itself. The Israelites were commanded to let their farmland rest every seventh year (the “sabbath of the fields.”) They apparently never did so. After 470 years, the Israelites owed a debt of 70 years to the land. This law is stated right after the ten commandments in Exodus 23:10-11. In Leviticus 26:34-35, Moses quoted God as saying that if the Israelites did not let the land rest every seventh year, Israel would be conquered by enemies, the land would lie desolate, and then the land would “enjoy its rests.” According to the Second Chronicles 36:21, this is exactly what happened. “The land enjoyed its rests” for seventy years, not incorporated as a part of the Israelite economy, but all at once, after its collapse, during the Babylonian captivity. We have not yet, even today, learned the lesson that we have to treat God’s Earth with respect if we are to survive.

Among the Lilies, a novel by Stan Rice, part three. The taste of bread and true love

Stan Rice has just published another novel, Among the Lilies, the first novel in the trilogy Under the Sun. The central character is Elah, who is the scribe who writes the things that King Solomon takes the credit for: Ecclesiastes and Song of Songs, as well as many other Old Testament writings.

The summary from Kindle is:

Elah, the narrator, is a servant in one of King Solomon’s harems. While this sounds like the best job in the world, Elah’s work is way below his mind. He spends all the time he can thinking and writing about what, if anything, God is doing under the sun. But then he meets and loves Henna, the only black woman in Jerusalem. She is confined to her stepfather’s walled garden. Elah risks his life to meet Henna in the garden.

While in a cavalcade to the cedar forests of Lebanon, which he intends to cut down to make his palace, The King (who resembles Elvis) elevates Elah to the position of chief scribe. When The King sees Henna, he decides to add her to his stable of wives. Meanwhile Gomer, who becomes the woman in charge of the royal kitchens and is an expert in poisonous wild plants, is not at all pleased. She wants Elah for herself, and doesn’t she try to do something about it. But she cannot keep Elah from meeting Henna again. His quest fails.

Elah becomes a leader of revolutionary forces against The King. Elah finally finds Henna in the muddy eroded landscape that used to be the forests of Lebanon. The King captures Elah and offers him the choice between death and not quite being dead.

Is true love like fine wine, or maybe whiskey? Or like exquisite candies? In Rice’s novel, true love turns out to be more like fragrant bread.

Gomer is the little woman who bakes the bread and eventually becomes the Head Baker. She wants Eli as her husband and will stop at nothing to get him—even while he still pines for Henna. Elah resists Gomer, until she sacrifices herself to save his life. Eli guards Gomer’s secret: she is a runaway Hittite slave. Eli realizes that Gomer’s love is what he really wants. This love story is as good as the love between Elah and Henna.

Even when Elah says that what he really wants is to die, since he cannot have Henna, Gomer is his ally. She knows desert wildflowers, and Elah has to trust her that she knows the difference between regular lilies and the visually-similar death lilies.

One of Elah’s tasks as head scribe is to find all Israelite folk stories and write them down. These stories, once organized, become much of the Old Testament: the stories of Lot, Barack, Gideon, Jotham, and Samson. Gomer is his comrade in collecting these stories. When Eli is banned from Jerusalem, he joins the rebel general Jeroboam, whom the Israelite people support. Gomer joins him.

But at the end temptation to have Henna is Elah’s downfall. The fact that Henna wants Eli is totally irrelevant to Solomon, who just smiles as she spits in his face.

Creativity in Hypothesis Generation: A Story about Leaves

A hypothesis needs to be testable. It does not need to be right. Almost any statement you could make, if testable, is a hypothesis. Silly hypotheses, which are very likely to be wrong, are a waste of time, but that is the only thing wrong with them.

Sometimes scientists focus on their own narrow research so much that they cannot dig themselves out of it unless they have a great deal of creativity. There are many examples of creative scientists. Today I give you Tom Givnish, now at the University of Wisconsin.

Some plants have mottled leaves. That is, their chlorophyll is patchily distributed in the leaf, rather than being a solid shade of green. An explanation for this is not possible within just the realm of photosynthetic physiology. You have probably seen a lot of mottled leaves. They may have patches or lines of white rather than being a solid green. Plant breeders cherish these plants, because they are decorative and people like to plant them in their yards. But occasionally you will see a stem with solid green leaves emerge on a plant that “is supposed to be” mottled. These are the stems that the horticulturalist cuts off and throws away.

But why should a plant out in nature have mottled leaves? Givnish came up with a creative answer. We cannot know if it is true unless we rerun the clock of evolution and watch mottled leaves evolve, or prevent them from evolving. But we can analyze their patterns and suggest believable answers. This is what Givnish did in an article in Functional Ecology in 1990.

He noticed that leaves that were evergreen in an otherwise deciduous environment are more likely to be mottled than other leaves. In particular, plants with mottled leaves are frequently evergreen plants near the ground in deciduous forests. Givnish used examples from North America, but I saw an example in a forest in Alsace, France: the Italian arum Arum italicum.

One thing that is strikingly obvious about evergreen herbs in a deciduous forest is that it is almost impossible for them to hide. They would therefore be an almost irresistible target for any herbivores in the forest (that had not migrated or hibernated). Givnish suggests that the plants, by producing mottled leaves, are hiding. It is camouflage.

It might seem easier for the leaves to just die back to the ground, the way most of the perennial herbs of the forest floor do. But there is an advantage to the plant to have leaves that are active in the winter and early spring. On the rare (and increasingly less rare) days that are warm in the winter or early spring, these plants can carry out a lot of photosynthesis in the bright sunlight that is not yet blocked by tree leaves that may not open for weeks or even months. In spring ephemerals, almost their entire year’s worth of food production is in the early spring before the tree leaves expand. How much more so with an evergreen plant on the forest floor.

Leaf mottling, by breaking up the line of vision that might make the leaves obvious, might make poor-sighted herbivores less likely to eat them. This is the same principle on which the camouflage of soldiers and hunters is based.

The Angst of Creativity; or, How Louisa May Alcott Solved the Creation/Evolution Problem

In Little Women by Louisa May Alcott, Josephine March (Jo) wanted more than anything to be a fiction writer, no matter how hard she had to work at it or how little it paid. Jo is by far the most interesting of the four sisters in this book I find otherwise uninteresting. The only novel less interesting is Pilgrim’s Progress, which was the favorite novel of all four of the sisters. But Jo rocks!

When Jo was in her writing mood, everybody knew it. Here is the quote from chapter XXVII:

“Every few weeks she would shut herself up in her room, put on her scribbling suit, and "fall into a vortex" as she expressed it, writing away at her novel with all her heart and soul, for till that was finished she could find no peace. Her "scribbling suit" consisted of a black woolen pinafore on which she could wipe her pen at will, and a cap of the same material, adorned with a cheerful red bow, into which she bundled her hair when the decks were cleared for action. This cap was a beacon to the inquiring eyes of her family, who during these periods kept their distance, merely popping in their heads semi-occasionally, to ask, with interest, "Does genius burn, Jo?" They did not always venture even to ask this question, but took an observation of the cap, and judged accordingly. If this expressive article of dress was drawn low upon the forehead, it was a sign that hard work was going on; in exciting moments it was pushed rakishly askew; and when despair seized the author it was plucked wholly off, and cast upon the floor. At such times the intruder silently withdrew; and not until the red bow was seen gayly erect upon the gifted brow, did any one dare address Jo.”

I understand what Jo (probably based on Alcott’s own experiences) felt. When I am writing, the experience consumes me, and when I re-read what I wrote, the feelings come back. It feels even better than sex.

But it is also frustrating. Everyone assumes the writer is in complete control, but this is not true. Once the writer creates the character and his/her world, there are certain rules and patterns that must be followed; even the creator cannot violate them. The creator must follow the laws of nature, that is, the nature s/he created.

And this is also true of God the Creator, whatever this might mean. Once the Big Bang happened, and the physical constants (such as gravitation) were established, the Creator could not violate them. Once the solar system formed, whatever happened next was pretty much constrained to the operation of natural laws. That is, once S/He created the world, S/He had to let evolution take its course. From this viewpoint, creation and evolution are the same thing.

Historical contingencies, otherwise known as chance events, appear to come to the rescue. Things happen for no apparent reason, and change the whole course of evolution. One could not have predicted that cyanobacteria would move into larger cells, but once they did, the whole evolutionary history of plants opened up. It didn’t have to be that way. One some other Earth, something else might have happened. But one can, in fact, question whether chance events can actually occur.

So God the Creator, if there is one, is trapped within His story. It must be very frustrating. Just ask Jo March.

Among the Lilies, a novel by Stan Rice, part two. What was Solomon thinking anyway?

Stan Rice has just published another novel, Among the Lilies, the first novel in the trilogy Under the Sun. The central character is Elah, who is the scribe who writes the things that King Solomon takes the credit for: Ecclesiastes and Song of Songs, as well as many other Old Testament writings.

The summary from Kindle is:

Elah, the narrator, is a servant in one of King Solomon’s harems. While this sounds like the best job in the world, Elah’s work is way below his mind. He spends all the time he can thinking and writing about what, if anything, God is doing under the sun. But then he meets and loves Henna, the only black woman in Jerusalem. She is confined to her stepfather’s walled garden. Elah risks his life to meet Henna in the garden.

While in a cavalcade to the cedar forests of Lebanon, which he intends to cut down to make his palace, The King (who resembles Elvis) elevates Elah to the position of chief scribe. When The King sees Henna, he decides to add her to his stable of wives. Meanwhile Gomer, who becomes the woman in charge of the royal kitchens and is an expert in poisonous wild plants, is not at all pleased. She wants Elah for herself, and doesn’t she try to do something about it. But she cannot keep Elah from meeting Henna again. His quest fails.

Elah becomes a leader of revolutionary forces against The King. Elah finally finds Henna in the muddy eroded landscape that used to be the forests of Lebanon. The King captures Elah and offers him the choice between death and not quite being dead.

A thousand sex partners? What was Solomon thinking anyway? Three hundred were wives, with inheritance rights, and seven hundred were well-paid concubines. Obviously Solomon could not love all of those women, though he probably fantasized that he could. Was he simply a sex maniac?

King Solomon is, in this novel, the most narcissistic man who ever lived. He names everything after himself. He aspires to build a huge Temple, and an even bigger Palace. Rice models him after Elvis Presley who is, of course, The King.

Rice brings up the possibility that Solomon was the consummate politician. He had total dictatorial control over the Kingdom of Israel, so much so that the people tolerated high taxes and having to dedicate a month of labor every year to governmental, or to Solomon’s personal, projects. And perhaps Solomon was using his many marriages to consolidate his political power. Any provincial families who became restless and questioned Solomon’s absolute authority found that they could do nothing: they had already married their daughters into Solomon’s family!

Even the Temple was a political stunt. At the dedication ceremony, Solomon makes a long speech, mostly about himself. And there is a sign on the Temple: Your Tax Money at Work!

One of Solomon’s children is Prince Rehoboam, who is modeled after Machiavelli’s The Prince. He is as powerful and ruthless as Solomon, only he does not understand that true power comes from creating the appearance of altruism. Rehoboam fails because he does not know that even an absolute dictator needs to have the people like him.

Among the Lilies, a novel by Stan Rice, part one. The subversive writer in King Solomon’s court

Stan Rice has just published another novel, Among the Lilies, the first novel in the trilogy Under the Sun. The central character is Elah, who is the scribe who writes the things that King Solomon takes the credit for: Ecclesiastes and Song of Songs, as well as many other Old Testament writings.

The summary from Kindle is:

Elah, the narrator, is a servant in one of King Solomon’s harems. While this sounds like the best job in the world, Elah’s work is way below his mind. He spends all the time he can thinking and writing about what, if anything, God is doing under the sun. But then he meets and loves Henna, the only black woman in Jerusalem. She is confined to her stepfather’s walled garden. Elah risks his life to meet Henna in the garden.

While in a cavalcade to the cedar forests of Lebanon, which he intends to cut down to make his palace, The King (who resembles Elvis) elevates Elah to the position of chief scribe. When The King sees Henna, he decides to add her to his stable of wives. Meanwhile Gomer, who becomes the woman in charge of the royal kitchens and is an expert in poisonous wild plants, is not at all pleased. She wants Elah for herself, and doesn’t she try to do something about it. But she cannot keep Elah from meeting Henna again. His quest fails.

Elah becomes a leader of revolutionary forces against The King. Elah finally finds Henna in the muddy eroded landscape that used to be the forests of Lebanon. The King captures Elah and offers him the choice between death and not quite being dead.

Rice has published this novel himself rather than looking for a commercial publisher because the fiction market is totally flooded with novels based on the Bible. The difference between most (or all?) of those novels and Rice’s is that the others are all either sand-and-sandal stories (reverent re-tellings of children’s Bible stories for adults), such as The Robe, an old novel by Lloyd C. Douglas; or creative derivations of them, such as The Book of Longings by Sue Monk Kidd. None of them appear to be critical re-tellings from an agnostic, even cynical, viewpoint like Rice’s novel. No agent, editor, or reader would be able to find Among the Lilies in this veritable ocean of Bible fan-literature.

Elah is a servant in one of Solomon’s dozens of stables of wives, concubines, and sex slaves, where he is surrounded by temptations he cannot touch. The concubines are all beautiful, but the wives are faded and fat. And they think they can sing. Elah thought he had the worst job in the world, but it was at least a job.

But Elah has prospects. He is a good writer. At least, if anyone would want to read what he wrote, which was mostly deep and depressing things (the origin of the Biblical Ecclesiastes). His friend Eli is good with numbers. Someday, they fantasize, they will be Chief Scribe and Chief Steward.

Then Elah meets Henna, a black thunderbolt, the only sub-Saharan African woman in Jerusalem. She is beautiful and, like Elah, a good writer. An instant bond forms and Elah stops at nothing to find her again, which he does. This is what he wants: a partner not just of the body but of the mind and spirit. They exchange love notes, which have become the Song of Songs, Biblical passages seldom read in modern churches because of their explicit sexuality.

Elah and Eli succeed in their quests for importance in Solomon’s court. But Elah’s pursuit of Henna comes to a halt when Solomon decides he wants to marry her. Time and time again Elah almost meets up with her, until they get caught. At the end, when Elah and Henna are very briefly reunited, Elah gets to choose between being a living dog and a dead lion—words that he had written. This ending will make you wonder, just how far would you go in the pursuit of true love?