Parasol or umbrella?

We usually call them umbrellas, without thinking that the word umbrella means “little shade.” When parasols became fashionable among women in the nineteenth century, it was about the only way that they could find any shade. And that is because the nineteenth century was the time in which westerners cut down as many trees as possible, as if they were enemies or impediments created by God just to vex us.

Of course, trees are perhaps the ultimate blessing of creation. The photosynthesis of their leaves puts oxygen into the air, removes carbon dioxide from the air, and create cool shade. The trunks transported massive amounts of water from the soil into the air, creating clouds. The roots held the soil in place. Trees created new soil; their shed leaves were mulch, which held moisture in the soil. You can read all about it in my book Green Planet.

We take parks for granted. Of course every town has at least one. But this is a new way of thinking that westerners did not have until late in the nineteenth century, when Frederick Law Olmsted created the concept and oversaw the creation of municipal parks, starting with Central Park in New York but extending all over America. Europe did it too. As a result, it was not as important to have a parasol as it had been before; to get out of the sun, just duck into the shade of a tree. The new concept created by Olmsted has transformed our world. Think about this next time you park or walk in the shade.

Plantation Odyssey, a Short Novel by Stan Rice, part two. Timeless Adventures

This novel by Stan Rice, about the adventures of a slave boy named Ulysses, shows the hellish unfairness of black slavery in what became the Confederacy.

But Plantation Odyssey is closely modeled after Homer’s Odyssey. If you know nothing about Homer’s epic poem, you will be lost in reading this novel. Here is a parallel list of the events in the original and new Odyssey.

• As the Greek Odysseus went home, he first fell among the drug-addled Lotus Eaters. The slave Ulysses stayed with a dirty man who ate only cattails from a swamp.
• Both Odysseus and Ulysses encountered a Cyclops, a monster with one eye, who raised sheep and ate humans.
• Odysseus encountered the enchantingly beautiful Circe, beloved of birds and animals. Ulysses encountered Sissy and romped with her on her bed of moss. Rice combines Circe with the country song Wolverton Mountain.
• Odysseus visits hell, where he talks with dead heroes including Achilles. He has to offer them a bowl of blood before they will talk. Ulysses the slave visits hell, which is a gigantic fleshpot of endless struggle, where he meets his former owners who are now dead. After Ulysses offers them whiskey (which would you rather have, whiskey or blood?), they tell him how to find the path back to the plantation.
• Both Odysseus and Ulysses are trapped by a sex goddess named Calypso until they convince her they are serious about going home to their old wives.
• Odysseus is enchanted by the irresistible singing of the Sirens, then is shipwrecked, and rescued by women, including Nausicäa. Ulysses hears the beautiful singing of a chorus of Cherokees hidden in a swamp.
• Odysseus and Ulysses are both transformed into forms that can be recognized only by close observation: Odysseus into an old man and Ulysses into a Black woman.

In the next essay, what happens when Ulysses returns to the plantation!

Plantation Odyssey, A Short Novel by Stan Rice, part one

This novel by Stan Rice, about the adventures of a slave boy named Ulysses, shows the hellish unfairness of black slavery in what became the Confederacy. So many depressing things can be and have been written about slavery. But Rice’s novel is very specific: slavery prevented slaves, as humans, from using their talents, even to the benefit of their owners. This is a theme that frequently shows up, as in Horse and March, in novels by Geraldine Brooks.

 

 

In exploring this theme, Rice is able to use a lot of humor. The delightful framework is about Frank Hicks, a white man, and Alberta Hicks (Bert; a black woman) who were lovers in rural Oklahoma in the early twentieth century, a time and place where interracial love was kept secret when it happened at all.

The main character in Plantation Odyssey is a slave, Ulysses, who was very smart, and trained himself to be a botanist (an image inspired, no doubt, by George Washington Carver, who lived later). Ulysses got a lot of help from the old white woman who owned the plantation, something that perhaps never actually happened. She wants Ulysses to use his botanical knowledge to increase yields on the plantation. Penelope is also a slave on the plantation, but she is seven-eighths white. Of course, she and Ulysses fall in love.

But the Heir Apparent (the old woman’s son) is not at all pleased that his mother has chosen Penelope, not his own white daughter, to inherit the plantation. But Penelope is also his daughter. But because she has a drop of black blood, she is ineligible to be an heiress in the Old South. The Heir Apparent plans to not only kill Penelope and Ulysses but even his own wayward brother, who has connections to the North. The Heir Apparent kidnapped Penelope as she fled with Ulysses. Ulysses escaped to the North to work with the very real, abolitionist Harvard botanist Asa Gray.

For a young Black botanist in the middle of the nineteenth century, there could hardly be anything better than working with Asa Gray. But, like Odysseus (Ulysses) in Homer’s Odyssey after winning the Trojan War, there was no place like home. He wanted to go back to his loving wife named, of course, Penelope. I would not recommend reading this novel if you have no idea what happens in Homer’s epic poem, The Odyssey. Also, please don’t get it mixed up with James Joyce’s Ulysses. Both Ulysseses want to go home even though both Penelopes were getting old and both Ulysseses had almost boundless sexual opportunities by not going home. What a story! No wonder it has persisted two thousand years! Epic stories have contributed to the social evolution of our species; humanity is inconceivable without them.

In the next essay, I will tell about how the slave Ulysses, just like the Greek hero Odysseus, encountered an enchanted path of danger and promise as they went home.

Blood Brain Barrier: Stories from the Borderlands of Science, Story 9. Fresh Air

This collection of short stories by Stan Rice, who is also the author of nonfiction books of popular science and science novels, takes the reader to the frontier between science and worlds of the impossible (see his author website here). Readers of my science blog will appreciate the creative telling of scientifically impossible stories; readers of my religion blog will appreciate the question of whether, even if these things were possible, would they be good?

The stories in this collection are The Man Who Could Work Miracles, Light Apparel, Flow of Blood, Wisdom Builds Her House, Rock Bunnies, Entropy, Olga the Science Cat, Doghouse (all reviewed earlier), and Fresh Air (reviewed here).

This final story, Fresh Air, is the chemistry class you wish you had, the world (the whole world) as told from the viewpoint of an oxygen atom named Gould. Gould, who resembles a white man, is inherently selfish. He has a hunger to grab and keep every electron from every other atom that he can. He doesn’t feel good about his selfish nature, but he can’t do anything about it. When you get two oxygen atoms together, forming oxygen gas (O₂), they become almost criminal in their ruthlessness. Gould does not want this to happen.

Gould is bonded to a black carbon atom named Chedd, who is calm and loving. Chedd likes to form bonds, networks of atoms, even giant molecules. But right now Gould, Chedd, and Elsie (another oxygen atom, whom Gould loves even though he cannot see or touch her) form a molecule of carbon dioxide (CO₂). Get ready for the carbon dioxide molecule to get sucked into the process of photosynthesis and end up in the wood of a tree, hidden in the dark until one day the wood gets chopped by a human poet named Cosmo. Gould ends up in a fire. 

The only way an oxygen atom in carbon dioxide can be freed from the carbon cycle is by becoming an oxygen radical and joining to an oxygen molecule, making ozone. This is what happens to Gould. The story ends when Gould, inside an ozone molecule, is floating high in the air protecting the planet from ultraviolet radiation.

A surprising fact emerges from this story, one which most writers would overlook. There are two largely separate cycles in the Earth’s ecosystem. In one, carbon and oxygen atoms circulate through the food chain by photosynthesis. In another, oxygen atoms become water, then oxygen again, also by means of photosynthesis. The only atoms that can cross over between the two cycles is the occasional oxygen atom. The oxygen atoms in organic molecules produced by photosynthesis come from carbon dioxide, while the oxygen atoms in the air come from water. The oxygen atoms very seldom cross from one cycle to the other. Gould, however, does.

This story not only explains difficult concepts such as electronegativity but also provides a brief overview of the chemical history of the Earth.

There are, as in most Rice novels and stories, undercurrents of important issues. In this case, the oxygen atoms are white and greedy, while the carbon atoms are black and nice.

Blood Brain Barrier: Stories from the Borderlands of Science. Story 8, Doghouse

This collection of short stories by Stan Rice, who is also the author of nonfiction books of popular science and science novels, takes the reader to the frontier between science and worlds of the impossible (see his author website here. Readers of my science blog will appreciate the creative telling of scientifically impossible stories; readers of my religion blog will appreciate the question of whether, even if these things were possible, would they be good?

The stories in this collection are The Man Who Could Work Miracles, Light Apparel, Flow of Blood, Wisdom Builds Her House, Rock Bunnies, Entropy, Olga the Science Cat (all reviewed earlier), Doghouse (reviewed here), and Fresh Air (reviewed next).

This story, Doghouse, is really nothing more than oddball scientific comedy. A genetic engineer uses dog DNA to build a house that breathes and grows hair. The joke goes too far when the house gets up on its legs and walks away with the engineer inside. This is, of course, impossible, but Rice, a biologist, makes it just believable enough to enjoy.

Blood-Brain Barrier: Stories from the Borderlands of Science, Story 7. Olga the Science Cat

This collection of short stories by Stan Rice, who is also the author of nonfiction books of popular science and science novels, takes the reader to the frontier between science and worlds of the impossible (see his author website here). Readers of my science blog will appreciate the creative telling of scientifically impossible stories; readers of my religion blog will appreciate the question of whether, even if these things were possible, would they be good?

 

The stories in this collection are The Man Who Could Work Miracles, Light Apparel, Flow of Blood, Wisdom Builds Her House, Rock Bunnies, Entropy (all reviewed earlier), Olga the Science Cat (reviewed here), Doghouse, and Fresh Air.

Rice wrote a book about the scientific method. But how much better it would be to have the scientific method explained to you by a cat! No, not a talking cat like the gorilla in Daniel Quinn’s Ishmael. In Olga the Science Cat, the cat com-mew-nicates by grabbing items and leaving them on the floor or table in such a way as to answer human scientific questions. After Olga helps the kids with their science fair projects, she helps save the little girl’s life by dragging a hamburger sack from the garbage, with its evidence of salmonella poisoning.

Rice is not known for juvenile literature. This is the only piece of juvenile literature I have seen from him.

A Word for Weeds

 

In French, there are at least two ways to say “weed,” and they reflect two different attitudes.

The first way reflects the same feeling that we usually have in English when we say weed: mauvaise herbe, bad herb. This is not only a value judgment but also shuts the door to asking any further questions about the plant.

This phrase reinforces our prejudices that weeds are noxious. There are, of course, more exceptions than you can shake a stick at. One example is the pineapple weed Matricaria.

 

I have admired this weed since junior high school. It grows in dry, compacted soil (such as hiking paths). It does not bother to grow tall. You can hardly avoid stepping on it. And if you do, what is the plant’s response? To release a pleasing pineapple-like odor!

The second way to say weed is adventice. This suggests a feeling that weeds take advantage of any opportunities that are available. In English, we say that roots are “adventitious” when they grow out of stems to take advantage of opportunities, such as a vine crawling up a wall or a tree trunk. From this viewpoint, weeds are very creative and waste no time in filling any resource space that may be available. However inconvenient weeds may be, we have to admire this aspect of their lives.

One way that weeds do this is that they adjust their growth and physiology to circumstances much better than other species do. I devoted a considerable part of my Ph.D. thesis (see here for a simplified version of it) to this idea. Weeds live under conditions where they never know what they will find: a lot of light, or mostly shade; a lot of water, or little; a lot of nutrients, or sterile soil; etc. This is why I prefer the French term adventice over the term mauvaise herbe.