Blame Nic for this…but did you know you can put your face on a dancing elf and make a spectacle of yourself? If you have the guts, click here for the show.
Or if you’d rather, watch Nic dance. All the faculty out here at the University of Minnesota Morris are elfin, as you can see.
Now we just need to get all the scienceblogs people to join in, and we can have an all-dancing scienceblogs review!
This could get disturbing. Here are the latest scienceblogs elves:
Most books that teach the basics of evolutionary biology are fairly genteel in their treatment of creationism—they don’t endorse it, of course, but they either ignore it, or more frequently now, they segregate off a chapter to deal with the major claims. There are also whole books dedicated to combating creationist myths, of course, but they’re not usually the kind of book you pick up to get a tutorial in basic biology. In my hands I have an example of a book that does both, using the errors of creationism heavily to help explain and contrast the principles of evolutionary biology—it’s fascinating. This is what we should do if we were to “teach the controversy” in the classroom; it’s not what the other side wants, because teaching it honestly would mean the creationists would be the comic relief and endless whipping boy of the course, as they should be.
The book is The Science of Evolution and the Myth of Creationism(amzn/b&n/abe/pwll) by Ardea Skybreak. It’s very good, but right up front I’ll mention its flaw, and one reason few scientists write books from this perspective: the frequent comparisons with creationism mean we’re also hoping the book will someday be hopelessly obsolete, if ever we can get those myths treated like the jokes they are. Scientists who are not engaged in the culture war are going to regard the book rather quizzically, since it does raise up nonsensical issues frequently; it really requires a peculiarly modern American context to make it all work. It’s one of those books that, the more it is read, the less relevant its approach would become.
But it does work in that context. Skybreak covers all the key concepts, but does so in a passionate, refreshingly aggressive way. She doesn’t hesitate to call a stupid idea stupid, and back up the charge with the evidence. If your interest in evolution isn’t simply academic, this is an excellent book to simultaneously inform and instruct, and supply the reasoning to deal with creationist foolishness. It’s also refreshing to see a book that isn’t timid about pointing out that fundamentalist religion is the source of the problem, and that isn’t afraid of offending creationists. It makes for an invigorating read, and I recommend it highly.
It’s not too late to order it for Christmas! It’s perfect for that person who wants to learn some solid biology, but also wants to be an activist for good science.
I do feel obligated to mention one thing that didn’t disturb me at all, but some readers might be concerned about. The book began as a series of articles in The Revolutionary Worker. There are a few hints of sympathy for socialist ideals in a few of the sidebars and endnotes, a sympathy I share (perhaps with significant reservations not held by the author), but otherwise, this is not an ideological work. Read it for the good science and the healthy slams against creationism without reservations about the source.
One of those things we professors have to struggle with every year is textbook decisions. Your standard science textbook is a strange thing: it’s a heavily distilled reference work that often boils all of the flavor out of a discipline in order to maximize the presentation of the essentials. What that typically means is that you get a book that is eminently useful, but isn’t the kind of thing you’d pick up to read for fun, and then we hand it to our undergraduate students, who may be in our class for only the vaguest of reasons, and tell them they must read it. Finally, of course, at the end of the semester most of the students take that expensive reference work down to the bookstore buy-back and get rid of it (not me, though! I’ve still got my undergraduate developmental biology text on my bookshelf).
The other thing that goes on is that as textbooks age, they get denser and denser. Gilbert’s Developmental Biology(amzn/b&n/abe/pwll) is probably the best book in the field, and I certainly love my copy, but it’s also been accreting great stuff for years with many new editions. That’s good for me, but I worry that it may be too much for undergraduate students, most of whom want a general introduction and aren’t necessarily planning to go on to do anything specific in development. That’s why I went with Wolpert’s Principles of Development(amzn/b&n/abe/pwll)—it’s good, but it’s also a little lighter and a little less intimidating than Gilbert’s.
The other thing I try to do is to toss in some supplemental reading: lighter fare with a narrower theme and, with any luck, a narrative and a more personal insight. That’s sometimes harder to find, but the advantage is that these are books you can imagine someone picking up at a bookstore and reading for enjoyment, so maybe even my students who go on to become doctors or dentists or lab techs or insurance salesmen might continue to browse the science shelf at the Barnes and Noble and keep up with the topic.
This year, I assigned Carroll’s Endless Forms Most Beautiful(amzn/b&n/abe/pwll) and Zimmer’s At the Water’s Edge(amzn/b&n/abe/pwll) as the supplemental reading (in past years, I’ve used Brown’s In the Beginning Was the Worm(amzn/b&n/abe/pwll), but two is about the limit of what we can handle with discussing a few chapters a week; it might come back in the future). I’ve always felt a little bit of trepidation about using At the Water’s Edge, just because my course is on development, and I could imagine some student complaining that there’s an awful lot of paleontology and physiology in there—but personally, I think a broader integrative view is important, too.
Anyway, I asked my students their general opinion of the books this week, and I also asked them to post a brief comparison to the web. You can read them all here:
I was greatly relieved to learn that my students like the more popular science supplements. Carl will be relieve to learn that his book was the unanimous favorite of everyone in the class. Carroll’s book is good and more tightly focused on the subject matter of the course, but I think great writing wins every time.
Now next Fall I’ll be teaching a general neuroscience course. I’m thinking the two extra books I’ll be using are Soul Made Flesh(amzn/b&n/abe/pwll) (Zimmer again! I’ll stick with a winner) and Weiner’s Time, Love, Memory(amzn/b&n/abe/pwll).
Instead of watching the vote swinging back and forth, why not read these fine carnivals? Or perhaps emit random comments?
The next Tangled Bank will be at Salto Sobrius on Wednesday, 20 December—send your links to Martin Rundkvist, host@tangledbank.net, or me by Tuesday.
Over on Uncommon Descent, Sal Cordova quotes Lauren Sandler from her book Righteous, in a self-congratulatory attempt to claim the Dover decision as a victory for ID (oh, my, but aren’t they desperate). However, if you look at Cordova’s quote, there are…ellipses. Seeing an ellipsis in a creationist quote really ought to make you automatically wonder. Fortunately, Steve Story pulled out the actual, original quote over at Antievolution.org, so you too can see what was edited out.
|
The actual text:
|
The message is simple: NEVER EVER TRUST A CREATIONIST.
This will be my last plea for your vote, to the relief of many. My next comment on this subject will be a miserable concession speech glorious in-your-face crow of triumph, after all the votes have been counted and validated. We’re behind right now, but I’m sure there will be a last-minute rush to the polls to save me.
I think it’s time to up the ante a bit. Since Phil’s doom is imminent, perhaps we need a little wager, just to make everything more interesting. My first thought was to have Phil’s penalty on his loss was to come live in one of my tanks, as illustrated here (little known fact: Phil is a very tiny man. That’s not a telescope in the infamous nude photo, it’s a ballpoint pen). But then I considered what he’d probably demand in return, and although I’m not going to lose, one should never make wagers one can’t pay—and I really don’t want to spend the rest of my life crammed in a tiny space capsule, going “beep-beep-beep”.
So here’s a different deal: if when I win, Phil has to write an article on astrobiology for Bad Astronomy, and dedicate it to ME and all the wonderful, intelligent, perceptive Pharynguloids who had the discernment to vote for this blog rather than his. In the purely hypothetical instance that Phil wins, I have to write an article on something of his choice (I’m not sure what; astronomy is so boring, so I suppose it could be on kittens or whatever. Maybe he can think of something) and similarly dedicate it to his legions of misguided fans (or perhaps, that one guy who cheated and voted 7,000 times for him).
So come on, Phil. Let’s see if you’re tough enough to take the wager.
Vote for Pharyngula (and remember, you can vote every day!). Unless you really want me to say something nice about a mob of chordates.
P.S. The fiercest contest is between Bérubé and “Spunky Homeschool”. At least if I lose, I’m being crushed by a fellow scientist…but if Bérubé loses, it will be to a defunct blog with “spunky” in the name, and the shame will be unbearable. David Horowitz will mock him evermore for it. He’ll be laughed off the hockey rink. He might change his blog name to “Spünký Bérubé”. Help the poor guy out, and vote Bérubé.
Important Update: the terms of the wager have been agreed upon!
When I win: Phil will write an article praising the importance of biology in some way, and most importantly, expressing his appreciation of the perspicacity and noble mien of the readers of Pharyngula. In addition, in his talk at The Amazing Meeting this year, he will take a moment to further sing the praises of Pharyngula (and he must spell it correctly!) before his audience. Rah!
If Phil, by some ungodly miracle and happenstance, should win: I will write a similar article that singles out the Bad Astronomer’s readership for far, far greater praise than they deserve. My extra penalty: I will pose for the SkepDudes calendar. That last was part of my new cunning plan—I am committed now. If I lose, this body will be in the calendar, and I assure you, people opening it to that month will wonder if that is a man or a mollusc. Everyone’s going to vote for me now, lest that photograph ever be made. Mwuhahahahaha!
Can you bear the beauty? It’s another week’s worth of random cephalopod imagery.
Now here’s a difficult question from a reader:
Long time reader, but only very occasional poster here. A friend asked me
to recommend some books to read to small
children (2 -5 years old) to teach the basics of atheism. His son is
getting exposed to a lot of religious training from
his wife, and my friend wants something to present the alternative
perspective.Any suggestions? Feel free to open this up to the blog.
BTW, he is also interested in short books about the sciences suitable to be
read to children of the same age as bedtime
stories. Suggestions in this category are also welcomed.
I don’t have a good answer. Usually, I’d just say that there shouldn’t be “atheist” children’s books — there’s nothing not to teach, and I’d rather kids were just brought up to think for themselves — but this is a request for specific counter-programming against religious indoctrination. Anyone have any suggestions?
Several of us here on scienceblogs have recently discussed the stereotypes of women who read science fiction. Syaffolee puts an interesting twist on it: what about men who read romance novels? She’s reporting on an article that says almost a quarter of the readers are men.
Nobody seems to be speculating on whether guys who read bodice-rippers are cuter than average.
There is an interesting idea there about the genre ghetto. I’ve read a few, years ago, and didn’t care for them much…and now I judge the whole genre by a fuzzy memory of a non-representative sample. Are there great authors I’m missing because I can’t get past the pink covers with bare-chested men on them?
Another genre I avoid is the cowboy novel (in my local library, cowboys and romance are probably the dominant forms of literature, too). I read some Louis L’Amour, also years ago, and was shocked at how bad the writing was, and haven’t gone back since.
Genre fiction seems to be a tool to lock in to a specific segment of the audience, but it’s also an effective way to lock out an even larger audience, because we’ve all got these biases.
