‘The Chemistry Book’ is one of a series of ‘milestone’ publications by Sterling Books. To date the series includes maths, physics, medicine, space, drugs, psychology, biology, engineering and law. From the few books that I have perused, all of the books in this series seem worth reading.
Derek Lowe
This is certainly the case with Derek Lowe’s Chemistry Book. Lowe is an industrial chemist, with nearly 30 years’ experience in various medicinal projects. My early impression was that he is a good researcher and writer, with a level of knowledge that only an industry insider in any given field tends to have. Lowe’s writing is so good and well-informed, that I thought he must have other publications worth reading. Indeed he does. He has columns in Chemistry World, and he has a popular blog, In the Pipeline which is so well written, even hilarious, that his writing is accessible to any educated person. The trick is to dance over the difficult terms and just enjoy the intellectual journey. Good writers like Lowe make this possible, hence their importance in science education. Something always sticks from this process: our brains make that possible. Getting educated is the main challenge, in a world so awash with information that it is difficult to differentiate signal from noise. This is where The Chemistry Book and its kind come into their own. You don’t have to be a chemist to get something out of it. I’m not and I read it from cover to cover.
Some basic markers of a good non-fiction book are: Contents – which should facilitate broad navigation; Introduction – which should give a good overview, with navigation pointers; Notes and Further Reading (or references) – which is probably the most important and should point readers to primary sources and areas for further exploration (poor referencing can be a major red flag); and a comprehensive Index – which should facilitate pinpoint navigation for specific items or subjects.
Derek Lowe’s book scores well in all of these areas. Indeed, while perusing his ‘Notes and Further Reading’ section, I spotted The Disappearing Spoon. I promptly borrowed and read it from cover to cover, delaying the Chemistry Book review by months. This created a conundrum in that the details of Lowe’s book are not fresh in my mind. But for review purposes, perhaps that’s not a bad thing. As time goes by, what sticks in our minds is the impact of various things we’re exposed to, with smatterings of cues that unexpectedly pop up for the remainder of our lives, leading us back to the original source. Lowe’s book is of that calibre.
This is a reference book that is not only accessible to lay readers, but which any serious chemist will almost certainly have on his or her shelves for light reading and occasional ready reference. Astute teachers will point students to it, and astute students will find a smorgasbord of ideas to pursue, in chemistry, science, history, and more.
Chemistry is literally the stuff of life. It occupies the middle ground between physics and biology. In this book, you will find snapshots on the discovery and development of various substances, from those familiar to you to more exotic or specialist substances. Along the way, you’ll learn something of the development of science, some of the people involved, and the role of contingency and sheer happenstance.
For example, Ferrocene (pp.370-371) was discovered in 1951 as an unplanned by-product of research into another substance. Ferrocene is an orange-red crystalline solid, the investigation of which “set off a wave of organometallic chemistry research” and widespread use in chemistry, resulting in the 1973 Nobel Prize for a couple of independent researchers. Lowe notes that “it seems strange that such a widely applicable type of compound had been missed for so long”. It turns out that the chemical precursor of Ferrocene when “distilled through an iron apparatus was known to clog the pipe with some worthless yellow-orange stuff. Thus, a Nobel Prize was scrubbed out with a brush and thrown away”.
Such happenstance is found in more familiar, everyday products, like Gore-Tex, which is used in the textile industry. Gore-Tex is essentially expanded PTFE (polytetrafluoroethylene). Most plumbers, engineers, farmers, and handymen know of PTFE, either by that term, or the term ‘teflon’ tape, or just thread-seal tape. In 1969, American chemist Robert W. Gore “was working with rods of PTFE, trying to carefully heat and stretch them, but he wasn’t getting very far…after yet another unsuccessful run, he gave the next heated rod a furious yank in frustration, then watched in amazement as it expanded to nearly eight times its original length. The rod’s diameter hardly changed, though, and experiments showed that ‘expanded PTFE’ was like nothing anyone had made in the field before. It was about 70 percent air and formed of very fine fibers in a porous net”. Apart from textiles, this material has found use in “wire and cable insulation for electronics, medical devices including implants and sutures, and more”. It transpired that New Zealander John W. Cropper produced a similar material three years earlier, “but the company that used Cropper’s material kept it a trade secret, filing no patents”, unlike Gore.
The history of science is full of such stories, which contributes to its fascination. Lowe’s book has more examples than can be done justice to in a brief review. As noted above, there are gems to be found even in the ‘Notes and Further Reading’ section. Your best bet is to read the book for yourself.
Reviewed by Steve
‘The Fireman’ is a contemporary novel by Joe Hill, set in a possible future where a fungal spore has infected humans. The prevailing theory is that global warming melted the polar ice and the spore was underneath it.
Regular people call it ‘Dragonscale’ because when you catch it, your skin starts to show black streaks and get scaly. That’s not so bad – the worst part is that it causes uncontrollable spontaneous combustion, and many thousands are dying.
Harper is a nurse, volunteering at a local hospital. She wears full body rubber suiting, and is very careful to follow all safety protocols, because no one seems to know how the disease spreads yet. After the hospital burns down, she retreats to her home to hide out with her husband Jacob. After discovering she is pregnant, she also finds black streaks… Jacob is furious, and becomes more paranoid as time goes on. Eventually, he decides they must commit suicide together, because there is no hope…
Fortunately, Harper manages to escape and is guided to a camp of infected by a mysterious stranger dressed as a fireman. The camp is full of long-time infected, who have found a way to co-exist with the fungus. They sing to it … and the oxytocin released brings them into a state of being they call The Bright. The fireman explains that the spore feels what the host feels, so if the host feels happy and safe, the spore doesn’t harm the host … it’s only when the spore feels exposed that it may combust and create ash, which is how it transfers to a new host.
Everything is going very well, until the leader of the camp is attacked. His paranoid daughter takes over, and Harper feels increasingly in danger. The fireman, Harper, and a few friends are secretly planning to leave but when their ‘conspiracy’ is discovered, the leader of the camp takes very extreme measures. All hell breaks loose, but in the chaos Harper manages to escape. After an arduos journey, she and the Fireman finally make it to the famed CDC treatment facility on a remote island, where a cure is being sought. But it’s not what they hoped for….
I enjoyed this novel. It’s not really a horror, more a dystopia and with plenty of action, but also drama and a touch of romance, I think it would appeal to both men and women.
Natalie
Maths is Fun children’s programme for October school holidays is open for registrations on Monday 11 September 2017. It’s for children in Year 1 to Year 8 at school (or homeschooled). Children learn to enjoy maths by applying it to create and have fun. Places are strictly limited so register quickly.
Age groups are separated into four age-appropriate separate sessions each, depending on school years:
Level 1 = school year 1 & 2 (half day)
Level 2 = school year 3 & 4 (half day)
Level 3 = school year 5 & 6 (full day)
Level 4 = school year 7 & 8 (full day)
RUNNING TIMES BELOW – MUST BE REGISTERED TO ATTEND
Woodville Library –
- Level 1 : Monday 2 and Tuesday 3 October ; 10am to 12.30pm both days.
- Level 2: Monday 2 and Tuesday 3 October ; 1.30pm to 4pm both days.
- Level 3: Wednesday 4 October ; 10am to 12.30pm, then 1.30pm to 4pm.
- Level 4: Thursday 5 October ; 10am to 12.30pm, then 1.30pm to 4pm.
Eketahuna Library –
- Level 1: Monday 2 and Tuesday 3 October ; 10.30am to 12.30pm both days.
- Level 2: Monday 2 and Tuesday 3 October ; 1pm to 3.30pm both days.
- Level 3: Wednesday 4 October ; 10.30am to 3.30pm.
- Level 4: Thursday 5 October ; 10.30am – 3.30pm.
Dannevirke Library –
- Level 1 : Monday 9 and Tuesday 10 October ; 9.30am to 12 noon both days.
- Level 2: Monday 9 and Tuesday 10 October ; 1pm to 3.30pm both days.
- Level 3: Wed 11 October ; 9.30am to 12 noon then 1pm to 3.30pm (bring lunch/drink)
- Level 4: Thursday 12 October ; 9.30am to 12 noon then 1pm to 3.30pm (bring lunch/drink)
Pahiatua Library –
- Level 1 : Monday 9 and Tuesday 10 October ; 1pm to 3.30pm both days.
- Level 2: Monday 9 and Tuesday 10 October ; 9.30am to 12 noon both days.
- Level 3: Wed 11 October ; 9.30am to 12 noon then 1pm to 3.30pm.
- Level 4: Thursday 12 October ; 9.30am to 12 noon then 1pm to 3.30pm.
Set in Australia, ‘Big Little Lies’ by Liane Moriarty is the contemporary story of three friends, linked because all their five-year-olds have started school together. The novel starts sort of at the end, with the police investigating a mysterious death at the school Trivia Quiz. As they interview parents, in flashback the story begins to unfold about the consequences of a new friendship between three women…
Madeline is forty, with a rebellious teenage daughter from her first marriage, and a young son and daughter from her second marriage to Ed. To complicate matters, her first husband has moved nearby with his new wife and their five-year-old daughter has started at the same school.
Celeste is the beautiful wife of an extremely successful hedge-fund manager, Perry, and they have twin five-year-old boys. They live in a huge mansion on the waterfront, and have so much money Celeste doesn’t know what to do with it all. On the surface, their life looks perfect, but as the story progresses, we come to know that there is a very dark secret.
Jane is twenty-four and she recently moved because she is looking for someone … hoping and yet, not hoping, to find him. Unfortunately, on his first day, five-year-old Ziggy is accused of bullying a little girl. He is ‘convicted’ by public opinion, even though he swears he didn’t do anything, and other children are instructed to shun him. Furious at this treatment of her new friend, Madeline starts a cold war with the other mothers and the school is soon divided. As the school term progresses, the shennagins of the mothers continue while Jane is quietly trying to uncover the real truth.
Meanwhile, Celeste takes steps to achieve a better future. But it’s a fine line she’s walking, and the consequences end up being extremely dire.
Also produced for television by Netflix, starring Nicole Kidman, Reese Witherspoon and Shailene Woodley.
View from Above
Stars burn their bright fires
Above a world of steel and wires
Concrete acres sound nature’s knell
Would anything burn if the stars fell?
Elegant moon, cool and aloof
Glancing down on the city’s roof
What does she see of beauty or note
In the human playground, the land we smote?
Regal sun all ablaze
Can’t melt the plastic we ditch in our maze
Finding its way to the warming sea
To choke the life that should be free
Celestial bodies I cringe beneath you
To think of how we’ve spoiled your view
The land so changed, the sea so sullied
Bounteous earth so stripped and muddied
What beauty then do we commit
Worthy of being heaven-lit?
Art must be our saving grace
For you to look on from yawning space
Amid destruction we still create
Two thirsts, it seems, we cannot slake
And with painted image and written phrases
We still look up and sing your praises
© Beatrice Hudson
People’s Choice Award: For the love of music (72 views)
Poetry Competition Winner: Forest Fungi
Congratulations to Amy Phillips, and Hayden Macdonald. Winners will be contacted shortly.
Thank you to everyone who participated this year. See you next year!
Check out the Power of Poetry http://www.powerpoetry.org/about
Exits
know your exits
like the rivers in your hand
know your nearest exit
like a palm reader.
Side step the rabbit holes
deep by design,
loop around loop
and back around.
Take olive oil
thats fresh and green
to get you out slick
just fine.
Bow your head forward
calibrate in your grounding
your circumference,
your middle earthen earth.
Tend to your books
square your numbers
work in the craft soil,
the warm and pungent damp.
Oil your branches
your heart line,
know your nearest kind.
© Josie Connor
The Slap
Squeezed under a bed
steamy breaths on hot necks, hearts thumping in young chests
a grizzly beast stomping up the steps
Herbert, the Grandfather
comes
to visit
Flushed out like rabbits, we’d run, but he’d get us
Hauled up on his knees one by one, he’d inspect us
We’d wriggle, fight, kick and cry, desperate
to get away
before
the giant
mottled
hand
closing in on the thigh
delivered 
THE HORSEBITE
He’d roar, sinewy and spittle,
unable to contain his pleasure
tight creases around his eyes
softening in triumph.
We’d slip down once his grip turned to jelly
And run!
Loathing firing out of our fingertips like darts,
out of our toes,
spewing out on our breath,
the roots of our hair
standing
on end
The angry red welt
would appear on my thigh, sometimes two, overlapped,
a criss-cross memory of pain
and on my sister’s thigh, my brother’s
Later, I got rid of his smirk.
A fringe of white lashes shadowing
two cold blue lakes
lie hidden under scribbled brown crayon
Death calls in its own time
to Thames, in Epsom,
while out walking, in bed sleeping
Those who gather for a wake
tell the story of a life
There they all were,
strangers
taking up the space in the kitchen, the sitting room
drinking and drunk
nostalgic and rheumy
eating off my mother’s best china
Rowdy and raucous
vomiting on the hydrangeas
Ash from forgotten cigarettes
falling on the rose patterned carpet
My mother
patient, flushed, weeping silently
behind staring eyes
My father
head uplifted
blue skies
dancing
in his eyes,
sighed a sigh
with the force of a thousand winds
blowing to Africa never to return,
and uttered, ‘He’s gone’.
© Julie Biuso
Dialogue Adonis and the Hetaira
Adonis was moved to enquire
Of a high born hetaira her hire
And if she’d agree
To forfeit her fee
Should desire engender desire
To which the hetaira replied
“Your logic cannot be denied.
Adonis
Should I state as a fact
There’s no joy in the act
You’d likely suspect that I lied”
“Would conscience but let me escape!”
Said Adonis, while peeling a grape
“To plunder your treasure
Without giving pleasure
Would render me guilty of rape.”
Her countenance darkened to thunder
“Your scruples could drive us asunder!
I’d call it obscene”
Cried she “If you mean
To deprive me of pleasure in plunder!
I’d surely not charge to the hilt
Any youth so impressively built
My fee isn’t large:
And to pay as I charge
Would serve to relieve you of guilt.
Moreover, my handsome young man
If all goes according to plan
Tonight you and me
Will guiltlessly be
Disporting upon a divan.”
© Keith Henderson
Adonis: Exceedingly beautiful youth of ancient Greek myth. Courted by the love goddess, Venus
Hetaira: In ancient Greece a hetaira was a female hired to provide companionship to adult males. Whether (as this poem assumes) this included sexual favours is a matter of scholarly debate.
Untitled II
My heart is a conch.
Press your ear here, love;
listen-
An ocean heaves for you,
it turns over every rock
again and again
and again. 
“Onwards”- heed it.
But I remain;
lichen-clothed and half-buried.
My heart is a conch.
A specked carapace;
all ridges and spines,
all echo and echo
and echo.
© Jess Carter
A Life of Hurting
Death seems the best way
But what would that achieve
Pain is temporary relief
But how do you hide the scars
I always feel like nobody cares
When I know deep inside that they really do
Why don’t they show it more
To make me show myself
Why do people hide their feelings
It only makes things worse
Bottling up your emotions
Does not make you a better person
To make life work for you
Is almost an impossible task
Things are sent to try us
To see if we can take the strain
If life was like a lullaby
We would all be better people
But there’s always some big problem
That stands in our way of happiness
Life is a light at the end of a tunnel
Something you can’t reach until you die
So maybe when it’s our time to leave
Will be when we start living our lives
© Karen Wright
Love on the Beach
As we cackle into the end
Of the coastal coarse road,
The succulent sunlight
Forces our skin to erode,
And while I glide down
Silvery streams
Time mentions my name
Again, and again,
Until I hold her hand
To breath
In the depths of
Her passion
Gliding her sculpted fingers
Through the abundant
Shaved shells;
The future mentions
Sensuality, although
I cannot hear the words
The warning of pleasure
The power of woman
On an empty beach – this
Decorated by love
Our very plasm of heat.
© Max Duncan
Angels round here
wear Redbands
and never work nine to five.
They rarely take an hour for lunch.
Sometimes at night
they burn hellfire
for warmth.
Angels round here
feed motherless lambs
and smother Marmite on toast.
They have oilskin wings.
Sometimes they take
things they love
for granted.
Angels round here
mow church lawns
and help out at the school.
They split dry wood for the old.
Sometimes their faces
are well-weathered maps
to their hearts.
Angels round here
love their families
and are quite often sad.
They chase rain-coloured clouds.
Sometimes they ride
the roughshod storm
after a calm day.
Angels round here
don’t always agree
with their fathers.
They do things their own way.
Sometimes they quietly
scream for help
without asking.
Angels round here
carry their crosses
like lovers.
They have demons to discover.
Sometimes they can’t
tell the difference
between them.
Angels round here
wear wide-brim halos at
half mast.
They honour the fallen.
Sometimes they rise
with the dawn
to remember.
Angels round here
seldom believe
in themselves.
They are part of the landscape.
Sometimes they exist
only in lives
of other angels.
© Tim Saunders
Tainuis Canoe
Bound south from Tahiti they set to sea
In a canoe made out of a tree
Setting their course by sun & star
They sought a land they hoped was not far
The waves were mountains high & the wind was strong
But still their little craft did battle on
Each gale that came they fought it through
Until they sighted a land which was new
Wayworn & starved they strained their weary eyes
To that strange land far in the west that lies
With joyful voices they shouted long & loud
This is the looked for land of The Long White Cloud
© Ian Mollison
Dr Seuss’s BIG Secret
Has anyone wondered when reading Doc’s books?
How most of his animals got their queer looks?
Did he only imagine the Lorex and Cat?
Or is something more sinister under that Hat!
The Sneetches and Grinch and all of his creatures,
I reckon I know, of what they all teach us,
I think our good doc was the first of his kind,
Of BIOTECH scientists we’ll ever find!
His creatures are all the result of G.M!!
Its real plain to see, just look closely at them.
They don’t look animals I‘ve ever seen,
And the reason is clear; he’s messed with their gene!
I reckon that somewhere in Monsanto’s stock.
You’ll find all his creatures behind key and lock.
There’s no other way, let’s not be absurd!
To give to old Horton an elephant bird!
I have to believe it, don’t know about you,
That a gene gun was used for thing one and thing two!
A giraffe was involved, I’m certain of that.
It explains the long neck of the Cat in the Hat.
Forget about drawings and books for the young,
Our Doctor Seuss was Monsanto’s big gun!
Yes he drew lovely pictures and books for school teachers,
But his real obsession was making the creatures!
Bio tech companies will open the door.
We know that they’ll do it, they‘ve done it before!
Let’s hope he made sure that he threw out the key
‘Cos the last thing we want is for them to go free!
There’s no doubt about it, with their brains and cunning.
It wouldn’t take long and the world they’d be running!
They’d take over the planet, and get rid of us
They would manage it quickly, without any fuss
There’s one way to save us, a really great plan,
Oh I am so brilliant, I know that I am!
We’ll close all the borders and stop all the trains,
No swimming, no submarines, rockets or planes.
It’s the only thing for it, so here’s what I say
We’ll keep them marooned in the U.S. of A!!
But hang on a sec; it’s popped out of my mind!
Doc’s creatures are always big hearted and kind.
Perhaps they may not be our own kith and kin,
But they’ll save us I’m sure, from the mess that we’re in!
They can run all the companies, countries and banks
They’ll do a great job and deserve all our thanks.
They’re bound to be better, there’s no need to ask us.
Than the ones we have now, with their really high taxes!
With the Lorex in charge of all forest and land.
He’ll put it back right, oh won’t it be grand!
And Horton can run all the governments too
{The ones we have now will do best in the zoo!}
Dr Seuss will be glad as he floats up above
That his books and his drawings are things that we love.
But let’s not be fooled. What is more to the point.
He made all his creatures for saving the joint!!
That’s his big secret .yes that’s what he meant
Dr Seuss; we all love you one hundred percent!
© Lyn Charlton
Tararua Library