The story of the monk who experimented with peas in his monastery has all the highs and lows of great fiction. Mendel was a man of nervous constitution (whenever he had to visit the sick and dying he was so overcome physically that he had to take to bed) who was determined to work out how traits are inherited. He spent seven years in the monastery garden experimenting on over 300,000 strains of plants. Determined to discover how species change, adapt and arise anew but essentially remain the same from generation to generation, he worked out that traits are inherited independently, that they come in pairs, one from each parent. Mendel presented a paper outlining his findings in 1865, just 6 years after Darwin's The Origins of Species came out. While Darwin's work provoked agitated debate, Mendel continued to labour away in silence in his garden and his work was completely ignored. Mendel sent his paper to fellow scientist Carl von Nageli who told Mendel that his work was incomplete and unconvincing. He encouraged Mendel to create hybrids from hawkweed which Naegeli knew was incredibly difficult to achieve as he had himself spent years working on them. Was he furious that a younger man had struck on something far more original than he could ever produce? Did he deliberately divert the monk After Mendel's death all his papers were burnt in a bonfire in the monastery. Was this routine housekeeping or the result of a fit of jealousy by a monk who succeeded him as abbot? Finally, in 1900, 35 years after it first appeared, Mendel’s paper was found by the Cambridge scientist William Bateson. It became immediately apparent that Mendel was onto something extremely significant. Had Darwin known about his work many of the debates about the details of natural selection might have been resolved. This is a captivating book about a remarkable and neglected man who played an enormous role in our understanding of the mechanisms of life itself.
I'm a long-time science journalist and a contributing writer for The New York Times Magazine. In addition to my most recent book -- Twentysomething: Why Do Young Adults Seem Stuck?, co-authored with my daughter Samantha Henig -- I've written eight others, including Pandora’s Baby: How the First Test Tube Babies Sparked the Reproductive Revolution and The Monk in the Garden: The Lost and Found Genius of Gregor Mendel, a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award (and also, I'm tickled to report, a finalist for the Goodchild Prize for Excellent English from the Queen's English Society). My articles about health and medicine have appeared in The New York Times Magazine, Civilization, Discover, Scientific American, Newsweek, Slate, and just about every woman’s magazine in the grocery store. I am vice president of the National Association of Science Writers, and in 2010 I received a Career Achievement Award from the American Society of Journalists and Authors as well as a Guggenheim Foundation fellowship. I went to Cornell and have a master’s in journalism from Northwestern. I live in Manhattan with my husband Jeff, a political scientist who teaches at Columbia University's Teachers College, and have two grown daughters, Samantha and her older sister Jess Zimmerman.
My passion is genetics. I wish that I had had the foresight to follow the science route at university but I took the easier way out, I think, and just followed the arts. Nevertheless, there are excellent books around on genes, genomes and human genetics, etc. and so I can continue my studies in this way.
This is the story of Gregor Mendel, an Augustinian monk who lived in Brüunn, in the 19th century the capital of Moravia. He originally experimented on mice but Bishop Schaffgotsch decided that it was inappropriate for a monk to study sexual activities in mice and due to this Mendel switched over to plants. Over many years he studied and experimented on many varieties of peas and other plants.
He had come from peasant farming stock and he just wanted to escape from it and so when the chance came to escape and enter the monastery, he took it. Thanks to Abbot Napp, who had taken a great liking to Mendel, he encouraged him to study and consequently ended up an educated natural scientist.
Mendel had written a paper on his experiments and it was published in 1865, six years after Darwin’s “The Origin of the Species” was published. Nothing further came from Mendel’s paper though, even though obviously people had read it, and it wasn’t until 1900 that it saw the light of day in a most unexpected way.
William Bateson, a zoologist, was a don at St John’s College, Cambridge and was a great supporter of Darwin’s works on evolution and natural selection. Bateson was on the train to London to lecture on Hugo De Vries, a Dutch Botanist but for some reason at the time, three other scientists had mentioned Mendel’s paper to him and he just happened to have an article on his work him. Chance certainly played a strong part in the life of Mendel, even posthumously. Bateson embraced Mendel’s views as his were the same; so the term “genetics” was coined from that time.
Mendel never managed to qualify as a teacher and suffered from depression. From time to time he would take to his bed and was often there for quite a long time. He nevertheless seemed to enjoy his scientific studies on peas and plants and was pained that he had to give this all up when he became the abbot.
I just wonder what would have happened if Darwin had met Mendel and they had exchanged ideas? And to think that genetics came about all because of peas.
I found this to be a super book and for anyone who is interested in monasteries, priests and genetics, well this is the book for you.
An entertaining story of the birth of the science to genetics. Things I learned? Well Mendel's paper was in Darwin's library at the time of his death, the pages uncut (hah, it was on his to-read list.) Who knows what might have been if he'd got around to reading it and understood how inheritance actually works and how that supports with the Theory of Natural Selection?
And I learned that Mendel was ordained as a priest on my birthday (give or take 120 years) which was irrationally pleasing.
We've all heard his name in high school biology class. Here's the story of his life, well told. Gregor Mendel spent his life at a Monastery in what is now the Czech Republic. This slim volume tell the story of a scientific genius working with no support or collaboration, in the most obscure of places. Though he was given no credit for his brilliant insights until many years after his death, what he discovered truly changed the world.
Gripping work, packed with much detail about the life of Mendel, his personal failures and successes, his experiments, his contemporaries and his benefactors. Wonderful character portraits of Mendel, Bateson, Morgan,de Vries, Weldon and many others. Packed with amusing anecdotes. Vivid depictions of the bitter scientific rivalries between the pro- and anti-Mendel camps. Fascinating information on the origin of the terms used in modern genetics, including the naming convention for mutant alleles. Superb construction of the historical context and the political/linguistic tensions of early 20th century Moravia, and the more recent political events that led to the relocation of Mendel's statue during the Soviet era, because of the perceived conflict between Mendelian ideas and those of the Soviet scientist Lysenko (who denounced classical genetics as "heresy" and propounded the belief that humans could be turned into anything society wanted them to become, irrespective of their genetic limitations). A couple of technical errors. Page 231, line 32: replace the word "phenotype" with "genotype". Page 251, paragraph 2: the dominance or recessivity of a gene does not generally determine its heritability (unless it is an embryonic lethal, or affects fertility of the carrier). Moreover, the text on page 251 is ambiguous as to whether the word "it" refers to the disease or the gene encoding it, rendering the sentence incomprehensible. The author might have intended to say that, given that the trait was not evident in the maternal line, and given that the gene is dominant, the gene would have to be paternally transmitted to his daughter.
Offers insights into one of the most towering figures in modern biology, but of which not much is popularly known except that he's a monk who spent time crossing peas in the monastery garden.
There's not much about Mendel himself in this book, which was a disappointment since I'd hoped to learn a little about the man. This isn't an inspiring read.
Een leuk verhaal over het leven en de experimenten van Mendel en hoe zijn inzichten uiteindelijk via veel strubbelingen geleid hebben tot het vakgebied van de genetica. Soms is het wel een beetje langdradig.