Houghton Mifflin's series has always leaned heavily toward the pop in popular science and nature, favoring topical, crowd-pleasing subjects like nanotechnology, dark matter, chimps and robots, robots and chimps, stem cell research and—that perennial favorite—mental abnormalities from the case files of Oliver Sacks. Just about all of these show up in the 2008 edition, yet for the first time the bulk of these essays aren't even nominally scientific (unless you feel, as the editors seem to, that everything is science, in which case the word itself is meaningless). One look at the table of contents shows that only a handful of this year's essays came from sources that might be considered 'sciencey,' while a full third are from The Atlantic and The New Yorker—where Gerome Groopman, Guest Editor, works. As a reader of the series for the past eight years (and someone who found even The Elegant Universe impenetrably technical) I've been more than happy to go along with their always readable, never-too-taxing selections. And this year's pieces, putting aside the Science and Nature rubric, are almost all excellent, they just miss the point for someone like me who actually reads this series, year after year, to keep up with scientific developments, or at least feel like I am. Instead I feel condescended to, being told that an essay about online "scam-baiters" hoodwinking Nigerians somehow belongs here.
That said, there are many highlights, among them two fantastic essays on language, one about an Amazonian tribe that seems to defy the central tenet of Chomskyan linguistics, and another about the deciphering of a long-lost Incan language recorded using knots. The award for the creepiest essay must go to Freeman Dyson, for his piece Our Biotech Future, in which he envisions a world of "user-friendly," "do-it-yourself" genetic engineering kits, with which we can design our own pets and such. "Few of the new creations will be masterpieces," he laments, but, hey, they're just living things, right? The essay, line for line, is laugh-out-loud horrifying, with Dyson, the quintessential cavalier scientist, solving problems like rural poverty with a wave of his hand—through the grand, abstract use of genetically modified crops—or disposing of our unwanted cars by designing termites to eat them. Of nature's failure to produce plants with black leaves, which he believes would be more efficient, he concludes, "Perhaps we will not understand why nature did not travel this route until we have traveled it ourselves." Our grim new future awaits.
What really makes these collections worth reading are the pieces I can always count on to profoundly change my view of the world. There was only one this year, Darwin's Surprise, by Michael Specter, on how retroviruses, over the course of human history, have written themselves into our DNA and shaped our development. It's the kind of essay I hope to see a lot more of in future editions, one that's truly worthy of the title Best American Science and Nature.