“Is it beer yet or can I still have a raisin?”
Okay, here’s something you don’t see every day.
As you may know, we here in Baroque Mansions are just crazy about science. There was that day I compared myself to a nematode, to quite good effect I thought in fact. This was more appropriate than you might think. I actually have a species of trilobite named after me. Yes, I do. It has lots of spikes and a cute bum, apparently, and it took a very long time indeed to find the right one. And, er… there was something else, too.
See, the thing about science is, it’s about how things work, exactly the same as meta-pscience (i.e., poetry) is. It is about owning not only the world but our perceptions of it and the stories we tell about it.
Now, as you may also know, writing instructions is one of the hardest things to do well. For one thing, it requires a highly methodical mind, with the power to observe closely, break the observed action into component elements, and describe concisely. (Er – I think that’s it…) To create an image in the reader’s mind of the thing just described, using correct, evocative language. To omit anything that doesn’t contribute to either the image or the effect the image may have.
And who has these skills? Besides poets, I mean?
Scientists, my dears. They have ‘em in spades. And I have found where they hang out.
You may also have wondered where you could find Bonehenge. Well, wonder no more, for it is with the scientists.
And if you ever wanted to know how to brew beer in a coffee pot, using only materials commonly found on a modestly sized oceanographic research vessel, your search is over! The answer is at hand. (N.b.: A handy tip for next time you are packing to go aboard an oceanographic research vessel: “The hops are the hardest, and you may have to forgo their goodness. Alfalfa or some other green roughage may work, but a clever biologist will bring their own hops on board.”)
Like everything else, you can treat that as a metaphor if you like.
Terrific! As a fellow science groupie, I thank you.
Last night I watched the very moving film – Heavy Water – featuring work by the scientist/poet Mario Petrucci. I’ve never accepted C P Snow’s Two Cultures division between science and the arts. Some of us do both. Most of us need both.
Sue, I think “groupie” hits about the right note. The scientists of my acquaintance are generally horrified by my inattention to what they consider to be accuracy, and I think their horror is kind of cute. (While I also, don’t get me wrong, admire it! But my favourite nematode ever was the one I said was wearing lipstick.)
And Colin, I know. Where would Donne have been without the 17th century’s excitement about scientific discovery? I always wonder why we think it’s such a good idea to silo everything off: I find it depressing when I meet (or read!) people who write, but don’t know about anything. I do my little silly dances, but in fact science IS what I said, and (of course) so much more…
if i squint and scratch my head and poke my tongue out from the corner of my mouth and think very hard … might i be able visualize a trilobites bum ?
Hello Tristan! Well, if you’re very lucky, you just might. I must drop by and see how things are going on your own splendid blog, I have not been getting about much lately… lovely to see you.
Poetry and science always makes me think of D.H. Lawrence’s:
RELATIVITY
I like relativity and quantum theories
because I don’t understand them
and they make me feel as if space shifted about like
a swan that can’t settle,
refusing to sit still and be measured;
and as if the atom were an impulsive thing
always changing its mind.
Thanks for the shout out. I’m sure you would make a lovely nematode.