Here’s an interesting little essay about the state of the newspaper world and how the internet is causing major upheavals. It explores various aspects of the crisis, even as North America is suddenly starting to lose some big, established newspapers.

There are some wonderful comparisons with the point in history just after the printing press was introduced, and the immediate societal effects (hint: chaos). New paradigms don’t spring forth fully-fledged, and old ones tend to fall before the new are established.

Historically, newspapers were the most practical way to deliver journalism—that’s the commodity. To defend the printed newsprint itself against a delivery system that is simply more efficient is missing the point of what is happening.

It reminds me of William Gibson’s Bridge Trilogy, specifically All Tomorrow’s Parties, when he speaks of “nodal points” in history: when events and technology come together to change the path of society in some way. The major players of the current day can’t prevent the change; in the end, the new way of working/thinking will likely win out. The question is whether the old players will be left behind, or adapt to the change and somehow retain some measure of their former stature.

One of the most important figures in the history of brain research—and to me, as a former student of brain and behaviour, one of the most tragic and moving—died earlier this week at the age of 82. Henry Gustav Molaison, better known in the psychological literature as H.M., had a brain operation at the age of 27 to try to alleviate intractable seizures (the result of an accident at the age of 9). The surgery—cutting into the part of the brain called the hippocampus—successfully stopped the seizures, but came with a horrifying side-effect: Molaison could no longer form any long-term memories.

His short-term memory—e.g. remembering a phone number for the length of time needed to dial it—was unaffected, and everything he learned prior to his operation was retained, so he could cope reasonably well with day-to-day existence. However, H.M. never remembered experiencing anything or going anywhere a few seconds after doing it. Even when researchers met with him hundreds of times it was always as if he was meeting them for the first time. Every time he was told of his mother’s death his grief was as fresh as if he’d never been told.

From H.M. it was discovered by Brenda Milner of McGill University, that even though one kind of long-term memory is affected by hippocampal damage, another type of memory is not. H.M. could learn complex and difficult motor tasks (e.g. tracing a star while looking through a mirror); even though he never remembered doing the task, he got noticeably better at it over time. This “muscle memory” is why doing things learned long ago, like playing a once much-practised piece of music, or riding a bicycle, can be performed surprisingly well years later.

After working with hundreds of researchers over the years, H.M. had a vague idea that his story was somehow unusual, but he never could parse the details of why. He did thoroughly learn that he had a bad memory. His only life-lasting memories were ones that predated his 1953 operation, and they eventually lost any narrative thread or context in his existence. He remarked that his life was like constantly waking from a dream.

After his death H.M.’s brain was preserved for study, which will hopefully provide researchers with even more insights from a tragic life.

Admittedly I’ve never owned a cat, so technically this is hearsay.

How to Tell Your Cat is Plotting to Kill You

Alayne? Judith?

The Tadpole Badge

In my web meanderings, I’ve come across a club I think Laura and I should join: the Order of the Science Scouts of Exemplary Repute and Above Average Physique. More or less a gang of scientists—profs and students—at UBC, who have founded a growing collective to network, discuss science communication, socialize, and drink, not necessarily in order of importance. They preach the “truth”. And they have some really nifty badges, as shown on their home page. (And yes, they have a group on Facebook.)

By way of our education and our books, Laura and I qualify for a few of them badges already. Heck, if you are reading this, you probably qualify for the tadpole badge yourself. And if we just upped the science content of this blog a bit, another one could be ours. Not sure I want the monkey one though.

Interesting article from smithsonian.com about the growing success of companies to synthesize in the lab gem-quality diamonds indistinguishable from natural stones.

Normally I’d roll my eyes at technologists trying to recreate something natural, but I’ll make an exception in this case. The De Beers cartel has successfully hoodwinked the world into believing that diamonds are rare and expensive (with that concomitant malarkey about three-months’ salary for a ring), and many workers’ lives have been ruined or lost in perpetuating these myths. If lab-grown diamonds eventually pop the De Beers bubble and make diamonds as cheap as costume jewellery, I give the natural diamond industry a Nelson Muntz “Ha ha!” (sorry, Canadian diamond companies.)

As a follow up to my post about Vladimir Nabokov’s son’s dilemma, it seems as though Dmitri has come to a conclusion about whether or not to publish his father’s last story The Original of Laura.