In just three weeks, my debut book—Venomous: How Earth’s Deadliest Creatures Mastered Biochemistry—hits shelves in the U.S. The book is my tribute to the most notorious animals on the planet and the awesome weaponry they wield. I talk about the diversity of venomous animals, from the serpents, spiders and scorpions on land to the ocean’s snails, octopus and jellies. It’s a trip around the world and down to the molecular level to reveal how venoms work, and how they might hold the cures to our most hated diseases. The Scientific American Books site for it has links to every which way you could possibly want to pre-order it.
It’s hard to describe how much this book means to me. It’s been a long, windy road to get to this point. Venomous is the melding of my two selves: me, the scientist, and me, the writer. I started blogging in between undergrad and grad school, but for much of my career as a writer, I kept my work separate from my studies. I didn’t write about what I worked on. It wasn’t until I dug deeper into my PhD that I began to blend my science with my blogging and writing. Now, I consider my scientific expertise and viewpoint an integral part of who I am as a writer. Venomous is an extension of what I do here, a more in depth, long-form version tying together many of the themes that I explore in Science Sushi. If you follow this blog, you already know my style, and what to expect from Venomous. If you’re new here, welcome!, and feel free to poke around to get a better sense of me as a writer; if you like what you see, then I hope you’ll check out book.
So far, the early response has been very encouraging. Booklist’s Nancy Bent called it “superbly entertaining popular science” and gave it a starred review. Publisher’s Weekly and Kirkus both gave the book positive reviews, and Greg Laden from ScienceBlogs gave it a glowing review, calling it “one of the better science books I’ve read in some time,” and noting that although he’s a biologist, he was “learning something new with every page turn.” You can also hear me talk venoms with Greg and Mike Haubrich on the Ikonokast Podcast.
If you like what you read, I would be grateful for any help with getting the word out about Venomous—talking it up on social media, leaving reviews on Amazon or Goodreads, or however else you wish to show your support. If you want to buy a signed copy, hit up the Book Passage website.
Below is a brief description of the book, what others have thought of it, and a list of where you can find me in the near future. This information can also be found on my website, and will be updated regularly.
Mahalo nui loa,
I was born in 1985, which is a bit of an awkward year, culturally. I’m technically a millennial, but I was a bit too old for most of the fads that swept through the millennial generation. I never owned a Bratz doll. I missed the brief yo-yo boom. And I never played Pokémon, in game or card form. That’s not to say I was too cool for that sort of thing as a kid; I was a total geek. Heck, I had a dragon deck before the Onslaught block made tribal decks cool (that would be Magic the Gathering, for those who have no idea what I’m talking about)—I just wasn’t quite the right age at the right time to be hit by the Pokémon craze. I had never tried to catch a Pokémon until last week, when my boyfriend and roommate convinced me to try Pokémon Go. It’s… addicting.
A few days later, I was already one of “those” people, glued to my phone as I paced up and down Kohou street. THERE! I stopped abruptly as I engaged a Tentacool that appeared on my screen. My eyes narrowed as I gently flicked my Pokéball at the cp179 Tentacool perched awkwardly on the hood of a parked car. After a few rattles, the red and white ball became still, emitting the “Gotcha!” stars, and I did a slightly embarrassing victory dance (my friend once dubbed it my “T. rex dance” because of my jilted arm movements). As a box jelly scientist, I had been keeping a keen eye out for these jellyfish Pokémon for days, but I had only seen them off in the distance, some three footsteps away. Frustrated, I finally had decided to go hunting near a local canal on my way back home from running errands, hoping I would find these water Pokémon near, you know, water—a tactic that paid off. My goofy grin quickly changed, however, when I was awarded a metal for catching my 10th “Poison-type” Pokémon. “Poison!” I actually exclaimed aloud. “Jellies are venomous!”
This is the fourth and final installment of my four-part series on the Discovery Channel show Venom Hunters. In Parts I, II and III, I explain how the show started from a flawed premise, and went downhill from there, seemingly including breaking laws and staging scenes. In Part IV, I explain why it matters that Discovery Channel and Authentic Entertainment are held accountable.
In May, Discovery made the official decision not to continue Venom Hunters into a second season. Even though the show won’t go on, it’s important to still reflect upon the legacy of the short six-episode series, especially with Discovery’s annual Shark Week kicking off on Sunday.
Not surprisingly, though the professional venom community almost universally condemns how their field is portrayed in Venom Hunters, they are more mixed in their feelings about the show’s ultimate impacts. “I do see some positives to it,” Nathaniel Frank told me when I asked him for his opinion, “but I also see a lot of negatives.” In particular, he was put off by the way the show implied venoms are field-collected. “There’s people now that think they can grab a dirty wine glass with a ziploc bag tied over the top of it and go out on their property and extract from a bunch of copperheads and make a hundred grand, and that’s just not how it works.”
“I personally think—and I told Mr. Barcyzk this—I think it’s absolutely insulting.” Read More
This is Part III of a four-part series on the Discovery Channel show Venom Hunters, and the apparent bad behavior of the network, production company, and cast members involved. Parts I and II revealed how the production company pursued a flawed premise against the advice of several venom professionals, and then probably faked or staged scenes and storylines to promote that premise. In this post, I look at whether the stars were permitted or licensed properly in the states they were filmed.
I can assume the scene above in Venom Hunters’ opening credits was in part meant to build the drama, and in part, to dissuade people from copying the show’s dangerous antics. But perhaps it would have been less ironic if there was evidence that all of the cast members on the show obtained the proper permits for their activities.
In the United States, the permits and licenses required to legally collect and extract venom from native species for sale or scientific research are considered public records, so I contacted the various state regulatory agencies in states where snakes were collected for the show (Arizona, California, Georgia, Florida, Oklahoma, and Texas) and asked 1) whether permits were required to collect and sell venom from native species or collect and sell the snakes themselves and 2) whether the venom hunters that were depicted collecting in their state had those permits. Read More
This is Part II of a four-part series on the Discovery Channel show Venom Hunters and the apparent bad behavior of the network, production company, and cast members involved. In Part I, I revealed how the show failed to get actual venom producers as stars due to their commitment to an inaccurate premise. Now I examine what seems to be flagrant falsification, something Discovery promised they weren’t going to do anymore.
Perhaps in part to reinforce the idea that the cast members were professionals who collect venom as their “day job,” in every episode of Venom Hunters, the audience is told that the hunters are out to “fill an order” or a “contract” for the venom from a certain number of snakes (or the snakes themselves, for one team). For example, we are first introduced to Ed Chapman and Justin Bottrell in Dead Lakes, Florida, where Ed tells the camera: “I got a call from one of the labs that they need three cottonmouths. I don’t like collecting cottonmouths; they’re feisty, they’re aggressive, and if you’re in the water and they go down, you don’t know where they’re at. But the lab needs these snakes for antivenom. Ultimately, if the end result can be saving a life, we’re gonna give it our best shot.”
In each episode, once the snakes are caught, we get a quick reminder of the numbers: how much venom the snake(s) produced, how many doses of antivenom that amount makes, and how many lives will be supposedly saved. But to those who work in the venom industry, the idea that the teams were fulfilling orders for the venoms from three individuals of local, abundant species, especially if the venom was “for antivenom,” is simply ludicrous. Read More
This is Part I of a four-part series on the Discovery Channel show Venom Hunters and the apparent bad behavior of the network, production company, and cast members involved. Stay tuned for more.
“I think the excuse that it’s just TV is bullshit. It’s just TV that hurts the animals, hurts people, and dumbs down science,” Jim Harrison said with quiet anger. It was clear he’s no fan of one of Discovery Channel’s newest reality shows, Venom Hunters. Jim Harrison, the director of the Kentucky Reptile Zoo, has collected venoms for scientific research and antivenom development for decades. He’s one of the most experienced and well-known professionals in the venom business, and he, like many who work with venomous animals for a living, has spoken out on social media against the show.
Jim and I were sitting at a table during one of the breaks on the last full day of Venom Week, joined by several other distinguished members of the venomous reptile community. Carl Barden, director of the Reptile Discovery Center in Florida, sat to my left, his lips slightly pursed as Jim explained his objections. “People are going to go and over-collect, and they have no husbandry skills, so snakes are going to die. And then there are going to be bites, because they don’t know what they’re doing,” Jim said.
“You think it’s going to go that far?” Carl asked, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.
“I do,” Jim replied sternly. “They’re already doing it. We’re already getting calls and emails, people trying to sell us venom, trying to sell us snakes.”
Several nodded and voiced their agreement with Jim. Carl frowned. “I really didn’t think much about it.” Read More
Mosquitoes are one of my favorite venomous animals. These natural phlebotomists have efficient venoms which allow them to effortlessly violate our most precious tissue—our blood—while manipulating our immune system to remain under the radar. You can just imagine how hard that venom has to work to hide the invading mouthparts, which poke around in search of a suitable capillary, as this awesome video from KQED’s Deep Look shows:
You can tell a lot about an book by the author’s photo. My author photo for Venomous, for example, paints me as the intrepid explorer; I look adventurous and daring as I smile unabashedly through the legs of a large tailless whip scorpion (amblypygid). But while the photo is startling, it’s not as bold as it seems. It’s a facade of bravado, not real bravery, as the menacing-looking animal on my cheek is actually harmless. Meanwhile, in his author photo for Sting of the Wild, Justin Schmidt shows that he’s far more daring: on his nose crawls a large Dinoponera ant.
Schmidt probably would laugh at my assessment of the image; after all, he refers to the Dinoponera, the largest ants on Earth, as the “gentle giants of the ant world.” But I went with a non-stinging amblypigid rather than an ant for a reason. According to Schmidt’s own colorful and cheeky index detailing the pain of insect stings, the ant crawling across his face possesses “A pulsing sting with some flavor.” Sure, it only scores a 1.5 out of 4.0 on his pain scale—but that’s 1.5 more painful than any species I would place on my snout.
It’s a photo befitting the book of a man who has been stung by more than 1000 times by some 80+ different species. As an entomologist who studies the Hymenoptera—bees, wasps and ants—Schmidt has a lifetime of experiences to draw upon for Sting of the Wild, his first book, which which hit shelves May 15th. Read More
April marked the twelfth consecutive month of record-breaking temperatures. That’s an entire year of our planet, on land and in the sea, being hotter-than-ever-recorded since record keeping began in 1880. Such extraordinary warmth is affecting ecosystems globally, but perhaps the hardest hit are coral reefs, whose fundamental organisms are incredibly sensitive to the heat.
Earlier this year, authorities in Australia reported that the Great Barrier Reef was in the midst of its worst bleaching event ever. Surveys above and below the water estimated that over 90% of the reefs were affected by bleaching. Now, as the summer wanes down under, scientists are finally able to begin to assess the lasting damage caused by this event. Their findings are heartbreaking. Read More
The global problem of snakebite goes unnoticed by most of us in developed countries. We have good access to medical care, abundant antivenom to treat what few dangerous bites occur, and snake species whose venoms are often manageable. In the U.S., for example, bees and wasps kill over ten times as many people as snakes do. But in other countries, snakebite is a real and neglected problem. Worldwide, snakes claim more than one hundred thousands lives annually, and leave countless more disabled and disfigured. This powerful, heartbreaking seven and a half-minute video is one that everyone should see: