Many years ago when the world was young, I was putting together an anthology of Nature papers on Chinese paleontology, for the University of Chicago Press. The idea was to mark the explosion in our knowledge of the history of life, directly precipitated by spectacular fossil material from China from the late ’90s onward. I was aided and advised my my colleague and friend Dr Zhe-Xi Luo of the Carnegie Museum in Pittsburgh.
“What’s the title going to be?” asked Luo, during one of our many, long transatlantic conversations.
“I don’t know yet”, I replied. "I do have a working title, though: Enter The Dragon " – a cheesy reference to Kung Fu movies of yore. Either Luo didn’t get the reference, or he did, but passed swiftly on.
“I have a better title: Rise of the Dragon”, he said.
This title would have a double meaning – it would refer to the rise of the Chinese dragon itself as a power in palaeontology, as well as allude to the many remarkable ‘dragons’ themselves, the most famous being feathered dinosaurs such as Sinosauropteryx and Caudipteryx, almost all of which I’d had the privilege of publishing in Nature. Even better, Luo explained, Rise Of The Dragon transliterated directly into four Chinese characters. We should ask someone, Luo said, to do the calligraphy for us.
He then took some time to explain the tradition in China of using calligraphy as a status symbol. In China, it is considered a great honour to be asked to do calligraphy. But the honour reflects back on you if the person who agrees is of very high status.
Then Luo bowled me a curveball. The person we should ask would be Jiang Zemin. The President of the People’s Republic of China.
To cut a long story short, President Jiang Zemin agreed, and supplied a magnificent scroll with the four characters of Rise of the Dragon – now framed on the wall of the Nature office in London – and his calligraphy duly adorned the book, when it came out.
There is an art to names, an art expressed as art itself, as well as in the way that names are chosen. Names, therefore, are important: they are words and signs of power.
This is why, when I handle a paper for Nature that features new taxonomy, I regard it as the author’s absolute right to choose whatever name they like for the fossil they are describing. Naming your baby fossil is, after all, a personal thing. Referees do get a look in, of course – but only as regards the scientific appropriateness of the attribution (and sometimes the niceties of classical grammar). This is why the fossil described in the first draft as Sundanthropus florianus became, in revision, Homo floresiensis – the first because of the referees’ conviction of the close relationship of the creature with humans of modern aspect (a view not universally shared by the authors, who, it must be said, have a point); the second, because florianus translates more closely not as ‘pertaining to the island of Flores’ but as ‘flowery anus’, which, if left uncorrected, might have led to the wider dissemination of rhymes such as
There was a young man from Australia
Who painted his bum as a dahlia
He sold very well
At tuppence a smell
But fourpence a lick was a failure.
In general, therefore, I gritted my teeth at the naming in Nature of a fossil amphibian recovered from what was once a fetid coal swamp as Eucritta melanolimnetes (The Creature From The Black Lagoon); and winced slightly at the announcement of a rock dinosaur called Masiakasaurus knopfleri .
The arrival on my desk of a paper naming an Eocene primate as Afradapis longicristatus would, then, be seen as something of a relief. An adapid (member of a particular group of extinct primates) from Africa; bearing teeth with long-crested cusps. A good, solid name. Nothing flighty.
Except that the very ordinariness of the name can be read to be as sharp as the cusps it describes. The description of Afradapis is, as it happens, is meant – in small part – as a reality check, an antidote to the extraordinary sound and fury that accompanied the publication of another Eocene adapid, Darwinius – a sound and fury which, as it turned out, signified rather less than it promised. For the full story, I’d encourage you to turn straightway to the excellent accounts in the salons of Ed Yong and Brian Switek , to name but five three.
I must say, the authors of Afradapis longicristatus showed admirable restraint, thus emphasizing the point, of course. Had I been the senior author, I’d have called it Schadenfreudia. And then, as editor, I’d have had no option but to look the other way.
Not, however, without a smile.
Last updated:
Wednesday, 21 Oct
2009 - 21:28 UTC
Great post, Henry.
I’ve always had Drosophila geneticist envy because of the beautiful gene names that they have been allowed to produce over the years – normally with a fine wry sense of humor. For some reasons, this practice is frowned upon in most other disciplines. Pity the poor yeast and worm researcher in particular; how can ced-10 or arp-6 compete with technical knockout, cheap date or gherkin?
Then Luo bowled me a curveball. The person we should ask would be Jiang Zemin. The President of the People’s Republic of China
亨利 – 这种不同文化之间复杂的相互作用.
I’m curious…what would you have named Ardipithecus ramidus?
@Jenny – thank you! I think the Drosophilists benefit from precedent: the practice of giving Drosophila mutants colorful names started way back in Morgan’s fly room in Columbia – a simpler age. Many of these mutants are more than amusing – they are descriptive, in the same way as all the best formal taxonomic names. The cheap date mutant is a fly with a low alcohol tolerance (I believe). For a rogue’s gallery of amusing taxonomy, go to this site curated by the estimable Mark Isaak.
Yeast mutants suffer from the fact that whatever you do to yeast, it remains rather featureless and blob-like (though what would be wrong with a yeast mutant called Mr Blobby?). And many Caeonrhabditis mutants refer to malformations of the vulva, so propriety perhaps dictates a more sober system of nomenclature.
The great thing about taxonomy is that its practice is standardized – were this always the case with some of the more buccaneering areas of biology. I remember Nature publishing three papers, back to back, on some new factor important in some area of cell biology. All the papers described the same thing – all the authors insisted in keeping their own nomenclature. Crazy.
@Alejandro – que?
@Ken – Ardipithecus ramidus was named years ago, in Nature . It was first described in 1994 as Australopithecus ramidus – a few months later the same authors decided to refer the species to a new genus, Ardipithecus (Nature 375 88, 1995). This proved to have been the right thing to do, given that Ardipithecus does seem quite a different creature from Australopithecus.
Henry, please can I suggest that you don’t put most of your content in the second box when writing posts? I missed this, and it’s fascinating, because RSS only shows what’s in the top box.
And, on topic, Sophie knows lots of fart and bum limericks. But not many Drosophila names.
Henry, please can I suggest that you don’t put most of your content in the second box when writing posts?
Me bad. I should learn to me more of a – gasp – journalist, and put some more enticing material up front.
I look forward to it!
It means in English
Henry – This complex interaction between different cultures.
I have the impression that it should be difficult the interaction among paleontologists of different cultures so dissimilar, it is necessary to be tolerant.
Henry – excellent post, and that book of yours looks to be all kinds of awesome. I’m tempted to order it, but the excuse that it’s for Junior Wintle #1 will likely not wash since it’s a weeny bit advanced for him at the moment…
I have to admit that _ Eucritta melanolimnetes_ made me smile, tooth-grittingly non-scientific though it may be. The knopfleri thing is just silly though. It should have been Ferrolepidopterus innagaddadavidai or something.
Bloody markup language. Where’s MT4?
Richard W – Excuse me my ignorance: ¿What is the MT4?
Henry – Great books!
Alejandro, MT4 is the Messiah.
Richard – has nothing to do with Bible?
Nothing at all.
You have a point. Thank you Richard. You are really tolerant. I’ve investigated more about the Messiah program now!.
Nice post Henry. I love the calligraphy… I think I found inspiration for my next tattoo and I can even claim a (vaguely tenuous) science link!
@Alejandro and Richard: MT4 is not the messiah. It’s a very naughty boy.
@Ian – you might seek further inspiration at Carl Zimmer’s Science Tattoo Emporium
Actually, here is a better link
@Henry – maybe is a gene Male/Femme T4 of Drosophila melanogaster for the Testosterone/phéromone in the 4 loci, no a naughty boy.