Fishing for American culture

Writer John Berendt claims that one of the reasons it took him so long to sell "Midnight in the Garden of Evil," which eventually became a record-breaking best seller, was that publishers weren`t sure where it would fit on bookshelves. It was fiction, nonfiction, travel and biography all rolled into one. Louv`s publisher might well have had the same dilemma - except more so. This picaresque treatise on fly-fishing could go on the sports and outdoor life shelves because of the information the book actually contains on the subject of fishing. But despite the title and the fact that the author`s encounters with people across the United States are connected to fishing, that turns out to be the least of its charms.

It is also a series of travel essays along the lines of John Steinbeck and Charles Kuralt. Louv seeks out colorful people in unusual places and then sits back and pays attention while they tell their tales. And it`s history. The lakes, rivers and towns where Louv`s travels take him have historic and geologic stories of their own. The book could even be considered sociology: The interviews reveal people from every socioeconomic stratum of U.S. culture, and in one touching tale about fishing with his son, Louv comes to terms with the fact that the boy would rather be back in his tent reading.

In one chapter Louv does, literally, go fly-fishing for sharks and makes some startling revelations about the process. In others he discovers a mall devoted to fishing equipment and meets up with a truck driver who fishes mentally for relaxation. At a bass fishing tournament, he learns about cooperation among the competitors but also how someone who breaks the rules can become a pariah. He discovers that men aren`t the only ones who like to go fishing, has an outing with Robert Kennedy`s son and reflects on his own love of the activity.

This is a comprehensive book about people, sport and the love of life. One story tempts to the next in what is an unusual and satisfying reading experience. - Glenda Winders

"It Ain`t Necessarily So" by Richard Lewontin; New York Review; 332 pages; $24.95. In the promotional material for biologist Richard Lewontin`s "It Ain`t Necessarily So," there is a line from paleontologist Stephen Jay Gould that reads: "Lewontin is simply the smartest man I have ever met."

Now Gould is no dummy. Indeed, anybody who`s ever read one of his essays in the magazine Natural History or any of his books, knows that he can be wonderfully brilliant and brilliantly obtuse. You can`t help but get the feeling that he`s saying something really important, if only you could figure out what exactly he was saying.

So it seems only fair and reasonable to offer the obvious warning here: Lewontin`s latest effort requires effort. Culled from various essay-reviews Lewontin has written over the years for The New York Review of Books, "It Ain`t Necessarily So" explores the state of modern biological science in general, and the Human Genome Project in particular.

It is fashionable - and judging from the ocean of books on the subject, enormously profitable - to ascribe all manner of incipient miracles to the genome project, which sometime later this year will fully map the 60,000 to 80,000 genes that comprise and describe our species.

Indeed, the hype is inescapable: With the human genome mapped, advocates breathlessly suggest, medicine will become obsolete since it will be better, easier and faster to fix the gene that causes a disorder or disease than to prescribe treatment or drugs. Incurable diseases will be cured.

Replacement genes will remedy physical ailments like poor eyesight or genetically linked behaviors like violence and alcoholism.

Lewontin doesn`t buy any of it. He never has. In "Biology as Ideology: The Doctrine of DNA" (a 1993 book that is as brief - just 128 pages - as it is brilliant), Lewontin vociferously announced his skepticism of the notion that genes by and large determine fate. His thinking here hasn`t changed. It has only become sharper.

Biological determinism, according to Lewontin, is an illusion and a conceit of modern science, which presumes that anything can be dissected, analyzed and understood.

But does the identification of the genetic cause of a disease mean medical science has found a cure? Of course not, Lewontin responds, not in the short or long term. Humans - and all other organisms - are more than the sum of their parts. They are the product of their environment, the complex interplay of nature and nurture, the result of chance, mutation and variation.

Still, the attractive power of science can seem almost overwhelming. Surely, if you believe only half of what you read about advances in genetics, science will eventually understand at least the really important stuff.

Lewontin is almost caustic in his reply. Most science, he says, is "the art of the soluble," to borrow a phrase from the later British immunologist Peter Medawar. After all, scientists are only human. Like the rest of us, they want to make something of their lives. They want to leave their mark. As a result, Lewontin says few researchers are inclined to tackle the really difficult questions where chances of success are minimal.

"When faced with questions that they do not know how to answer - like `How does a single cell turn into a mouse?` or `How did the structure and activity of Beethoven`s brain result in Opus 131?` - the only thing that natural scientists know how to do is to turn them into other questions that they do know how to answer. That is, scientists do what they already know how to do." If that sounds a bit harsh, it is. These essays - which range from a comparison of Darwin`s and Mendel`s contributions to science (Darwin gets too much acclaim at Mendel`s expense) to fatally flawed studies of human sexuality to Dolly the cloned sheep - are intentionally hard-edged and controversial. Lewontin does not suffer foolish ideas gladly.

But to his credit, he recognizes that there are plenty of smart people out there who do not agree with his point of view. In several chapters, Lewontin allots significant space for their rebuttal and an exchange of ideas.

So what`s it all mean? For those lacking the credentials and gravitas of a Harvard professorship (which both Lewontin and Gould possess), "It Ain`t Necessarily So" can sometimes read like a university lecture from hell, imperious and technical to a fault.

But occasionally, as you`re slogging your way through a passage on self-recognition at the molecular level (again), something clicks. There`s a glimmer of insight, of understanding. And the next thing you know, you begin to feel a little like that guy in the commercial who got a really good night`s sleep at his hotel. You feel pretty darn smart. (c) Copley News Service

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Author: Scott LaFee