Amazon.co.uk
Kary Mullis won the Nobel Prize for his invention of the polymerase chain reaction, a chemical procedure that allows scientists to "see" the structures of the molecules of genes. Mullis is no shy, socially inept bench chemist, though; on the contrary, he has led as big and full a life as possible, opening himself to experiences like hallucinogenic drugs, surfing, casually handling dangerous chemicals, and taking shots at the sacred cows of science. Dancing Naked in the Mind Field is Mullis's own chronicle of his adventures, from wooing countless women to possibly being abducted by aliens, and it's a funny, shocking tale indeed. This man certainly doesn't suffer from lack of self-esteem, and yet you might want him along on a trip to the astral plane, say, or a tour of the human genome. Mullis is a fascinating character and his autobiography will put to rest forever the stereotype of scientist as skeptical nerd. --Therese Littleton
Amazon.com
Kary Mullis won the Nobel Prize for his invention of the polymerase chain reaction, a chemical procedure that allows scientists to "see" the structures of the molecules of genes. Mullis is no shy, socially inept bench chemist, though; on the contrary, he has led as big and full a life as possible, opening himself to experiences like hallucinogenic drugs, surfing, casually handling dangerous chemicals, and taking shots at the sacred cows of science. Dancing Naked in the Mind Field is Mullis's own chronicle of his adventures, from wooing countless women to possibly being abducted by aliens, and it's a funny, shocking tale indeed. This man certainly doesn't suffer from lack of self-esteem, and yet you might want him along on a trip to the astral plane, say, or a tour of the human genome. Mullis is a fascinating character and his autobiography will put to rest forever the stereotype of scientist as skeptical nerd. --Therese Littleton
From Kirkus Reviews
Partway through this breezy autobiography, Nobel laureate Mullis suddenly seems like someone you might want to invite to a dinner partyinformed, entertaining, even brilliant. Peruse him longer, though, and youll have second thoughts: hes outrageous, extreme, offensive, and just nutty. First, let's do brilliant: Mullis invented PCR, short for polymerase chain reaction, the technique for mega-multiplying scant amounts of DNA. PCR technology has revolutionized genetics research, not to mention forensic medicine: it can establish with high probability who was the father, who the rapist, who the murderer. The story of his precocious scientific curiosity and ingenuity (but not exactly how PCR works) is nicely told: Mullis the kid thought it was fun to make stuff that went bang. Then we learn that the gift for synthesizing often turned to a taste for mind-altering stuff. Thus altered, Mullis the Capricorn waxes enthusiastic over astrology, condemning all behavioral science for ignoring the configuration of stars and planets at the time of one's birth. He admits to having been saved from a combination of antihistamines and nitrous oxide by a lady who traveled on an astral plane to knock the breathing pipe from his mouth. But what really irks is when Mullis pontificates on other aspects of science. HIV does not cause AIDS, he says; we've been fed a bill of goods by greedy scientists who are out to make a buck. A hole in the ozone layer? More nonsense. Ditto global warming. Throw in a California lifestyle, surfing, girl-watching, two or three wives, and his belief that we ought to spend money defending ourselves against an asteroid hit, and youll have a fair description of the mix to be found here. To his credit, Mullis' style is pithy and to the point. If only the point made sense half of the time! -- Copyright ©1998, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved.
From Library Journal
Heralded for his discovery of the polymerase chain reaction (a.k.a. "DNA fingerprinting"), the Nobel prize-winning chemist is also an accomplished surfer, believes in the feasibility of alien abduction, and is probably the most famous witness never called to testify at the O.J. Simpson trial. His book establishes Mullis as the heir to the late Richard Feynman's crown as science's flakiest genius.
Copyright 1999 Reed Business Information, Inc.
Copyright 1999 Reed Business Information, Inc.
Kurzbeschreibung
Popular science from a Nobel Prize winner who applies his keen and eccentric mind to all manner of scientific assumptions. From astrology to mind- powered lightbulb switches, Mullis is brilliant, funny, provocative and charismatic. Perfect for fans of Mr Feynman.
-- Dieser Text bezieht sich auf eine vergriffene oder nicht verfügbare Ausgabe dieses Titels.
Über den Autor
Kary Mullis was born in North Carolina in 1944. He grew up in Columbia, South Carolina, and attended the Georgia Institute of Technology. He received his doctorate in biochemistry in 1973 from the University of California at Berkeley. In 1993 Dr. Mullis was awarded the Nobel Prize and the Japan Prize for his invention of the polymerase chain reaction (PCR). He lives in La Jolla and Anderson Valley, California, with his wife, Nancy.
Leseprobe. Abdruck erfolgt mit freundlicher Genehmigung der Rechteinhaber. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.
From Chapter One
Christopher was settling down to some Japanese television when the knock on the door came. It was the imperial security forces and they wanted him downstairs. He dressed and came down to the cocktail party with gray-suited men on either side of him. I spied him in the doorway looking interested but also like a high school student who had been dragged away from the television. He was promptly sent through the receiving line, and the emperor's face lit up when Chris introduced himself in Japanese. It was a memorable night.
I was confident I was going to receive the Nobel Prize in 1992. The host of a German TV show had called and explained that each year he did a documentary about the winner of the Nobel Prize in chemistry, and he was preparing the 1992 show. In the past, he had successfully picked every winner of the prize for chemistry. He claimed he was a very good guesser, but I figured this bastard must get inside information, he must be getting the word from somebody on the committee. That means I'm going to win it this year. His TV crew spent a week filming me in La Jolla and Mendocino. I was very excited. And I was actively humble.
As it turned out, I had good reason to be humble. I didn't win. I stopped speculating about when I might get it and I tried not to pay attention. About six months before the 1993 awards were to be announced, my mentor from Berkeley, Joe Neilands, from whom I had learned a little bit about chemistry and a whole lot about life, told me, "I wouldn't be surprised if you got the Nobel Prize this year. But you'd make it easier for the committee to give it to you if you didn't talk to the press so much. They don't have to give it to you till you're dying."
Neilands said that it was probably okay that I admitted loving surfing and women, but he thought the committee might frown on the fact that I admitted using LSD. Surfing, women, and LSD might be too much, he told me. They might decide to wait until I settled down in twenty or thirty years. Joe had spent a sabbatical or two at the Karolinska in Sweden and he knew the scene. We both knew I wouldn't shut up.
After being disappointed in 1992, I stopped thinking about the Nobel Prize. The German guy never called back. I wasn't even sure when the awards were to be announced. My phone rang at 6:15 a.m. on the morning of October 13, 1993. I thought I knew who it was. On both the eleventh and twelfth someone from Japan had sent me a fax at exactly that time. He thought it was my afternoon. So when the phone rang in my bedroom I stayed in bed, knowing the fax machine would eventually pick it up. Then I heard someone leaving a message on my answering machine. I heard the words "Nobel Foundation."
I leaped out of bed. I picked up the phone just as the speaker hung up. Great, I thought, I've missed the Nobel Prize call. Will they call back? Almost instantly the phone rang again. He had heard me just as he'd hung up. "Congratulations, Dr. Mullis. I am pleased to be able to announce to you that you have been awarded the Nobel Prize."
"I'll take it!" I said. I knew that they couldn't make you take it and I didn't want there to be any doubts. We talked for a minute, and I was warned to be prepared for an assault by the media, but since this was the first time I'd ever won a Nobel Prize, there was no way I could have anticipated the response. I figured maybe I'd get ten calls or something. I didn't realize how big the known world is. As soon as I hung up, I tried to call my mother in South Carolina. Coincidentally, this was her birthday and I reckoned this was a fine birthday present. But when I picked up the phone, a reporter from the AP was on the line. The phone hadn't even rung. I spoke to him for a second, then hung up, and tried again. I picked up the phone, and someone from UPI was on the line. Then somebody from a local station called. They wanted to bring a camera crew over. Then Steve Judd showed up as he usually did around seven, and I told him that I had just won the Nobel Prize. He said, "I know. I heard it on the radio. Let's go for a surf."
The local station that wanted to bring over a camera crew was still on the line. I told them that I would be available in an hour. I needed to wake up and I would be out surfing. Of course, they asked me where we were going. I looked up at Steve and we nodded agreement. I said we would be up at Thirteenth Street in Del Mar. We headed in the other direction to Tourmaline. I needed time.
Several friends joined us. When we came out of the water, a camera crew from another station was waiting. They had gone directly to my apartment and found out from a neighbor where I usually surfed. They didn't know me, and they were asking everyone who came out of the water if he was Kary Mullis. Andy Dizon admitted to being me. They asked him how it felt to win the Nobel Prize. He proclaimed that it was like a dream come true. They asked him what he would be doing the rest of the day, and he turned to me and said, "Wow! I just remembered, this is Kary Mullis." They didn't show that on the nightly news.
By the time I got back home, my house was completely surrounded by print and broadcast reporters and camera crews. As it turned out, none of the other Nobel laureates that year were serious about surfing, and "Surfer Wins Nobel Prize" made headlines.
Friends began arriving with Champagne, and the party began. That afternoon I finally reached my mother. I wanted to tell her to stop sending me articles about DNA, since I had now won the Nobel Prize for my expertise on that subject. My mother often mailed me articles from Reader's Digest about advances in DNA chemistry. No matter how I tried to explain it to her, she never grasped the concept that I could have been writing those articles, that something I had invented made most of those DNA discoveries possible. She probably hoped that winning the Nobel Prize might enable me to be published someday in Reader's Digest.
The party continued for two days. Eventually it moved north to my place in Mendocino. Roederer Vineyards was just down the road, and no one failed to notice. I woke up late one afternoon from a dream that I was dead in a coffin. Winning the Nobel Prize can be hazardous to your health.
I invited my mother, my two sons, and a nice woman named Einhoff, whom I'd been dating for only a few weeks, to accompany me to Stockholm for the ceremony. I also took Cynthia, the mother of my two boys.
That year two Nobel Prizes in chemistry were awarded. Michael Smith, a Canadian who had demonstrated that you could change the sequence of a gene using oligonucleotides, was also honored with a Nobel Prize. He too invited his former wife, their children, and his girl friend to the ceremony. This kind of coincidence cannot be assigned a statistical probability because it happens only once.
I was informed that the proper dress for the awards ceremony was white tie. I went to an Italian tailor in La Jolla and he made me a beautiful set of white tails. About a week before I was to leave for Sweden, I saw some photographs that had been taken at the 1992 ceremony. The laureates all were in black. White...
Christopher was settling down to some Japanese television when the knock on the door came. It was the imperial security forces and they wanted him downstairs. He dressed and came down to the cocktail party with gray-suited men on either side of him. I spied him in the doorway looking interested but also like a high school student who had been dragged away from the television. He was promptly sent through the receiving line, and the emperor's face lit up when Chris introduced himself in Japanese. It was a memorable night.
I was confident I was going to receive the Nobel Prize in 1992. The host of a German TV show had called and explained that each year he did a documentary about the winner of the Nobel Prize in chemistry, and he was preparing the 1992 show. In the past, he had successfully picked every winner of the prize for chemistry. He claimed he was a very good guesser, but I figured this bastard must get inside information, he must be getting the word from somebody on the committee. That means I'm going to win it this year. His TV crew spent a week filming me in La Jolla and Mendocino. I was very excited. And I was actively humble.
As it turned out, I had good reason to be humble. I didn't win. I stopped speculating about when I might get it and I tried not to pay attention. About six months before the 1993 awards were to be announced, my mentor from Berkeley, Joe Neilands, from whom I had learned a little bit about chemistry and a whole lot about life, told me, "I wouldn't be surprised if you got the Nobel Prize this year. But you'd make it easier for the committee to give it to you if you didn't talk to the press so much. They don't have to give it to you till you're dying."
Neilands said that it was probably okay that I admitted loving surfing and women, but he thought the committee might frown on the fact that I admitted using LSD. Surfing, women, and LSD might be too much, he told me. They might decide to wait until I settled down in twenty or thirty years. Joe had spent a sabbatical or two at the Karolinska in Sweden and he knew the scene. We both knew I wouldn't shut up.
After being disappointed in 1992, I stopped thinking about the Nobel Prize. The German guy never called back. I wasn't even sure when the awards were to be announced. My phone rang at 6:15 a.m. on the morning of October 13, 1993. I thought I knew who it was. On both the eleventh and twelfth someone from Japan had sent me a fax at exactly that time. He thought it was my afternoon. So when the phone rang in my bedroom I stayed in bed, knowing the fax machine would eventually pick it up. Then I heard someone leaving a message on my answering machine. I heard the words "Nobel Foundation."
I leaped out of bed. I picked up the phone just as the speaker hung up. Great, I thought, I've missed the Nobel Prize call. Will they call back? Almost instantly the phone rang again. He had heard me just as he'd hung up. "Congratulations, Dr. Mullis. I am pleased to be able to announce to you that you have been awarded the Nobel Prize."
"I'll take it!" I said. I knew that they couldn't make you take it and I didn't want there to be any doubts. We talked for a minute, and I was warned to be prepared for an assault by the media, but since this was the first time I'd ever won a Nobel Prize, there was no way I could have anticipated the response. I figured maybe I'd get ten calls or something. I didn't realize how big the known world is. As soon as I hung up, I tried to call my mother in South Carolina. Coincidentally, this was her birthday and I reckoned this was a fine birthday present. But when I picked up the phone, a reporter from the AP was on the line. The phone hadn't even rung. I spoke to him for a second, then hung up, and tried again. I picked up the phone, and someone from UPI was on the line. Then somebody from a local station called. They wanted to bring a camera crew over. Then Steve Judd showed up as he usually did around seven, and I told him that I had just won the Nobel Prize. He said, "I know. I heard it on the radio. Let's go for a surf."
The local station that wanted to bring over a camera crew was still on the line. I told them that I would be available in an hour. I needed to wake up and I would be out surfing. Of course, they asked me where we were going. I looked up at Steve and we nodded agreement. I said we would be up at Thirteenth Street in Del Mar. We headed in the other direction to Tourmaline. I needed time.
Several friends joined us. When we came out of the water, a camera crew from another station was waiting. They had gone directly to my apartment and found out from a neighbor where I usually surfed. They didn't know me, and they were asking everyone who came out of the water if he was Kary Mullis. Andy Dizon admitted to being me. They asked him how it felt to win the Nobel Prize. He proclaimed that it was like a dream come true. They asked him what he would be doing the rest of the day, and he turned to me and said, "Wow! I just remembered, this is Kary Mullis." They didn't show that on the nightly news.
By the time I got back home, my house was completely surrounded by print and broadcast reporters and camera crews. As it turned out, none of the other Nobel laureates that year were serious about surfing, and "Surfer Wins Nobel Prize" made headlines.
Friends began arriving with Champagne, and the party began. That afternoon I finally reached my mother. I wanted to tell her to stop sending me articles about DNA, since I had now won the Nobel Prize for my expertise on that subject. My mother often mailed me articles from Reader's Digest about advances in DNA chemistry. No matter how I tried to explain it to her, she never grasped the concept that I could have been writing those articles, that something I had invented made most of those DNA discoveries possible. She probably hoped that winning the Nobel Prize might enable me to be published someday in Reader's Digest.
The party continued for two days. Eventually it moved north to my place in Mendocino. Roederer Vineyards was just down the road, and no one failed to notice. I woke up late one afternoon from a dream that I was dead in a coffin. Winning the Nobel Prize can be hazardous to your health.
I invited my mother, my two sons, and a nice woman named Einhoff, whom I'd been dating for only a few weeks, to accompany me to Stockholm for the ceremony. I also took Cynthia, the mother of my two boys.
That year two Nobel Prizes in chemistry were awarded. Michael Smith, a Canadian who had demonstrated that you could change the sequence of a gene using oligonucleotides, was also honored with a Nobel Prize. He too invited his former wife, their children, and his girl friend to the ceremony. This kind of coincidence cannot be assigned a statistical probability because it happens only once.
I was informed that the proper dress for the awards ceremony was white tie. I went to an Italian tailor in La Jolla and he made me a beautiful set of white tails. About a week before I was to leave for Sweden, I saw some photographs that had been taken at the 1992 ceremony. The laureates all were in black. White...
