- Shopping Bag ( 0 items )
Some locks of hair found in the secret compartment of a family heirloom was the catalyst for Ball, a National Book Award winner for Slaves in the Family, to embark on a genetic family history. He became animated with the thought that through DNA analysis of the hair he could discover some truths about his Ball ancestry, such as whether his father's maternal grandmother, Kate Fuller, was part African-American. As he relates his experiences with various DNA labs, Ball also describes the hard science behind DNA forensics, informed by conversations with experts in the field. But the account's drama comes from a finding that suggests a Native American ancestor in his family tree. Another lab contradicts this evidence, and the error affects Ball profoundly, leading him to rail about the fallibility of science, the dangers of making science the new religion and scientists, specifically molecular biologists, the new priests. Forensic DNA testing has become hot (exemplified by Henry Louis Gates Jr.'s televised testing results), and as Ball's own emotions show, is also playing into Americans' sense of identity. Ball's tale will intrigue America's many amateur genealogists and also serve as a cautionary tale. (Nov. 6)Copyright 2007 Reed Business Information
How much can DNA analysis tell us about ourselves? How prepared are we to accept alternative family histories it suggests? Most important, how many of us are equipped to examine and interpret the findings critically? Surprised to discover locks of long-deceased relatives' hair concealed within a family heirloom, Ball (Slaves in the Family) decided to use forensic science to investigate his genealogy. The results caused him and his kin to reconsider both their "thoroughly white" ancestral origins and their confidence in DNA testing. Some readers may be offended by the central story of this book, while others may view it as a tempest in a teapot. Nonetheless, Ball's portraits of aristocratic forebears and contemporary geneticists are fascinating, and his wry commentary on pre-20th-century, white, upper-class South Carolinian mores entertaining. Nonscientists will benefit from his lucid explanations of genetic techniques and terminology. The final chapter, however, disappoints, as the author abandons his inquisitive approach to indulge in complaints about how scientists interpret genetic data and communicate their conclusions to the public. Recommended for public and academic libraries. [See Prepub Alert, LJ7/07.]
—Nancy R. Curtis
"Ball is a first-rate scholar-journalist.... Outside Faulkner, it will be hard to find a more poignant, powerful account of a white man struggling with his and his nation's past." — Shane Harrison, The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
A STRANGE DISCOVERY caused me to write these pages, like the frozen hunters that have fallen out of melting glaciers in the Alps, and thousand-year-old bog people who have surfaced from moors in Ireland. I found something similar to these things, though not an ice-covered mummy. Due to the chance appearance of a stash of ancient DNA, which turned up in the living room, I became, for a couple of years, an amateur forensic examiner. I recommend the experience, except for this part of it: after falling under the scrutiny of genetics, I could no longer be sure who or what I was. Whereas there used to be no doubt.
What follows is a personal investigation of DNA science. It begins with an intimate finding. Many years ago, some distant relatives collected biological material -- from themselves. They wanted to preserve it, but they probably didn't expect that someone in the future would want to subject it to laboratory analysis, extract genetic material from it, and draw conclusions about them from the results. Which is what occurred, the events that take place in this book.
After discovering a hoard of family genes, I brought it to the attention of DNA scientists and forensic examiners. I educated myself about molecular biology and the things people do with deoxyribonucleic acid in forensic inquiries and in genetics labs. At the start, possibly the most trenchant thing I knew about DNA, the majestic manual of life, was that up close it looked like the Guggenheim Museum. In part, this was because I'm that suspect thing in the eyes of the scientific enterprise: a nonscientist. Chemistry and biology had never aroused me, and I didn't feel the excitement for the "miracles of science" that the public is called on to admire. Nevertheless, my living room was to become a molecular biology salon, part genetics classroom and part forensics office. I wanted to be entertained and enlightened. I didn't plan on a crisis of identity.
DNA science calls a lot of narcissism into the room. What genes do you carry? Who are you? Where did you come from? People with restless minds go over these things in a loop. The wondering about biological inheritance, what has come from your parents, and, for parents, what's going from you to your children, leaves you vulnerable to half-made answers. But, having returned from a kind of genetic quest, I testify that fantastic discoveries lie along the way, provided you don't think of them as having the truth of religion.
The forensic investigation I planned and the one I got turned out to be very different. Using my unusual collection of DNA, I'd expected to write a genetic profile of a family. By reputation, genetics was that miracle tool that could see through the body, and so I thought it might be possible to document one family's biological nature. It didn't happen. Instead, I've written a story that tracks some of the limits of genetics, rather than showing off its reach. But this result is more interesting, and more disturbing.
My tale has two plots. In the first, it is a scientific travelogue, one person's journey through the field of genes. I visit researchers in their laboratories and habitats, talking to people who do DNA analysis, learning how they do it. In a parallel plot, this book is a piece of family history, though it's a special kind, one made possible by forensics and not solely by memory or research. These pages tell the stories of several people, long dead, whose lives are lighted up by trace biological evidence they left behind. The idea of a genetic family portrait survives, but it's more modest; the surprises come from what the scientists do to the evidence, not from their revelations about it.
When I finished, I realized that I had set up a kind of forensics of the self. An esoteric field that will be of little use to the police, but gratifying to the person who wonders who they "are." It's an old enigma -- who you and your family are, your race, your identity -- that genetics and detective work promise to decipher in a different way.
The investigation began, dumbly enough, with a mute piece of furniture.
Copyright © 2007 by Edward Ball
1 The Desk 5
2 The Molecule 25
3 Out of Africa 49
4 Americanus rubescus 71
5 Intragression 89
6 Kate Fuller 107
7 The Color of Home 121
8 Cousin Marriage 135
9 Poisoned Children 151
10 Faith in Fathers 169
11 Machines for the Molecule 185
12 The Phantom Mutation 215
13 Deep Time 237
Posted December 27, 2012
I love the previous Ball books but very disappointed in this one. More about DNA history rather than the Ball history. No real story.
1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.