1. What made you want to be a chemist?

My inspiration was the man who taught me for four years at Trinity School, Carlisle – Mike Fossey. He showed me the beauty, breadth and logic that underpins chemistry and made me realise what an exciting subject it is. It was a real thrill some years later to send him a paper published with another of his ex-pupils who carried out an undergraduate project with me in Sheffield.

2. If you weren't a chemist and could do any other job, what would it be - and why?

Ancient history always fascinated me - an academic career in that direction would be a possible alternative.

3. How can chemists best contribute to the world at large?

This list is long, as chemistry has a unique ability to permeate so many aspects of our lives. However, perhaps the biggest challenges that the world faces at present relate to energy. We need new and renewable sources, we need to use it more efficiently, and we need to find viable ways to store it and also to store newer fuel sources such as hydrogen. Chemists are central to these issues and their creativity can make a real impact.

4. Which historical figure would you most like to have dinner with – and why?

Nelson Mandela. To endure the imprisonment and then to come out and lead with such wisdom, taking such a major place on the world stage and in the hearts of so many people, means for me that there would be so much to learn from him. And from what I have seen through the media, he would be terrifically good company.

5. When was the last time you did an experiment in the lab - and what was it?

I am in the lab quite often working with members of my group on the identification of liquid crystal phases by optical microscopy. However, in terms of 'rolling up my sleeves' and doing a reaction, the answer is 'rather recently'. Listened to a visiting seminar speaker and went to the lab the same afternoon to make something prompted by one of his slides. Simple reaction – acidify to dissolve the base in water and then co-precipitate. Now all we need to do is get it pure, find out what it does and get a crystal structure…

6. If exiled on a desert island, what one book and one CD would you take with you?

I tend to read contemporary authors such as Ian McEwan, Sebastian Faulks, Louis de Bernières and Peter Carey. However while it is something that I have read only recently, I would take Suite Française by Irène Némirovsky. So much has been written about this book, yet its sheer humanity and observation of the human condition would bear reading over and over again. Music is much more difficult. My tastes are diverse from baroque through romantics and Shostakovich to 60s/70s rock and the present day. However, for its ability to move and stir emotion, Beethoven's 9th Symphony would probably be my choice with his Violin Concerto (which reminds me of the English Lake District) a close second. However, any CD would have to be homemade, as I'd need Debussy's Deux Arabesques No. 1 played by Pascal Rogé and Stairway to Heaven, too.

Duncan Bruce is in the Department of Chemistry at the University of York and works on various aspects of materials chemistry, with a strong emphasis on liquid crystals.

Posted by Stuart Cantrill at 09:55 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Almost every chemist has used mass spectrometry at some point at some point in his or her scientific life, but did you know about all of its cool applications in the study of proteomics? This field has been growing by leaps and bounds as more and more biologists discover the power of mass spectrometry. Check out Nature Methods' special Focus issue on mass spectrometry in proteomics applications.

Allison Doerr (Associate Editor, Nature Methods)

Posted by Allison Doerr at 03:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

[Editor's note: another guest blogger has joined our team...]

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Posted on behalf of Sugar Daddy:

I guess Sugar Daddy is a somewhat ironic nickname, as I am a graduate student, and my friends make anywhere from 2- to 5-fold more money than I do in the so-called “real world,” which I hope (for their sake) is nothing like the MTV reality TV show of the same name. But I do work with carbohydrates, so maybe we should just roll with it.

Anyway, I am in my fourth year of a PhD program working in a chemical biology lab. My research involves the proverbial “little bit of synthesis, little bit of biology,” and things have been going well. I guess you could say I’m living the chemical biology dream: synthesize a molecule, show that it has biological activity in cells, and then take it all the way to a living organism.

This week, I’ve been simultaneously thinking about the past and the future. It is recruiting season in our department, and therefore many wide-eyed first-year students are showing up asking to be told about the research projects in my lab. As I describe my work, which I can more or less do on autopilot, I start to reminisce about what it was like to be a first-year student - how random all the decisions I made then seem in hindsight. Did I choose my school because I “had a better gut feeling” about it? No, I tell myself, it was because I liked the students and professors I had met, and of course the research interested me the most as compared to other schools. And why did I pick this lab? Did I pick my project or was I gently nudged toward it? No complaints, but how much did I really know about what I was getting myself into at any stage of the game? Was I delusional, thinking that I had complete control over my scientific destiny, at least on the five-year timescale? As the saying goes, a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.

And speaking of “as sayings go,” the whole autopilot experience (of describing my project without really having to think too hard about what to say) reminds me of a moment in high school (where we really were naïve, that’s for sure), and specifically in English class. My teacher had us read “Politics and the English Language,” a 1946 essay by George Orwell about how the English language had deteriorated to the point that people merely strung together short familiar fragments rather than construct novel phrases and ideas. I think this essay should be required reading for every scientist, or at least those that will ever have to write a paper, book, or grant proposal. Okay, for the next first-year that shows up, I’m going to describe my project in a completely novel, illuminating way. Ugh, that certainly feels like it’ll be an endothermic process.

So, that was the thinking about the past. How about the future? A post-doc is on the horizon. (There, by the way, is Orwell’s thesis in action.) More on that next time. With all this thought about the past and the future, I suppose that doesn’t leave much time for the present. Guess I’ll wait until tomorrow to HPLC that compound…

Posted by Catherine Goodman at 03:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

My continued search into the literature revealed this interesting contribution, which focuses on the development of imaging agents that target hydroxyapatite (a calcium salt related to bone growth and calcium deposition in general). The overall idea is that if we had near-infrared contrast agents that were targeted to microcalcifications (which also usually consist of hydroxyapatite), we could better detect the early stages of breast cancer because the agents would be easy to visualize in live subjects. Bisphosphonates are known to bind hydroxyapatite, but making these compounds hasn't been easy, either because of poor solubility, or the poor yields or harsh conditions of known reactions. John Frangioni and his colleagues now report both a new, facile method for the synthesis of these compounds and concomitant conjugation to a known NIR contrast agent, and also their application to imaging in pigs. It seems pretty interesting, in particular as I've never made any C-P bonds myself.

The other aspect of the paper which intrigued me is the use of 'large animals' in the title. While I don't think anyone would argue that pigs are large animals (and P.S.: love the graphical abstract), I found myself wondering: how large of an animal can these compounds really be applied to? People? Horses? Bears? Even... dinosaurs? (which, as I still like to nurture my third-grade self, seems about the biggest animal you could ever imagine. Sorry, blue whale). It made me further think that maybe we're missing an opportunity to have more nerdy science lingo: similar to the generic 'gazillion' to mean a very large number, maybe we could use the prefix 'dino' to indicate a very large size of something? Then, as kind of the antithesis of 'nano', we could have dinotechnology (although maybe we've already had this one?), dinorobots, dinomachines... In more common usage, you could say someone has a dinohouse (instead of a mansion), a dinohead (for someone really egotistical), or a dinocollection of ... well, whatever you have a lot of. What do you think? Will it catch on? Will it be, dare I ask, a dinophenomenon?

Catherine (associate editor, Nature Chemical Biology)

Posted by Catherine Goodman at 05:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (1)

I've been searching the literature today, and came across this interesting paper about platensimycin. This antibiotic was only initially reported last year, but there are already a bunch of total and partial syntheses of it. So why do we need yet another synthesis of it? Because we always need more ways to synthesize molecules. Duh. This one, however, it particularly fun because it reports the synthesis of a key intermediate for platensimycin without using protecting groups (in 8 steps; ~10% yield compared to 10-16 steps and ~5-11% yield) and in a much more scale-up friendly manner (several steps are quantitative and require no purification). It makes me wonder if this protecting group-free idea (recently also reported by Baran et al.) is catching on, or if Tiefenbacher and Mulzer just have their eye on the prize (in terms of thinking about the chemical engineering side of making the molecule). What do you guys think? And is it even possible to dissect those two motivations?

The other fun thing about this paper is that it's one of those syntheses where I want to get out my molecular model kit to see how all these 3D transformations occur.

Finally, another interesting thing I discovered in looking deeper into this story is that the molecule was only initially reported (in the literature) on May 18th, 2006, and the first total synthesis of the molecule was submitted for publication September 21st of that same year. Clearly, someone either has magic hands or had advance knowledge of the structure. For those of you in the synthetic field, how critical is it to get inside information on new structures that are found? And what's the source in general - a friend who does this research, a talk at a conference, your own culture of bacteria? And what's the price of this knowledge, or is it, like this synthesis, free?

Catherine (associate editor, Nature Chemical Biology)

Posted by Catherine Goodman at 05:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

1. What made you want to be a chemist?

I think I get my scientific leaning from my father, presumably a mix of genetics and his infuriating tendency, when I was young, to answer any question either with a 'what do you think?' or a demand for a numerical estimate. That I ended up in chemistry rather than another science, probably reflects the great mix of real world problems with opportunities for creativity.

2. If you weren't a chemist and could do any other job, what would it be - and why?

I'm occasionally tempted to continue a family tradition of giving up science/engineering in favour of art; however, my early teen plan to become an architect would be a more grounded choice, and one that might provide me more satisfaction - though, I would probably try to squeeze in as many textures, shadows, and angles, as possible, using dynamic effects that change with time or conditions.

3. How can chemists best contribute to the world at large?

Clearly there are many problems facing society that require technical solutions, particularly relating to sustainability and energy; the alternative is effectively a return to the dark ages or worse. Chemists have a pivotal role in developing the enabling molecules/materials and understanding. At the same time, it is important to recognize that directing research too tightly may not be the best strategy; pure, open-ended research is needed to create dramatic breakthroughs.

4. Which historical figure would you most like to have dinner with – and why?

Aristotle, the father of natural philosophy, an eloquent speaker, an enquiring mind, not to mention a rich source of political and cultural perspective on our own world. I'm not sure about his cooking, however – perhaps Auguste Escoffier would be a better choice.

5. When was the last time you did an experiment in the lab - and what was it?

About a month ago, looking at electrochemical impedance spectroscopy of what we call 'structural supercapacitors' - an invention based on multifunctional materials that simultaneously store energy and provide mechanical strength and rigidity.

6. If exiled on a desert island, what one book and one CD would you take with you?

If I'm allowed to transfer two battered tapes of live performances of my uncle, John Bell, to CD, his songs would cheer me up immensely during any lonely moments. For my book I might take Heller's Catch 22 - a favourite that improves with rereading - but I'd probably settle for a good 'Learn Mandarin' textbook. It would certainly keep me busy, and I love learning new things; the kanji would provide aesthetic pleasure, and Chinese might even be the world language by the time I get off the island.

Milo Shaffer is in the Department of Chemistry at Imperial College and works on the synthesis, modification, and application of nanotubes and nanorods.

Posted by Stuart Cantrill at 05:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Finally, another way to inject some Hollywood into science: an adaptation of the 'six degrees of Kevin Bacon' game, or if you prefer, just 'six degrees of separation' in general. This one references Stuart Schreiber partially because he's obviously a great scientist in the field of chemical biology, but mostly because the alliteration is nice. If you fall into the California chemical biology contingent, you could play 'Six degrees of Schultz'; whichever floats your boat.

While knowing how I'm connected to Schreiber (me to Vince Rotello, to Harry Wasserman, to Gayle Schulte (then at Yale), to Schreiber; 4 degrees of separation) and Schultz (me to Scott Singleton, to Peter Dervan, to Schultz; 3 degrees of separation) is fun, the non-specific one seems more pervasive amongst conference attendees or just any scientists who are meeting and finding out, yet again, how small the world of science truly is (as when I randomly discovered my current coworker's undergraduate TA was one of my good friends in my postdoc lab). Even amongst people you already know, it's fun to find out how interconnected you are (for example, Nina Goodey, my undergraduate study partner (just moved to Montclair State), connects to me through Steve Benkovic (her postdoc advisor) who was also Singleton's postdoc advisor; perhaps we should rename the game 'Six degrees of Scott Singleton'? Also nice alliteration).

Are there any rules that would need to be changed to adapt this game to the wide world of science? Does someone have to work for someone else, or can just being at the same university at the same time (and presumably knowing each other) count? What about collaborating with someone? Can you count the person who hosted your visit to a university, or invited you to give a talk? These last two are certainly less easy to know about or verify, so perhaps a rule would be that there has to be evidence of the connection in the literature? (in which case, perhaps my connection to Schreiber would be more appropriately recapped as JACS 2001, 123, 7626; JOC 1989, 54, 2785; JOC 1992, 57, 2641; JACS 1987, 109, 4718). What do you guys think? And how do you connect?

While you think about that, I’ve got to go see if I can convince someone to make it six degrees warmer in here…

Catherine (associate editor, Nature Chemical Biology)

Posted by Catherine Goodman at 03:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

This year is speeding by, as evidenced by the fact that our October issue has gone live. This one is a focus on 'molecular metrics', which deals with all the different ways that cells and biological systems count and measure both physical objects and states (such as changing times or other conditions). The pieces range from discussions of how flipping a single amide bond can control a host of downstream processes to how the length of limbs (and zebrafish fins in particular) and telomeres are controlled or functionally deciphered, with many stops in between. The cover also features some cells gearing up for an architectural career, so check it out!

My perception that this year is just completely getting away from me makes a nice parallel with thinking about how individual cells and brains and proteins measure time. I'm sure my feeling that it really should be, oh, May or so, is part of a cellular defense mechanism, because if we tried to store memories of what happened every day, our brains would quickly explode or just get full. However, it is a bit disconcerting to feel so out of whack with the continually advancing calendar. My solution? I'm hoping that we do develop Pensieves, and then I can store my memories in there, leaving room to keep the recent weeks and months in my brain. In that case, it'd be nice to look back once in a while and, as Paul Simon so eloquently said, see what's become of me.

Catherine (associate editor, Nature Chemical Biology)

Posted by Catherine Goodman at 12:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Are chemists anally retentive when it comes to chemical structures? Making sure that structures are error-free is certainly vital for a chemistry paper (and for an editor, one of the biggest headaches of the job). Just one wedge bond displayed as a hash could completely confuse the take-home message of a paper.

So imagine how annoying it would be if you saw a structure being repeatedly published with errors in it, and in lots of different places. This is just what has happened to Ian Fleming.

Back in 1967, he published a paper in Nature that finally nailed the absolute configuration of the structure of chlorophyll (Nature subscribers can see the paper here – it’s well worth a look). Yet he reckons that since then, whenever he has seen the structure reproduced, there is a 50:50 chance that the stereochemistry will be wrong.

Over the years, he’s tried to correct this where possible, including, on one occasion, an incorrect structure on a book cover. But it still happens. Out of curiosity, I had a look at the structure on Wikipedia - and sure enough, it was wrong (see for yourself, but be quick; I’ll contact them shortly to get it corrected). The actual structure can be found here at PubChem.

Who knows how often this happens? But then again, if a structure appears somewhere that isn’t necessarily directed at chemists (such as in the Wikipedia entry), does it really matter? Is it just the chemist’s equivalent of getting upset about the incorrect use of an apostrophe? I think it does matter - especially in sources on the web, which are increasingly being mined for technical information. But if you think I should just take a cold shower and calm down, by all means let me know.

Andy

Andrew Mitchinson (Associate editor, Nature).

Posted by amitchinson at 09:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

1. What made you want to be a chemist?

You have to blame my high school chemistry teachers. Chemistry and biology were the only two topics in high school that came naturally. Math, languages, etc., were always way too much work for me. Combine this with fun hands-on experiments and unexpected explosions during chemistry classes... what kid can ask for more?

I have to admit that my first 2-3 years as an undergrad in Germany nearly 'eliminated' any love towards chemistry. My professors were stuck 50 years in the past (science and age wise) and the lectures they gave were somewhere between boring to non-existent (one just has to love the German university system). I was very close to switching majors and decided that I would leave chemistry when I failed my first course. Only after the 'vordiplom' did things get interesting and I have to credit my first advisor, Helmut Ringsdorf, for bringing back my love for science.

2. If you weren't a chemist and could do any other job, what would it be - and why?

No question, I would be a music conductor. I love classical music, the one great passion (but for my family and friends) besides chemistry. The only times I can 'let go' of chemistry and not think of it is during an opera or symphony performance.

3. How can chemists best contribute to the world at large?

I do not want to repeat what all the other scientists below pointed out. Clearly, chemists have to make major (or the key) contributions to very important scientific problems and challenges in our society ranging from the environment to health. All of us work on scientific problems related to these challenges.

One issue we as scientists are not addressing (or at least not doing a good job at) is educating the general public about science. The lack of understanding of the basic principles of science of the general public including our societal 'leaders' (politicians, etc.) results directly into some very dangerous and problematic decisions (or the lack of decisions to address problems), i.e., we as scientists knew 20-30 years ago that carbon dioxide emissions are not good for the environment. However, we were not able to relate the importance of this to the general public and to our governments.

4. Which historical figure would you most like to have dinner with – and why?

That's a tough one. If it’s just me and one person, I would go for Mozart. This will be for sure an entertaining dinner.

5. When was the last time you did an experiment in the lab - and what was it?

To be honest, my last time doing an experiment in lab is some time ago, I guess approx. 6 years (my second year as an assistant professor). I still help group members out now and then, but do not have my 'own' project or run my own reactions. Most likely my group would kick me out (or leave the room) if I went back into the lab.

6. If exiled on a desert island, what one book and one CD would you take with you?

These are always the toughest questions. I think I would bring the 'Ring der Nibelungen' (can I take all 14 CDs instead of just one since they count as 'one opera cycle'?) from Richard Wagner (The poor animals on the island. They have to endure Wagner all the time. They might send me back to civilization). The book is tougher. I think I would either go with Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings or Gogol's Dead Souls.

Marcus Weck is in the Department of Chemistry at New York University and works on organic materials with emphases in supramolecular polymers, biomaterials, optical materials and catalysis.

Posted by Stuart Cantrill at 04:58 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

[Editor's note: another guest blogger has joined our team...]

Last summer, I took some time off before starting at my current position as a medicinal chemist at a large pharmaceutical company near Boston. I was out on the town (on a rather warm summer night) with my former Harvard comrades, one of whom had just successfully defended his Ph.D.

The topic of conversation naturally drifted towards everyone’s future intentions, and a familiar division became readily apparent – many of the younger graduate students intended to pursue careers in academia, while most of the older graduate students were considering other uses for a Ph.D. in chemistry. Upon hearing that my future job was in a pharmaceutical company, one of the younger graduate students exclaimed, “But you aren’t going to have control over your own research!” indicating that independence was of the utmost importance to her.

She was right: since the company pays my salary, the management decides which topics I spend my time on. But there is quite a bit of freedom in how I approach the problems they ask me to solve and there can be a great deal of creativity (and satisfaction) involved with the process. Is it any different in academia?

In my experience, not really. Most graduate students end up working on projects that their advisor is interested in, and their advisor often chooses to work on a topic that can he/she can obtain funding for (either from the government, industry, or non-profit groups). A small number of grants are “unrestricted,” but most grants are intended to be used on whatever the funding source deems particularly important. Everything works fine, until the day you have an idea that no one wants to fund. Most people get around this through a difficult compromise - they work on something that is close, but not exactly what they want to do, while a few brave souls set up labs in their garages with varying degrees of success.

Independence is a really good thing. Some amazing discoveries have come from qualified people or groups that were allowed to truly explore their own ideas, free of external bias or constraints. One clear example of the power of this concept exists in the context of popular music. During the 20th century there was an explosion of diverse musical genres that continues today. Many factors contributed to this process, but one of the most important was the fact that musical instruments and recording equipment gradually became cheaper while at the same time becoming more widely available. This made music accessible to anyone who had a desire to pick up an instrument and create music. Moreover, they could use their own recording equipment to communicate their ideas to interested parties. Today, with the advent of computers and digital recording, musicians can make home recordings of a rather high quality and easily share their songs on the internet. It is truly an exciting time to be a musician.

In terms of accessibility and expense, chemistry, and most modern sciences in general, are way behind music. A budding rock star can buy a $200 guitar at a local retailer and record songs at home, but when I think of chemistry, I think of $600,000 NMRs and $100,000 LCMS stacks installed in the hallowed halls of the worlds great schools. I consider myself extremely lucky to have access to such amazing equipment. But many scientists don’t.

While modern science is more technologically complex than music, I see no fundamental limitation to increasing the accessibility and reducing the cost of doing research. I think this is one of the great challenges facing science. Inexpensive scientific instruments would empower new scientists, give more independence to existing researchers, and lead to an increase in creativity in scientific research.

In my future columns for The Sceptical Chymist, I hope to look at chemistry and science in a new way – one that focuses more on breakthroughs in the efficiency, cost, and accessibility of the discipline rather than new pieces of expensive knowledge for assimilation. If the tools of science were made available to more people, perhaps they would be more frequently applied to problems of great interest to our society.

About the author: Jeff Johannes is a medicinal chemist at a major pharmaceutical company in the Boston area. He currently plays an Epiphone Les Paul named “Grimace.”

Posted by Joshua Finkelstein at 07:16 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

As they do every year, Thomson ISI have made their predictions about who will win this year's Nobel Prizes - chemistry included.

They seem to think that the Chemistry Prize will have an organic flavour this year... Do you think they're on to something? Will Trost, Danishefsky or Seebach be walking off with the big one any time soon - or indeed ever?

Another point of note is that Sumio Iijima is listed amongst the potential winners of the Physics Prize for his discovery of carbon nanotubes - this comes hot on the heels of being awarded the 2007 Balzan Prize for his nanoscience research.

Also, the one-million-dollar Kavli Prizes have recently been announced as well, the first batch of which will be given out in 2008. There are three of these, covering the fields of astrophysics, neuroscience and, last but not least, nanoscience - it could be quite a 12 months for Iijima.

Stuart

Stuart Cantrill (Associate Editor, Nature Nanotechnology)

Posted by Stuart Cantrill at 11:46 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Which chemical sends a shiver down your spine? Every chemist has their own personal least-favourite - in fact, I know some chemists that flatly refuse to use certain chemicals.

Much of this comes from personal experience – for example, I’ve seen two cases of diazonium salts blowing up, which was enough to put me off them. And I’m not keen on anything pyrophoric; one of my most stressful days in the lab involved 100 grams of diethyl zinc, which instantly ignites into bright blue flames upon contact with air.

Other compounds intimidate by reputation alone. Cyanide is a good example, although toxic chemicals never scared me much. I was surprised when an industrial student working for me didn’t want to use carbon monoxide, but this was because she’d heard tales of people dying after inhaling fumes from defective gas fires.

So what’s my all time worst fear? Hydrofluoric acid – the zombie flesh-eater of the chemical world. I only ever had to use this once, but without a doubt it was the experiment that brought me out in the coldest sweat. But with the recent news that the US Environmental Protection Agency are being presented with evidence that tetrahydrofuran may be carcinogenic (C&E News subscribers can click here for a brief report), perhaps the chemicals we should really be scared of are the solvents.

So what are your least-favourite reagents?

Andy

Andrew Mitchinson (Associate Editor, Nature)

Posted by amitchinson at 05:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBacks (0)

[Editor's note: another guest blogger has joined our team... this is Hubert, facing the challenges of a new professorship]

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Posted on behalf of Hubert:

For years, I went straight to a seat in the third or the fourth row in a seminar room because if I sat too far in the back, my imperfect eyesight caused me trouble, while the first one or two rows were usually reserved for the faculty members: Although there obviously aren’t assigned seats, professors do usually sit in the front of the audience, sort of like a first-/business-class arrangement in an airplane. To actually sit in a “business-class” seat as a brand new assistant professor along with my colleagues, including a number of National Academy of Sciences members, brought me a mixture of feelings, including a thrill of excitement, needless to say, and a lot of pressure: Now, even a boring seminar won’t be a good chance to doze off! You are under much closer watch by the seminar speaker, by the students and post-docs behind you, and of course by yourself. You have the feeling that you really need to learn more in order to match this higher expectation that everyone has of you. You are supposed to ask smart questions, to understand those “smart answers”, and maybe sometimes, give clever comments even when the topic is way over your head; in short, you are now supposed to walk on water in a seminar room (behold the rookie professor)! I guess this might be the price you have to pay in order to ride as a business-class passenger.

Posted by Catherine Goodman at 03:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted on behalf of Materials Girl:

Murphy’s Law, although highly applicable to the realm of chemistry, is demonstrated in all areas of life. Consider the [anticipated] tardiness of this post, attributed to my being away camping...

I had printed a stack of articles to study in relation to an upcoming post, much to the chagrin of my brother who protested his laser printer being in use for half an hour. However, being out in nature generally distracts one from reading about nature – “The Absorption of Water by Gelatin” would more accurately have been “The Absorption of Swamp by [my] Shoes”. That, however, is hardly an example of Murphy’s Law. The real irony was when people packed for the 110 degree Fahrenheit temperature at home, only to be met on the mountain with alternating heat and cold torrential rain. Fortunately, nature, Nature, and flash flood warnings are all exciting in their own way, so it wasn’t all that bad. Also, anything can remind me of chemistry, even something as trivial as pondering the dirt to water ratio in the various slurries of mud and grime covering the campsite. Once back in lab, I am likely to again start seeing things in terms of polarity, precipitates, and solvents...

The rain has begun in earnest again, and my pen is smudging over the notebook I am scribbling in. I shall type this up after getting home… Tell me your chemical stories involving Murphy’s Law, and perhaps how to avoid such occurrences – comments are wonderful.

Posted by Stuart Cantrill at 04:29 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted on behalf of Mushy:

The answer to this question is entirely dependent on the day you ask me, and the mood I'm in at the time. It's probably best to break the question down into what I liked about chemistry, and what I like about my current job.

As a chemist, I loved the act of finding out new stuff; of holding a vial full of some nondescript green powder, and knowing that nobody had ever had a vial of it in their hand in the whole of human existence. Even now, I find that thought exciting, and lament that it will never happen to me again. The problems thrown up by the subject needed so many different skills to solve that it was impossible to get bored. There were issues that needed to be addressed computationally, graphically, quantitatively, creatively, and methodically. I still don't know of any other pursuit so varied. The academic freedom was splendid, too. Sometimes, the joy of carrying out a task — not to carry out a specific function, but just because you're curious to see what happens — is something not experienced too often when there are shareholders to keep happy.

Working in software development, there's still plenty to enjoy. I work in a small, close-knit team with constant deadlines looming over us. All the time, we have to come up with cunning new plans in order to make our application work the way our users need it, making the most efficient use of man-hours and processor cycles. The pressure of constant, rolling deadlines is more than compensated by the pride in meeting them with the release of a lean, new version of the application. Whenever new specs arrive, we have to be creative yet analytical in order to plan how to deliver them. Being part of a development team, we have to constantly keep in mind new technologies to see if there's a cool new way of solving a previously insoluble problem.

You don't need to be too perceptive to notice that the reasons I like each occupation are pretty much the same in both cases. I suppose that's why the answer to my initial question — for today at least — is no, I don't miss being a chemist. That's because in many ways, I still am one.

Posted by Stuart Cantrill at 04:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

1. What made you want to be a chemist?

During my undergraduate years, while studying biotechnology, I became fascinated with the design concepts nature has devised for highly adaptive, functional structures. If these systems could be simplified and effectively incorporated into man-made systems, the possibilities for design of useful functional materials and devices appeared to be endless. Chemistry holds the key to all of this.

2. If you weren't a chemist and could do any other job, what would it be - and why?

I would most likely be an architect. The idea of building aesthetically pleasing and useful structures according to a pre-defined design appeals to me. In my laboratory we try to do the same thing, but on a much smaller scale.

3. How can chemists best contribute to the world at large?

This is a cliché, but the most urgent contributions are required in sustainable, renewable energy sources. It may one day be possible to make molecular devices that efficiently convert solar energy into fuels or electricity. However, I would anticipate that the major breakthroughs will be less obvious solutions that perhaps have not been thought of yet. Emergence of these ideas is, in my opinion, only limited by levels of available funding for basic and blue sky research in this area.

4. Which historical figure would you most like to have dinner with – and why?

If it were possible it would be Charles Darwin and Francis Crick, both at the same time, as I imagine them to be inspiring individuals. I would ask them for their thoughts on the limitations in complexity that evolutionary processes can ultimately achieve if pushed to the limit. Then sit back, listen and be inspired.

5. When was the last time you did an experiment in the lab - and what was it?

I have never been the keenest experimentalist and therefore gladly leave experimentation to my talented postdocs and graduate students. However, in the past four years I did conduct one experiment, which as about 4 months ago. This proof-of-concept experiment involved testing the use of aromatic short peptide derivatives to disperse carbon nanomaterials.

6. If exiled on a desert island, what one book and one CD would you take with you?

I would take the four volumes of "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" by Douglas Adams because it has been recommended to me by a number of people as a must-read. A colleague suggested that I have now been in the UK long enough to enjoy the more subtle humour in it! My taste in music is quite changeable so I would probably end up taking what-ever is in my car's CD player at the time.

Rein Ulijn is in the School of Materials and Manchester Interdisciplinary Biocentre (MIB) at the University of Manchester and works on the design of peptide based nanomaterials for biomedical and technological applications.

Posted by Stuart Cantrill at 05:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Just came across this quiz on nanotechnology...

I'll admit to scoring 16/20, which isn't too bad - not telling you which ones I got wrong, however.

[UPDATE: it was actually 17/20 (honestly, it was), even if you put the correct answer in for the grey goo question, you don't get the point...]

Have a go - some of the answers may surprise you!

Stuart

Stuart Cantrill (Associate Editor, Nature Nanotechnology)

Posted by Stuart Cantrill at 04:58 AM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

Nature's second chemistry podcast is now live!

Plug your iPod in and have a listen. In this issue we take a look at high-throughput screening; go on a literary detour thanks to Nobel prize winning chemist, and poet, Roald Hoffmann, and learn why chemists spend years mimicking Nature's methods to make molecules.

Posted by Katharine Sanderson at 11:44 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

One of our featured protocols this month is for the partial reduction of electron-deficient pyrroles under both Birch (Li/NH₃) and ammonia-free (Li/DBB) conditions using the formation of pyrrolines 2, 3 and 5 as examples (for reaction scheme click here). Pyrroles 2 and 5 have recently been published by Donohoe et al. as key intermediates in the of the biologically active natural products 1-epiaustraline, hyacinthacine A119and omuralide (also known as lactacystin -lactone).

Besides being an excellent protocol with beautiful photographs of reactions in progress, it is the first of our Nature Protocols to have associated with it two Network Protocols. These are for the preparation of the starting materials 1 and 4, namely the N-Boc pyrrole 2,5-methyl diester and the N-Boc pyrrole 2-ethyl ester.

Our Protocols Network has two components: protocols, such as these, that are uploaded by users (or suppliers); and comments that can be made both on the open access and the peer-reviewed content. If you would also like to participate, by uploading your favourite method or suggesting modifications to those that have already been published, you could follow the links from our homepage. A Guide to Authors for the Protocols Network also contains more information about this part of our content.

Bronwen (Nature Protocols)

References:
1. Donohoe, T.J. et al. Utility of the ammonia-free Birch reduction of electron-deficient pyrroles: total synthesis of the 20S proteasome inhibitor, clasto-lactacystin -lactone. Chem. Eur. J. 11, 4227–4238 (2005).
2. Donohoe, T.J. & Sintim, H.O. A concise total synthesis of ( )-1-epiaustraline. Org. Lett. 6, 2003–2006 (2004).
3. Donohoe, T.J., Sintim, H.O. & Hollinshead, J. A noncarbohydrate based approach to polyhydroxylated pyrrolidizines: total syntheses of the natural products hyacinthacine A1 and 1-epiaustraline. J. Org. Chem. 70, 7297–7304 (2005).
4. Donohoe, T.J., Sintim, H.O., Sisangia, L. & Harling, J.D. An efficient synthesis of lactacystin -lactone. Angew. Chem. Int. Ed. 43, 2293–2296 (2004).

Posted by Bronwen Dekker at 04:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)