Despite the odd blink, a searching look at the borders between science and society.
A case study of a public health campaign that attempted to control a debilitating disease, with only partially successful results—sound familiar?
The title is a literal translation of the hookworm’s scientific name Necator americanus, but the lurid details don’t stop there as Jarrow goes on to expand her 2003 title Hookworms with accounts of the creepy creature’s life cycle and the discovery of just how disturbingly prevalent “America’s bloodsucking murderer” was in the South in the 19th and early 20th centuries. She chronicles canny efforts, which began in 1909 as an initiative of the Rockefeller Sanitary Commission, first to galvanize those who were afflicted with hookworms to accept treatment and then to educate them about the necessity of proper human waste disposal to prevent reinfection—attempts that were initially met with skepticism. With portraits of prominent researchers and images of the toothy terror mixed in, the illustrations also include period photos of victims, many with symptomatically wasted bodies and bulging eyes. These last give powerful visual dimension to the story, but sharper viewers will notice that images of White individuals predominate. Though the author acknowledges the reality of segregation and discrimination—including the assumption that African Americans were not as susceptible to hookworm—she does not fully unpack the issue, implied by the illustrations, that the campaign leaned more toward White populations. Still, if reading that the infection rate dropped from an estimated 37% overall to 11% by 1940 may look like failure to readers expecting another tidy wipeout like the (supposed) eradication of smallpox, that’s many thousands of lives saved or improved. And if today, in many parts of the world, as she claims at the end, “the worms are winning,” here at least is a partial victory to celebrate.
Despite the odd blink, a searching look at the borders between science and society. (timeline, glossary, websites, author’s note, source notes, bibliography, index) (Nonfiction. 11-15)Pub Date: Sept. 27, 2022
ISBN: 978-1-68437-815-9
Page Count: 160
Publisher: Calkins Creek/Astra Books for Young Readers
Review Posted Online: July 12, 2022
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 1, 2022
Wordplay and wry wit put extra fun into a trove of fundamental knowledge.
With an amped-up sense of wonder, the Science Guy surveys the natural universe.
Starting from first principles like the scientific method, Nye and his co-author marvel at the “Amazing Machine” that is the human body then go on to talk up animals, plants, evolution, physics and chemistry, the quantum realm, geophysics, and climate change. They next venture out into the solar system and beyond. Along with tallying select aspects and discoveries in each chapter, the authors gather up “Massively Important” central concepts, send shoutouts to underrecognized women scientists like oceanographer Marie Tharp, and slip in directions for homespun experiments and demonstrations. They also challenge readers to ponder still-unsolved scientific posers and intersperse rousing quotes from working scientists about how exciting and wide open their respective fields are. If a few of those fields, like the fungal kingdom, get short shrift (one spare paragraph notwithstanding), readers are urged often enough to go look things up for themselves to kindle a compensatory habit. Aside from posed photos of Nye and a few more of children (mostly presenting as White) doing science-y things, the full-color graphic and photographic images not only reflect the overall “get this!” tone but consistently enrich the flow of facts and reflections. “Our universe is a strange and surprising place,” Nye writes. “Stay curious.” Words to live by.
Wordplay and wry wit put extra fun into a trove of fundamental knowledge. (contributors, art credits, selected bibliography, index) (Nonfiction. 11-15)Pub Date: Oct. 27, 2020
ISBN: 978-1-4197-4676-5
Page Count: 264
Publisher: Abrams
Review Posted Online: Aug. 24, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 2020
BOOK REVIEW
If Freedman wrote the history textbooks, we would have many more historians. Beginning with an engrossing description of the Boston Tea Party in 1773, he brings the reader the lives of the American colonists and the events leading up to the break with England. The narrative approach to history reads like a good story, yet Freedman tucks in the data that give depth to it. The inclusion of all the people who lived during those times and the roles they played, whether small or large are acknowledged with dignity. The story moves backwards from the Boston Tea Party to the beginning of the European settlement of what they called the New World, and then proceeds chronologically to the signing of the Declaration. “Your Rights and Mine” traces the influence of the document from its inception to the present ending with Martin Luther King and the Civil Rights movement of the 1960s. The full text of the Declaration and a reproduction of the original are included. A chronology of events and an index are helpful to the young researcher. Another interesting feature is “Visiting the Declaration of Independence.” It contains a short review of what happened to the document in the years after it was written, a useful Web site, and a description of how it is displayed and protected today at the National Archives building in Washington, D.C. Illustrations from the period add interest and detail. An excellent addition to the American history collection and an engrossing read. (Nonfiction. 9-13)
Pub Date: Oct. 1, 2000
ISBN: 0-8234-1448-5
Page Count: 112
Publisher: Holiday House
Review Posted Online: June 24, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 1, 2000
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