There was probably no way for Deborah Blum to grow up as anything but a science writer. Her father, an exuberant entomologist, liked to bring his research home – “Check out this black widow. I’m going to keep its cage on the dining room table so we can watch it while we eat.” Her mother, a freelance writer, published a family newspaper and drafted her four daughters as staff reporters. “This seems to be a very whiny story about the black widow.”
She was born in Urbana, Illinois, on October 19, 1954. Both her parents were then students at the University of Illinois, but the family moved to Baton Rouge, Louisiana, when she was two, after her father took a job at Louisiana State University. The Blum girls – known as the four D’s (Deborah, Darcy, Dawn and Dana) kept snakes as pets, grew tadpoles into frogs, collected butterflies, and waded in neighborhood swamps where they lived in fear of crayfish climbing into their boots. “Can you write about something besides the way crayfish pinch?”
They followed their parents around the world on bug hunting adventures: Costa Rica (“Drop that wasp right now!) Puerto Rico, England, and Canada, where Deborah spent her afternoons working for her father by flying helium-filled balloons that carried chemicals designed to attract male bees. “Stop threatening to write stories about child slave labor.”
Despite this, she decided to become a scientist herself, and, in 1972, started college at Florida State University with a proposed chemistry major. She loved it – she still thinks chemistry is the most astonishingly beautiful science – but she did discover that a laboratory is no place for the absent-minded klutz. She decided to change majors the day she set her braid on fire in a Bunsen burner: “Do you smell smoke?” asked her lab instructor.
She transferred to the University of Georgia and graduated in 1976 with a major in journalism and a double minor in political science and anthropology. She worked for three newspapers – The Times, in Gainesville, Ga., The Macon (Ga.) Telegraph, and the St. Petersburg Times in Florida covering police and fires, courts, city government, and education. In, Florida she had one of those epiphany moments – she’d learned to love journalism but she wanted to write about science, how it worked, what made it fascinating. She quit her job and went to graduate school at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, studying science writing in the journalism school’s specialized reporting program. Her advisor, Clay Schoenfeld, urged her to study the history of science – “You can’t really understand what you write about if you don’t know its history.”
After graduating, Blum went to work as a science writer for McClatchy Newspapers in California, starting with The Fresno Bee and moving to The Sacramento Bee in 1984. She worked in Sacramento for 13 years, going to Alaska to cover glaciers, Hawaii to observe volcanoes, Pasadena to write about the triumphant arrival of Voyager 2 at Uranus, Houston to report on the tragic explosion of the space shuttle Challenger. She wrote about global climate change and ozone depletion, about nuclear weapons design and government secrecy, about biology of behavior. But her most influential work was a series on ethical issues in primate research, called The Monkey Wars, which won the 1992 Pulitzer Prize for beat reporting. “The one thing you already know,” she and other winners were told at the ceremony, “is the first line of your obit.”
The series became the starting point for a book, also called The Monkey Wars, published by Oxford University Press in 1994. By then, she’d learned to value the way a book allows a writer to delve deeper into complicated questions. She started work on a second book, an exploration of gender differences, called Sex on the Brain, published by Viking in 1997. That same year, she returned to the University of Wisconsin as a journalism professor. At her newspaper goodbye party, her editors said they couldn’t believe how many stories about “insects, chickens, and monkeys” she’d managed to get into the newspaper.
Since arriving in Madison, she has written for The New York Times,
The Wall Street Journal, The Los Angeles Times, Slate, Time, Scientific
American, Nature, and New Scientist, among other publications.
She has served as co-editor of a widely used guide to science journalism, A Field Guide for Science Writers, published by Oxford University Press in 1997 and 2006. She’s also earned an endowed chair at the University of Wisconsin and is now the Helen Firstbrook Franklin Professor of Journalism.
Maybe it was something about returning to the place where she had spent so many hours studying history of science, but Blum began working on books that used moments in history to explore the way that science works. She wanted to look at the way new ideas in science can change human culture. As a book reviewer noted in the Los Angeles Times, although her subjects may change, her writing focuses consistently on the often-tempestuous intersection between science and society.
The first such book, Love at Goon Park; Harry Harlow and the Science of Affection, was published by Perseus Books in 2002 and was a finalist for the Los Angeles Times Book Prize. The book is both the biography of a complex and driven psychologist – Harry F. Harlow – and the biography of an intellectual idea, the idea that love actually matters.
Her next, Ghost Hunters: William James and the Search for Scientific Proof of Life After Death, published in 2006, looked at a band of brilliant 19th century scientists who were willing to risk their careers to investigate the idea that the dead can communicate with the living.
Her latest book, the critically acclaimed The Poisoner's Handbook, was published in hardback in 2010 and was named one of the top 100 books of the year by Amazon. The following year it came out in paperback and promptly became a New York Times paperback best seller. The book follows two exceptionally determined scientists who, in the 1920s and 30s, sought to put an end to the golden age of poisoners. Deborah's fascination with the subject of chemistry, crime and culture continues in her blog, Elemental, part of the Wired science blog network
. She is currently working on a closely related book on the history of poisonous food.
Blum is married to a fellow writer, Peter Haugen, who shares her fascination with history and is, in fact, the author of World History for Dummies. They have two sons, Marcus, currently studying improv at Second City in Chicago, and Lucas, a freshman in college, who likes to write novels in his spare time. They also share their home with a rescue Labrador named Bongo and two ferrets named Willi and Smoky. Blum has no plans to give up writing about science but she occasionally threatens to cap her career by writing a memoir because she knows that story about her father and the 1000 mealworm cookies needs to be told.
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