Dear Professor Taub,
Greetings on this, the third occasion when you have made a gift of my biography, Rosalind Franklin: Dark lady of DNA, to your daughter. I am very flattered. However, I feel the time has come for me to inform you that the story of my groundbreaking x-ray crystallography, while it contributed invaluably to the discovery of the double helix, will never inspire your daughter to become a chemistry professor.
I certainly agree that any young woman ought to be inspired by my passionate pursuit of knowledge and my pioneering work. But nevertheless I feel confident she will not follow in my footsteps to a career in chemistry for any number of reasons. To wit:
1. Your daughter almost failed high school chemistry.
2. College too.
3. Have you read my biography? I mean right to the end? Because at the end, I die horribly. The x-ray equipment I used for my research caused me to develop ovarian cancer, and at the age of 37, I died. Painfully. In obscurity. Because of my research. Science gave me cancer. Do you also want your daughter to find a boyfriend? Maybe you should give her a book about Sid and Nancy.
4. On a related note, when your daughter told you she found me “inspirational,” she mostly meant I had inspired her not to walk in front of streams of powerful gamma radiation.
I’m sorry to break the news to you, Dr. Taub, but your daughter will never be a Nobel Prize-worthy chemist. The time has come to acknowledge defeat, to allow your daughter to enjoy her happy intellectual incuriosity, and (if you must) to purchase a copy of Rosalind Franklin: Dark lady of DNA for her younger sister, who occasionally showed interest in home chemistry experiments. Your older daughter, as you’ll recall, only liked the vinegar-and-baking-soda explosions.
Sincerely,
Dr. Rosalind Franklin
An Open Letter from Rosalind Franklin (1920-1958), Cambridge Chemist and Unsung Hero of the Discovery of DNA, to my Dad
Dear Professor Taub,
Greetings on this, the third occasion when you have made a gift of my biography, Rosalind Franklin: Dark lady of DNA, to your daughter. I am very flattered. However, I feel the time has come for me to inform you that the story of my groundbreaking x-ray crystallography, while it contributed invaluably to the discovery of the double helix, will never inspire your daughter to become a chemistry professor.
I certainly agree that any young woman ought to be inspired by my passionate pursuit of knowledge and my pioneering work. But nevertheless I feel confident she will not follow in my footsteps to a career in chemistry for any number of reasons. To wit:
1. Your daughter almost failed high school chemistry.
2. College too.
3. Have you read my biography? I mean right to the end? Because at the end, I die horribly. The x-ray equipment I used for my research caused me to develop ovarian cancer, and at the age of 37, I died. Painfully. In obscurity. Because of my research. Science gave me cancer. Do you also want your daughter to find a boyfriend? Maybe you should give her a book about Sid and Nancy.
4. On a related note, when your daughter told you she found me “inspirational,” she mostly meant I had inspired her not to walk in front of streams of powerful gamma radiation.
I’m sorry to break the news to you, Dr. Taub, but your daughter will never be a Nobel Prize-worthy chemist. The time has come to acknowledge defeat, to allow your daughter to enjoy her happy intellectual incuriosity, and (if you must) to purchase a copy of Rosalind Franklin: Dark lady of DNA for her younger sister, who occasionally showed interest in home chemistry experiments. Your older daughter, as you’ll recall, only liked the vinegar-and-baking-soda explosions.
Sincerely,
Dr. Rosalind Franklin