Is There a Story in Science?

Science was my day job. I wondered: could one write a story in science—beyond academic papers or professional journalism (or sci-fi)? And could I flavour that story with the Good News?

I spent 34 years in the research hothouse of a multi-national, an oft-scorned pharmaceutical giant. Initially, writing was my escape. A fantasy epic came, then lighter novels, written on an Amstrad notepad, 14 minutes at a time—until faster trains cut my commute to twelve minutes! I began writing non-fiction—outside science. Yet still my question niggled.

In 1979, we set up a Christian Fellowship within our laboratories. For well over 30 years, a varying group met and prayed weekly for our company, its leadership, decisions, staff, discoveries and—most of all—its customers. Lord—like Nehemiah, we ask—remember us with favour.

I joined the search for medicines to treat cancer, then arthritis; and for new antibiotics. Then my wife developed breast cancer when we had three children below teen age; she was treated successfully using a drug created decades earlier—in my own lab! Life was becoming my story. I moved back into cancer research and was humbled afresh, recalling that millions pray for that work.

My company changed its name, twice. Memorably? No. Recently, a senior PR manager told me that when she took up post her friends all said to her, ‘Working for who?’

I wrote about how many features of chemical synthesis—the mere doing of science—parallel spiritual transformation and purification. (Later, my chapter on ‘Scientific Error’ was posted on a Christians in Science blog.) Retiring in 2012, I self-published my novels.

Yet my dream of a true science story faded—until a ‘chance’ conversation. My company wanted its story in print. ‘And we have a legacy budget! Would you…?’ I could write the science, the people, centuries of history. A coffee-table book with unlimited colour. Publication and customers guaranteed. Yes! But ouch! How to grasp, let alone explain, sixty years of world-class research, from wartime penicillin to the latest lung cancer drug? (I worked on the latter—but on the front line, not in campaign headquarters.) Nervously, I labelled myself a mere beachcomber, one who picked up and displayed attractive things fallen from great enterprises floated by the great.

The story of science began to inflame my keyboard, when I found myself interviewing some grand old scientists about their memories. One man was the first to read the test result that led to atenolol becoming a global heart medicine. Another objected at the crunch meeting in 1973 when tamoxifen, later the gold standard in breast cancer treatment, was almost abandoned. By such slim margins… At Carnegie Publishing in 2016, Anna and Lucy helped me publish the first authorised insider story of a dozen historic medicinal adventures.

And that Good News flavour? Work gains respect and permits a hearing. Finishing, I named my faith; and noted that Jesus, like me, had worked with His hands at a bench; and I recalled our Fellowship’s decades of prayer for the company. At least two readers were thrilled to learn from my ‘About the Author’ that a committed Christian had written ‘their’ book.

Incidentally, that PR manager no longer puzzles her friends! Recently, my company hit the news by partnering academia in a startlingly philanthropic project—for such a corporate beast. The product ain’t perfect; yet it has reached 170 countries and—being sold at cost—has blessed the poor. (Richer nations bought alternative products, which generate huge profits.) Lord Jesus, thank You for answering our prayers for my company with that odd name: AstraZeneca….

George B. Hill