Sunday, February 24, 2013

Why a black swan named Brooke Greenberg might make you immortal -- or not


Back in the old days, black swans used to take their tea with purple zebras, play hopscotch with orange kangaroos, and ride the unicorn skiff down the Cadbury-cream river with yellow porcupines.  That is to say, black swans didn’t exist.  At least Europeans were certain that they didn’t until a seventeenth century Dutch explorer actually discovered one on a trip to Australia.  It turns out that in the land down under, black swans are not only possible, they’re common.  So if you happen to see an inverted swan waddling by outside of your window, don’t panic.  First off, you're probably in Australia; and secondly, you've just seen a reminder of how a single unexpected observation can topple hundreds of years worth of dogma.

I first heard the story of black swans in a talk by the Chief Scientific Officer at TEVA Pharmaceuticals, Michael Hayden, a few months ago in Jerusalem.  Hayden’s topic was not actually swans, though, but rather drug discovery.  He summed up his philosophy on finding new drugs by saying that people who display rare physiological attributes, either beneficial or harmful, may be the key to our next blockbuster medicines.  He was referring to people who experience pain excessively and also people who don’t experience pain at all, who are extremely tall, who are resistant to deadly diseases like AIDS, or people who don’t age.  Hayden called these types of people black swans because, like their namesake, they exhibit traits that we never would have expected to exist.  That is, until the day we actually encountered people who have them.  

Perhaps the idea of developing drugs by studying black swans seems like no big deal to you.  Of course we discover new drugs by studying people with rare conditions, there’s nothing new about it, right?  The answer is somewhere between “sort of” and “no.”  Actually, new drugs are typically developed either by searching for molecules that can cause a beneficial-seeming effect in cells growing in a petri dish, or by testing large collections of drug-like molecules for their ability to target a protein that is thought to be important to a disease.  These approaches are problematic because they often lead to new drugs that are dangerous in humans, have major unintended effects, or simply don’t work.  Even a drug that perfectly targets a protein we think is important can be a failure, because targeting that protein in a human may lead to effects not encountered in the cells assayed.  It is because of such an unintended effect, for example, that the hypertension drug Sildenafil became the erection drug, Viagra.  

A black swan approach would be different.  The key to Hayden’s philosophy is that if we are able to identify the cause of a black swan trait and to perfectly target it with a new drug, then we already know what the side effects of the drug will be from the get-go.  The side effects, if there are any, should be readily apparent from observing the black swans after whom the drug was fashioned.  This idea isn’t just science fiction.  I mentioned before that there are certain otherwise healthy people who simply do not experience pain.  A black swan approach to developing a new pain medicine would involve identifying the mutated protein that causes this rare trait (if such can be found), and then developing a drug that makes this protein in normal people act like the mutated one. A well-targeted drug would have a very low chance of being harmful, because we already have examples of people who have this condition permanently, yet who display no seemingly adverse side effects.  In fact this example is real.  Drug makers are now developing a new class of highly effective, non-addictive painkillers based on this no-pain trait, which may soon be changing the lives of sufferers of chronic pain. 

There is another black swan named Brooke Greenberg, who may hold the secret to aging.  

Brooke enjoys being swung around in the air, playing with her sisters, crawling on the floor, giggling, and getting attention.  Do these activities seem strange for a twenty year old?  That’s because despite being twenty, Brooke stopped developing around the age of five, and still has the mentality and physical appearance of a toddler.  Her case has baffled doctor after doctor, and has led to stupefying interviews and media appearances by her family.  It’s too early to tell if Brooke Greenberg actually holds any keys to immortality, but it certainly appears that in some aspects of aging she has either stalled or has almost done so, which provides hope.  Taking a forever-young pill may be possible in the not-so-far future. 

The key then lies in being able to figure out what’s causing Brook’s condition.  If we can determine its cause, maybe we can develop drugs that can mimic it.  But the thing about black swan traits is that up until recently, we haven’t had a reliable way to figure out what was causing them.  We could do a battery of physiological tests, take blood samples, search for abnormal proteins or tissue functions, and write case studies, but these often just led to more head scratching or a long process of biological discovery, rather than a straightforward path to a cure.  

This whole process may be on the verge of an overhaul. 

In January, 2013, in an interview alongside Brooke’s family on the prime time show “Katie,” a geneticist at Mount Sinai Hospital named Eric Schadt explained that his group has sequenced Brooke’s genome, and is in the process of analyzing it for clues about aging.  

Until very recently, sequencing an individual’s genome would have been either impossible or prohibitively expensive.  Not so anymore.  A full human genome now can be sequenced with reasonable accuracy for something around 5 thousand dollars, down from 50 thousand dollars just in 2009, and hundreds of thousands or more just a few years before that.  This opens enormous new avenues for understanding black swans like Brooke Greenberg.  Many of the differences between her genome and a “normal” one will be readily apparent, and as more people’s genomes are sequenced as references, the differences will stand out more and more clearly.  Knowing these differences is the key to then developing cures.  

Of course, knowing what’s in the genome is only a part of the whole picture.  But, as Michael Hayden pointed out in his talk, there is a hidden advantage to the black swan approach over other drug discovery methods.  This is that when dealing with a black swan trait, we have a very good hunch before we even start drug development what a well-targeted drug would have as its side effects.  

The importance of knowing the side effects of a drug from the get-go cannot be overstated.  Developing drugs is almost inconceivably expensive -- in the neighborhood of four to eleven billion dollars per drug.  The majority of this cost is from the huge number of drugs that fail during clinical trials because they’re not safe, which in turn pump up the cost of the drugs that do make it.  Although it may not seem to matter how much drug companies pay to develop drugs, it matters hugely -- lowered cost could be a game changer, making drugs cheaper for consumers, and enabling drug companies to focus on many diseases that are not now on their radars because they simply aren’t cost effective.

Black swan-based drug discovery may be the ticket to reducing drug failures because of side effects, but black swans can sometimes portend some pretty serious side effects, too.  Brooke Greenberg is no exception.  First off, it may not be so simple to isolate Brooke’s anti-aging trait from fundamental and crippling developmental abnormalities, which have kept her not in the prime of her life, but as a toddler.  Secondly, Brooke has had a smorgasbord of medical complications, including stomach ulcers, seizures, a stroke, a brain tumor, and non-uniform tissue aging, which led to her esophagus closing and her needing to eat through a feeding tube.  These are discouraging.  Yet Brooke has also recovered from many of her complications astoundingly quickly, lest we forget that her body is harboring a great many secrets.  To some of these secrets, her genome sequence may yet reveal answers. 

Brooke Greenberg was born into an exciting age, in which a confluence of technology and knowledge has given a condition like hers a tremendous potential to help others.  It’s yet unclear if her condition will enable us to attack aging, but genome sequencing gives us a leg up on any other time in history, and we have reason for optimism.  Sequencing a person’s genome now costs on the order of Lasik eye surgery, and it’ll soon be much cheaper.  The possibilities are as numerous as the traits we can see in people around us.  We’ve really only just cracked open the doorway revealed by genomics, and the next leaps in medicine, in biology, in our very culture, may be incubating even now, somewhere, in the nest of a black swan.  

Monday, February 4, 2013

In Search of Proust's Way


“To admit you to the “little nucleus,” the “little group,” the “little clan” at the Verdurins’, one condition sufficed, but that one was indispensable: you must give tacit adherence to a Creed one of whose articles was that the young pianist whom Mme Verdurin had taken under her patronage that year and of whom she said “Really, it oughtn’t to be allowed, to play Wagner as well as that!” licked both Planté and Rubinstein hollow, and that Dr. Cottard was a more brilliant diagnostician than Potain.”

So begins part two of Swann’s way, the first one of the seven volumes of Marcel Proust’s masterpiece, In search of lost time.  Swann’s way was handed to me by my friend Hagai as he was packing his things several months ago to leave Israel.  “Take it,” he said.  “It’s a marvelous novel.  There are sections about nature, which are generally boring.  But the sections about society, relationships, and memory are exquisite.  I think you’ll find it worth your while.”  

Well it certainly was a while: it took me over two months to read.  But in sum, I also feel it was definitely worth it.  

Proust is notorious for being difficult, for being pretentious, and also, with his great novel often touted as the definitive masterpiece of modernist literature, for being one of the greatest writers in history.  In Search of Lost Time is the choice tome for many literati when asked the ‘what would you take to read if you were stuck on a desert island’ question.  But let’s discard these prejudices, because indeed when I approached Proust I didn’t really know what I was getting into.  All I had to go on was the recommendations of a close friend.

I finished Swann's way just this weekend, turning the last page with nostalgia almost as if I had relived a childhood.  As is true of the events of actual life, the most prominent feature of the earlier parts of the novel was not a collection of sharp instances or details, but rather a haze which is best defined by the emotions it has the power to conjure.  The book itself is, not surprisingly, Proustian (by this I refer to the principle of involuntary memory).  I couldn’t even recall the individual events of the novel which had conspired to generate this nostalgia in me, for many of them had been submerged into the atmosphere of the thing and were certainly not in themselves relevant.  Finishing it gave me the same longing and apprehension that one gets when approaching a life transition, or when saying adieu to a loved one.

But attaining this feeling came at a cost, for getting through the novel was, as it was promised to be… difficult.  

There are three sections to Scott Moncrieff’s translation of Swann’s way: Combray, Swann in Love, and Place-Names: The Name.  

Combray was the tough one.  There were vignettes in it that kept me happily reading, but those were interspersed between long slogs.  Comprising sometimes dozens of pages of florid description with no plot, the slogs were equally abstruse as they were slow.  The whole book is, in fact, written in long, periodic, convoluted sentences that use a vocabulary of the very highest English, all of which requires rather a lot of attention to follow.  (I’m strange in that I actually particularly liked this).  Proust is not to be read by the impatient or the attention deficit.  Despite all this, and because I glimpsed brilliance in certain segments of Combray, I never seriously considered putting the book down.  But I wasn’t sure if I would ever really get into it, or rather if the book would remain as merely a time-consuming curiosity in my life-history of reading.  

All of that changed with the sentence that I pasted at the top of this blog post.  Within pages of starting part two (Swann in Love), I was mesmerized.  A two month journey had gotten me through the 264 pages of Combray, but I swept through the 279 pages of Swann in Love in about 4 days.  Consider that the sentence at the start of this blog is neither more nor less complex than the average sentence in the Swann’s Way, and you will understand that I must have been very engaged to have done this.  

I thought then that Combray should simply be skipped, because it and Swann in Love don't really need each other.  However, I’m not so sure now.  The last, short section of the book, with the awful name Place-Names: The Name (which I’m guessing comes from a clunky translation of the French), evokes both Combray and Swann in Love and creates certain images which, without the context of Combray, would lack the lingering depth perhaps best characterized by feeling something just at the tip of your tongue, which you just can't quite put a name on.  I was impressed by the crafting of this emotion, and I realized that without Combray, the effect would have been thinner.

Combray focused on the narrator’s childhood, and, like childhood itself, was richer in impressions than in happenings.  The very fact that it was difficult, that it took a long time to get through, also played a role in its power.  The focus, like childhood’s, wasn’t on plot, but rather on an experience that is often characterized by its very lack of occurrences.  The book purposely slowed me down, and forced me into its own, drawn out pace.  Only because of that was I able to relish the ending, for I felt as if I had been on some sort of a journey by the time that I got there, with its slow and its faster bits, which is ultimately more similar to life than is any pulp or, indeed, the majority of the media of modern consumption.  

Proust is not an author who I feel will appeal all too easily to most modern readers, because, like the literature we have demanded and received, we order our emotions in digestible bites.  Proust couldn’t have cared less about word counts or succinctness, which sets him at odds with nearly all modern authors.  We live in a world now in which attention is one of the greatest currencies, and grabbing the attention of a consumer is so critical that most of the art about us is designed to first draw us in, and then, perhaps, to release its slower and subtler influences.  Without the marketing feature at the outset, these works would simply be ignored.  Who has the time to read something that doesn’t get right to the point?

But there is a value in not getting to the point, because life itself doesn’t get to the point, either.  Proust certainly could have managed to tell the same story in less or in simpler words, but I don’t believe he even would have wanted to.  If you are to appreciate this book’s merits, you are to surrender to Proust’s meanderings, and you are to trust him that these meanderings will be worthwhile.  If you don’t trust him, don’t start.  I believe that Proust wanted to capture the moments he described in his story as if they were emotional photographs, and to a large degree, difficult as it is, I believe he succeeded.

I have enough faith in Proust now that I'm ready to follow him through another 6 volumes.  The end of Swann's way leaves me feeling satisfied but as if the ground has been set for something far bigger.  Hopefully I can manage to get my hands on the rest of the set before I ever get stranded on some desert island…