In "The Seven Daughters of Eve," Bryan Sykes broadens the view ofhuman evolution, tracing migrations through time and around the globe. His descriptions of thediscovery and his defense of the paradigm shift of using mitochondrial DNA in anthropology are clearand easy to understand.
The heart of the book is the fictionalized reconstruction of the lives ofthe seven European "clan mothers" discovered by mitochondrial DNA analysis. Mr. Sykes weaves storiesof the day-to-day struggle for survival of women at different points in human history. The storiesare evocative, and connected me with the actual women more than simply reading "25,000 B.C." wouldhave done. I enjoyed the stories very much. I only wish that Mr. Sykes had footnoted which of theobjects mentioned in the stories had actually been found by archaeologists.
I loved Mr. Sykes' useof the word "feminine" to describe the traits that have nurtured and supported human survival. Thisbook is an antidote to superficial definitions of femininity.
I would recommend this book toanyone with an interest in human evolution. I would especially recommend the book to women who wantto feel a closer connection with their fore-mothers.
Because of this, I amconcerned (hopefully others are as well!) about the blatant money-making venture set up by theauthor to coincide with this book. It is advertised on the jacket of the book--his website sells,for a hefty price, the ability to have your own Mitochondrial DNA traced to one of the SevenDaughters mentioned in the book (or other daughters he has discovered in the course of hisresearch). Readers are also given a chance to donate their DNA to his research project for the samehefty price.
What concerns me is that in his book, he displays a careless regard for his promiseof anonymity to those donating DNA. He describes in the very first few pages how he cross-checkedhis database (despite the separation of information for the explicit purpose of maintaininganonymity) in order to identify a donor after requests came to him from the media. (He does say hegot her permission before disclosing her name to them--but hey, what about her permission beforetrying to identify her after a promise of anonymity?) That little anecdote at the beginning of thebook shocked me with its lack of regard for his promise and soured me on any trust I might havebuilt up for sending my own DNA to him. I was especially creeped out by the marketing/financialfocus of his website,which is advertised on his book's cover.
In addition, I could find no"informed consent" form anywhere on his website for readers who are contemplating sending in theirown DNA for either his service or for donation to his research project. The order form I receivedfrom him in the mail contained no such form either. This amazes me since I had to read and sign aninformed consent form before my friend, who was working on a Ph.D in Social Work, could interview meabout my past life experiences. This was just in case my memories might cause me psychological pain.But the author has no informed consent form even though he states that one of his services canreveal brothers not to be fathered by the same man, as they may have thought. And his websitepromises anonymity to those who donate DNA but his book reveals that he is willing to cross check tothwart that anonymity. And no where does he say who owns the DNA once it is donated or that he willmake money from it, directly or indirectly, even as he uses it in a research project. All of thisstrikes me as way too lax for a research project involving humans and a substance (DNA) at thecenter of attention on ethics issues.
This all went toward diminishing for me the author'scredibility and the book's impact, which was a big disappointment considering how long I have waitedfor just this type of analysis. I wish that important information such as this had not been soflippantly made vulnerable to worries of lax ethics in its procurement and maintenance.