Customer Reviews

Emperor of Scent

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In this absorbing book, Burr describes the fragrance industry and how scents are created and marketed, weaves a "scientific morality tale" of professional "corruption in the most mundane and systemic and virulent and sadly human sense of jealousy and calcified minds and vested interests," and attempts to explain and defend Luca Turin's novel theory of smell.

He succeeds with the first two goals. Readers will learn about the seven "Big Boys" (the companies that create virtually all new scents) and how their chemists and perfumers produce fragrance. Whether you enjoy this aspect of the book depends, perhaps, on your interest in fragrance itself; the workings of these businesses fascinated me, but the descriptions of various scents (as well as Turin's remarkably nondescript reviews from his "perfume guide") struck me as tedious. Burr also portrays scientists as plagued by self-interest and laziness and resistance to new ideas. This suggestion always surprises lay audiences, but it is hardly news to readers of Thomas Kuhn or of science writing in general. Galileo, Mendel, the early proponents of the Big Bang Theory, and many others encountered the same hostility or indifference faced by Turin.

The success of the third goal--detailing and defending Turin's olfactory research--is limited, however. On the one hand, Burr ably elucidates the prevailing theory--that we sense molecules by their shape--and raises the standard objections to this view. He then clearly presents Turin's theory: that smell results from molecular vibration (more specifically, from electron tunneling). Turin may ultimately be proven right, but Burr admits, "Though Turin has provided fascinating convincing preliminary evidence, there of course has to be independent confirmation by other labs before Vibration is accepted."

On the other hand, Burr's commentary on Turin's research suffers from several weaknesses. First, Turin (and Burr) tend to see everything in black and white. Turin is especially prone to hyperbole, noting several times that "Everyone can smell as well as everyone else." This is nonsense. Everyone has different base perceptions, and some people have deficiencies that affect their olfactory ability. Turin himself argues that smoking may actually enhance smell and admits that some people mistake the stench of urine with the aroma of honey--two scents many of us have never confused. In the same vein, Turin's opponents are portrayed as unwavering absolutists. Burr depicts the reception toward Turin's talk at a conference as hostile, yet none of the audience's questions, although challenging and skeptical, strike me as unreasonable or outrageous. (Instead, it is Turin who seems unnecessarily defensive and condescending.)

Second, Burr's book is entirely one-sided. He says, in a special author's note, that Turin's opponents refused to cooperate, but this argument is specious. Journalism is more than interviews. For example, even though "John Amoore had for years waged active war (via journal, Internet, and international conferences) against Vibration," Burr reprints not one word of this apparently awe-inspiring paper trail. Throughout, Burr transcribes page after page of Turin's gossip-filled, meandering conversations and e-mails exchanges, but he usually refers to the extensive scientific literature only when Turin supplies the reference.

Most seriously, Burr tends to report many of Turin's statements uncritically. For example, Turin claims he discovered that proteins conduct electrons and that he thereby created a diode out of protein. Has this discovery been confirmed? Are there papers on this topic? Have other scientists used this finding? If so, how? (The only evidence Burr offers: Turin got the diode patented. There are, of course, thousands of patents for unworkable devices.) Likewise, on at least four occasions, Turin denounces any link between smell and sex. Ever since the discovery of pheromones in silkworms fifty years ago, hundreds of scientists have explored the relationships between neurology and scent and sex. Turin dismisses them all, even though he appears to have done no research on the matter himself--and Burr never questions this unsubstantiated assertion.

Let's be clear: I'm not saying that Turin is wrong; rather, Burr comes across as Turin's publicist rather than a journalist who has confirmed Turin's statements, read the relevant articles, and tracked down the evidence. As a result, he probably won't convince researchers about the plausibility of Turin`s fascinating new theory. "The Emperor of Scent" raises a stink but never really clears the air.

"Start with the deepest mystery of smell" says author Chandler Burr in the opening stanza. "No one knows how we do it. Despite everything, despite the billions the secretive giant corporations of smell have riding on it and the powerful computers they throw at it, despite the most powerful sorcery of their legions of chemists and the years of toiling in the labs and all the famous neurowizardry aimed at mastering it, the exact way we smell things-anything, crushed raspberry and mint, the subway at West Fourteenth and Eighth, a newborn infant-remains a mystery".

In this gripping and entrancing book, Chandler Burr tackles the life story of Luca Turin, a man with an unusually sensitive nose,and a man obsessed by perfume and smell, a sense that commands a 20 billion dollar enthralling industry of flavour and odors. I was bowled over by Turin, at least the way Burr has described him; a brilliant, feisty, passionate, uniquely creative and completely non-conformist scientist trying to decipher a deep puzzle. Strangely, we still don't know how exactly we smell, and Turin set about to find out just how. Collecting together bits and pieces of biology, chemistry and physics, recent and past, he resurrected a fifty year old theory of smell in an astoundingly novel way. Burr also chronicles the intense interactions Turin had with other scientists, prima donnas in the field, big perfumery company scientists and executives, and the editors of the prestigious journal Nature. Turin was as much of a public person as a private one. In the end, Turin fails to convince most of them of the value of his theory, and ends up publishing his theory in a reasonably good but not blockbuster journal.

I was so impressed by this book that it became the basis for a graduate seminar on olfaction and perfume that I am going to give soon, and I have to really thank Burr for that. These days, I am engaged in thrusting bottles of chemicals under people's noses, and asking them to describe the smell. The book also introduced me to the dazzling and unique world of perfumery and smell in general, a bizzarely interesting mixture of art and science. The exotic sources for perfumery raw materials kept me glued to it and other perfumery books. Whether it was oudh, that lavish material that is obtained from rotten wood eaten by a fungus in Assam, or ambergris, the mesmerising ingredient originating in the stomach of a sperm whale, the world of perfumery abounds with facts which made me gravitate toward learning more. Most of these perfumery materials are fantastically expensive (typically costing more than their weight in gold) and hence the search for synthetic substitutes is an expedient one. Before I made a foray into this world, I was unaware of the fact that perfumers can smell perfume the way a music maestro or composer listens to a symphony. There are 'notes' in every perfume, and a good perfumer can literally dissect each note and characterize it when he smells a new creation. (For example, 'spicy', 'woody', 'minty' and 'green')

The book makes it clear that the perfumery industry is shrouded in secrecy, sophistication, and glamour. This very fact indicates that the creation of new smells is both an unpredictably creative process, and also a matter of trial and error. Because there is no 'objective' way to judge whether a perfume will be wildly popular or not, seductive advertising, big money, and big names are the name of the perfumery game. I remember, that when I got off on the Charles De Gaulle airport in Paris for a transit flight, the first thing I saw was Nicole Kidman's face staring at me from an enormous poster advertisement for Chanel 5., one of the most successful perfumes ever. Unlike the drug industry, where a drug succeeds if it succeeds, the appeal of perfumes is essentially created by the 'commodification of desire', as Noam Chomsky would probably call it! High society, penthouse cocktail parties, and extravaganza are the engines which fuel the perfumery industry. The perfumery capital of the world is surely Grasse in France. In fact, the French are totally obsessed with perfume. After defense and aerospace, it is their third largest money maker.

All this makes perfumery very much an art, and there is definitely a need for a convincing general scientific framework with which one could relate smell to the structure of molecules that constitute it. My uncle works as a perfumer in International Flavours and Fragrances, one of the biggest perfumery companies in the world, and this book served to enhance my appreciation and fascination of the state of affairs, as I recalled intriguing tidbits about smell and chemistry that my uncle has told me many times. Before Turin came on the scene, there was essentially a general paradigm of smell that drove studies in perfumery. It was a mixture of empirical chemistry and a hodgepodge of art and intuition. However, there were gaping cracks in this framework, and Turin decided to come up with a theory that could remedy this situation. Without going into the details, let me say that Turin's theory is very interesting and innovative, and promises possible new understanding in our study of smell. That the science/art of smell has come of age is indicated by the awarding of last year's Nobel Prize to two researchers who worked out the biology of olfaction.

The only possible flaw in this book, is that Burr does only too well in a sense. His eloquent description of many scientific concepts somewhats clouds the real truth behind them in a dazzling display of words and rhetoric. Things are not as simple as they seem, especially in science. So does his description of top scientists' reaction to Turin, and Turin's futile attempts to solicit interest from big perfumery companies. While it is true that the scientific peer review process that evaluated Turin's theory and finally dismissed it can sometimes be quite unforgiving, Burr makes Turin sound like the hero and all others (including last years' Nobel Laureates) as villains, who have come together in a conspiracy clique to prohibit others from overthrowing their pet ideas. That is rather unfair to them. The fact is that with all its flaws, the scientific review process has its merits and it's probably the best we have right now. Most importantly, not all of Turin's results sound as spectacular and unambiguous as Burr makes them sound, and Turin does not provide overwhelming evidence for them. In fact, some of his results are thought to be almost certainly false by a number of distinguished perfumers. When he first proposed his theory, many were convinced that he would win the Nobel the next year. However, as time revealed the overambitious essence of his ideas (no pun intended), people became much more skeptical. After all, Turin has proposed a theory, but perfumery is still very much an applied and empirical science/art, and is the basis for essentially a consumer industry that owes more to mystique and advertising than it does to hard science. Theories are of no use if they are not predictive and cannot make money for the big perfume giants. Most importantly, smell is SUBJECTIVE, and this is a point which keeps hitting home. Unlike the efficacy of a drug, there is no way to judge the character of a new smell. It may smell of mint to one person, sandalwood to the other. A related problem is that our sense of smell is bound by language, by the way we describe odors, and these descriptions turn out to be completely different for similar odors (even seasoned perfumers face this problem). This is a major barrier that has to be surmounted, if there is to be a satisfactory theory of smell. In this respect, Turin turned out to be too ambitious and tried to devise a general theory, without a proper method of evaluation and measurement. In a way, experiments still have to catch up with his theory. He still has a long way to go (not that the other ones are any more predictive; in this sense, Turin is on the same stage as the old stalwarts). Burr does not enumerate the drawbacks of Turin and his theories as well as he should have. Interestingly, the only serious scientific conference that Turin was invited to was a conference in Bangalore organised by the Tata Institute of Fundamental Research (Burr calls it 'India's Los Alamos'). There, he had lively discussions, especially with students in the rustic 'coffee board' cafeteria of the Indian Institute of Science, a place where I myself have lazed about many times (all the time?) when I spent a summer there.

The one feature of this book that stands apart is the spellbinding and exquisite language that Burr uses, quite worthy of its subject, who is a connoiseur in every sense of the word. Scientific facts and theories, tales of perfumes and their creators, the capricious world of perfume marketing, the artificiality and sophistry that inundates the high profile clientele of perfumes, and finally the man behind the book himself; all of these submit before Burr's flourishing descriptions and make engrossing reading. Burr is a master of rhetoric, and his style is very gripping; this is one of the best page-turners that I have come across.
The only thing that can possibly surpass Burr's language are Turin's own descriptions of perfumes and smells in the best selling perfume guide which he wrote. He has an uncanny ability to nail down the smell of anything in the most interesting and unanticipated words. I had never, ever thought that one could describe perfumes this way.
For example, consider this account of a perfume that he wrote:

Feu d'Issey (Issey Miyake)
"The surprise of Feu d'Issey is total: smelling it is like a frantic videoclip of objects that fly past at warp speed: fresh baguette, lime peel, clean wet linen, shower soap, hot stone, salty skin, even a fleeting touch of vitamin B pills. Whoever created this has that rarest of qualities in perfumery, a sense of humour. A reminder that perfume is, among other things, the most portable form of intelligence."

Or this one:

Vetiver (Guerlain)
"One of the rare perfumes so named that do not betray the character of this uncompromising raw material, Vetiver is a temperament as much as it is a perfume, above all when it is worn by a woman. Stoic and discreet, Vetiver scorns all luxury save that of its own proud solitude. At the same time distant and perfectly clear, it must be worn muted and must never allow itself to be sensed except at the instant of a kiss."

Not surprisingly, this book became quite controversial. Scientists and journal editors alike were miffed because of the bad light that it cast some of the big names in smell research in. A group from Rockefeller University published experiments in the well-known journal Nature Neuroscience, that did not support Turin's theory. But they were bound as well by the problem of objectively evaluating smell, and so even their experiments are certainly not the final say on the matter. However, all this backlash is actually a tribute to Burr, who could make his book so attractive and compellingly convincing, that even scientific journal editors needed to take note and criticize it (a rare event indeed for a popular scientific book).

My advice; read the book and enjoy it. It could be a fantastic read. However, don't take Burr's words too seriously and literally. Science is a harsh world, and rhetoric cannot undermine the rough scrutiny that any theory undergoes. One thing is for sure; Turin will be remembered, whether his theory survives or not. It is clear that even if he had not invented his smell theory, he would have still been a very interesting character for a profile. If his theory can be used in a fruitful way, it will be a great and enduring one. If not, at least he should be thanked for inspiring a wonderfully written book. For me, both ways it would be a reward, since the book and Luca Turin introduced me to a new and fascinating world.

As a former denizen of the NIH, I concur with most of the suggestions about how institutions protect the accepted and reflexively reject anything too different. As a former scientist, Turin's arguments made great sense to me and were fully creditable. As a student of Everett M. Rogers Diffusions of Innovations, I can readily believe that Turin falls directly into the Innovator group and will out of hand be rejected by even his closest friends.

All of that said, this is an excellent book , well worth reading, not only for the fascinating theory of scent, but also about the lethargy with which the scientific community accepts radically new ideas (or rejects them).

For any one who has been at the NIH or a major university this book will remind them of the politics and the pettiness of these great institutions. I loved my 4.5 years at the NIH for the extraordinarily brilliant people there. Nonetheless, I was constantly amazed at the puerile behavior of some of those geniuses.

I've dabbled for years with essential oils and always was at a loss to describe their effects and sensations. The man that the book is telling us about is a true Victorian polymath: a multifaceted scientist, an effete snob, an accurate, passionate descriptive writer of the senses.
I laughed out loud dozens of times, was driven mad with desire to smell some of these substances and perfumes, was angered by the intransigence of the scientific community.
This is just a great and fascinating read, gliding effortlessly between topics with great irony and clarity.

This may be the best popular scientific book ever written.
The writing style flows from beginning to end without a single misjudged word or phrase. It seems much more like a thriller than
a story of intellectual discovery. As the reader is drawn along by the narrative, key technical concepts are absorbed almost by osmosis.
This is cutting edge science presented so clearly that it seems self-evident, even though it involves advanced concepts in physics, chemistry, and biology.
Luca Turin is the ideal subject, a man who would be fascinating even if he didn't produce revolutionary science. The reader ends the book waiting for the scientific community to wake up and
FedEx his Nobel Prize without delay.
The highest praise to Chandler Burr for giving us an unforgettable portrait of Luca Turin and his pursuit of the mystery of smell. It seems unlikely that anyone will pick up this book without eagerly devouring it and wishing that every book on science could be half this good.

Chandler Burr has created a riveting portrait of an astonishing man, Luca Turin, and his quest to unravel the mystery of olfaction. Burr's descriptions of Turin's work are seamless, and the reader is left with triumph and indignation at the refusal to consider Turin's theory by the scientific community. The book reminds me of McPhee at his best, ferreting into the joy of a magnificent obsession with infectious enthusiasm. The asides on the industry and nature of scent are fascinating, and the reviews of perfumes by Luca Turin make one wish for samples to be part of the book! A thrilling read!!

The Emperor of Scent is a scientific page turner and five-star read that details the development of a new theory of the sense of smell by Luca Turin, an Italian-born, French raised biologist/physiologist at University College, London.

Turin is a Renaissance man with competencies in physiology, biology, chemistry, and physics and a life-long fascination with scents and the sense of smell. Among his accomplishments are the development of a comprehensive guide to perfumes, of which he is a connoisseur. He is also passionate about opera and knowledgeable about wines. Unfortunately, Turin's considerable talents do not include the management of academic politics and the ability to humor slower mortals.

The Emperor of Scent follows Turin's revival of a previously discredited theory of how the nose processes smell, and his herculean efforts to publish the results of his research. Despite (or perhaps because of) the fact that Turin's research could potentially revolutionize the science of smell and the development of commercial fragrances, he encounters stunning difficulties in publishing his results and gaining the attention of the scientific community. The novelty of Turin's theory presents one barrier to acceptance. Additional barriers are created by Turin's reputation (partially justified) as a difficult, eccentric and renegade scientist, as well as by the fact that his theory embraces aspects of biology, chemistry and physics, which discomforts scientists who have difficulties in bridging diverse disciplines. In combination, these conditions dissuade the scientific community from considering Turin's work seriously.

The Emperor of Scent is a fascinating read. It is not a balanced journalistic account-- according to the author, Turin's theory is so unnerving to the scientific establishment that Turin's opponents almost uniformly refuse to read and comment upon his work. The book therefore focuses on Turin's rejection by the scientific community, and in so doing offers a briiliant case study of closed-mindedness in the dissemination of ideas. This outcome is unfortunate, because Turin's theory (at least to this non-scientist) seems highly credible. The refusal to consider Turin's theory is also a fascinating cautionary tale of how readily established elites reject innovators-- particularly unpedigreed, outspoken innovators like Luca Turin. The Emperor of Scent explores these themes brilliantly.

Yet another reason to read and enjoy The Emperor of Scent is to make the acquaintance of Luca Turin, a scientific ground-breaker in the tradition of Galileo or Copernicus. Turin's forays into the perfume industry and his eccentric lifestyle also make for fascinating reading.

Highly recommended-- a five star read. One quibble: The Emperor of Scent does not portray the ending to Turin's saga very clearly. At book's end, he has turned his research interests to other areas and earlier allusions in the book indicate that he has lost his post at University College London. But the concluding chapter of the book is sketchy and unsatisfying at best, and leaves Turin's fate unclear. Which led me to research Turin's whereabouts on the Internet. Inquiring readers will be pleased to learn that he is now using his theory to develop new fragrances for a new U.S. venture based in northern Virginia. Let's hope that this is a happy and lucrative outcome for a multi-talented man whose ideas are ahead of their time.

This book is very engrossing, and I will not repeat the praise many other readers have posted here. Instead, I will respond to some reviewers who criticize Luca Turin's theory based on his not having performed certain kinds of experiments, or criticize the author's failure to go into the science in more detail. To the contrary, the book's main point is very well supported: Turin has developed a coherent theory of smell and has backed it up with enough data that other scientists, instead of simply shouting him down, should instead have conducted any experiments they claim he should have done. The book shows that Turin has done enough to now put the burden on other scientists, who are more established, better-funded, and better equipped with labs etc., to do more than simply claim Turin left gaps, and then sit on their hands. The point is that science should not be about sitting in judgment on whether a particular scientist should be rated high or low; it should be about the development of promising theories regardless of the names attached to them. The book shows that the praise-and-prestige game of modern science impedes scientific progress. Other books that tell the same kind of story of scientific supression motivated by clinging to prestige are "The Rejection of Continental Drift" and "Plate Tectonics," both by Naomi Oreskes. The behavior of the opponents of continental drift (who lost, obviously) is uncannily similar to the behavior of those who oppose Turin's smell theory.

The Emperor of Scent is a fascinating, fun to read account of a man out on the scientific fringe. Chandler Burr, tells the story of Luco Turin, PhD in biology and a self described "Bio-physicist" who has been practically obsessed with smell all his life. Turin is clearly an expert when it comes to using his nose to decipher the mysteries of perfume. A book he authored on the subject has gained him access to the inner sanctum of the scent industry.

In the course of his scientific and non scientific dabbling, Turin becomes interested in the theory of smell. The mainstream theory is that smell is based upon the shapes of molecules. But there are several problems with this theory, and as is sometimes the case, the scientific establishment refuses to deal with these problems rationally as too much is invested in the current theory. Turin resurrects an old theory. That smell is based upon how a molecules vibrate. This theory was considered preposterous in the past because the mechanism to measure this vibration seems too complex to be done biologically. Turin tackles this by proposing a plausible biological mechanism for tunneling electron microscopy or spectroscopy. He even finds some supporting evidence for this mechanism in scientific literature. Next Turin sets out to do some experimentation to provide evidence to support his theory. In physics there are theoreticians and experimentalists, In biology theory and experiment are the realm of the same individual or team. Turin seems to be a better theorist than an experimentalist. As it turns out biologists don't understand math very well. (fear of math may have been a reason for choosing that field) and Turin's theory is full of math. On the other hand physicists don't understand biology. Turin is caught in the middle. And no one wants to take him seriously.

The Emperor of Scent spends many pages recounting Turin's attempts to be taken seriously. But he is an outsider who wants to upset the apple cart with a new theory only a multidisciplinary scientist such as he can really understand. He has little supporting evidence and is too impatient to spend years in a lab gathering the evidence he needs to support his theory. Instead he keeps leaping for the brass ring.

While Chandler Burr is not very objective in his account he does tell an interesting story. This is not a scientific work, but a work of journalism. Burr's ultimate purpose may be to promote Turin's theory, but he also does a fine expose' of the scientific establishment at its' best. He also does a great job of introducing us to Luco Turin. A man out of the mold of Richard Feynman. Fun loving, entertaining, intense and monomaniacal at times.

The Emperor of Scent is interesting on many levels. I learned a lot about smell, smells, and the fragrance industry. I also enjoyed the story of how a ball coming in from left field is handled by the scientific establishment. A very human story.

I could not put down this wonderful blend of perfumer profile, olfactory chemistry and scent history. As a perfume junkie, I've been long fascinated by the complexity and evocativeness of scents and amazed by the trends in the industry--or should is say "art?" This book is packed with terrific anecdotes of quirky perfume collectors, histories of great scents and lucid explanations of the still-mysterious process of olfaction. Burr's writing is crisp, zesty and amazingly clear. A little high school chemistry would help any reader with the more technical sequences of the book, but scientific expertise is not needed to enjoy the human angle of this unique book. I highly recommend it!