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Para-dimethylaminobenzaldehyde
Jan. 2nd, 2026 11:06 amToday is the anniversary of the birth of Isaac Asimov. I think he was born in 1920, so he'd be 106 if he were still with us; in fact, he died rather younger than he really should have done, because he was one of the few unfortunate people who got HIV/AIDS from a blood transfusion. (They are a great deal more careful these days. In this country, at least, you're not even allowed to give blood now if you've ever had a blood transfusion yourself, to avoid the risk of passing on anything like that at third hand.)
I first ran across Asimov in my teens. I got a school prize of some sort and it included a book token, so I went off to my favourite bookshop, where I spotted a bright yellow paperback called Nightfall 2 in the SF section. It turned out to be a collection of short stories, and I didn't have too many of those at the time, so I bought it because I thought it would be perfect for reading in odd moments. Then, when I got it home, I sat down to read the first story, and ended up reading the entire book.
It was one of the best things I'd read in quite a while, so naturally I wanted to read more by this author. I eventually bought the original Nightfall collection (it took a while for the shop to get it in); in the meantime I read I, Robot and all the other Asimov SF I could get my hands on. And after a while, I discovered he didn't just write SF. I came across Asimov's Guide to Science, and I decided that if it was anything like as well written as his SF, it was going to be good. It really was; he was an exceptionally clear writer.
There was more. In fact, there was much more. Asimov had the unusual, and indeed I think still unique, distinction of having published at least one book in every one of the ten major areas of the Dewey classification system. I read as many as I could find, but I never found them all; and I enjoyed everything I did find, from the works on popular science to Asimov's Bumper Joke Book (no, seriously - I can't recall if that was the exact title, but he did indeed write a joke book and I do still tell some of the jokes that were in it). And, very much like me, he enjoyed livening his writing up with an anecdote now and again, hence the title of this post.
At one point in his long and varied career, Asimov had occasion to use a chemical with the rather jaw-cracking name of para-dimethylaminobenzaldehyde, and so he went into the lab storeroom to get some. And the person in charge of this storeroom said cheerfully, "Oh - para-dimethylaminobenzaldehyde? Do you know you can sing that to the tune of The Irish Washerwoman?"
Asimov was immediately, and severely, earwormed, to the point where he found it difficult to stop singing the name of this wretched chemical repeatedly under his breath. A little later, he had to go to an editor's office about a story he'd written, and while he was waiting to see the editor he found himself singing "para-dimethylaminobenzaldehyde, para-dimethylaminobenzaldehyde..." softly to himself.
"Oh my," said the receptionist. "You know it in the original Gaelic!"
Asimov wrote: "What could I do? I smiled modestly and had her introduce me as Isaac O'Asimov."
I'm still chuckling. Thank you, Doctor!
I first ran across Asimov in my teens. I got a school prize of some sort and it included a book token, so I went off to my favourite bookshop, where I spotted a bright yellow paperback called Nightfall 2 in the SF section. It turned out to be a collection of short stories, and I didn't have too many of those at the time, so I bought it because I thought it would be perfect for reading in odd moments. Then, when I got it home, I sat down to read the first story, and ended up reading the entire book.
It was one of the best things I'd read in quite a while, so naturally I wanted to read more by this author. I eventually bought the original Nightfall collection (it took a while for the shop to get it in); in the meantime I read I, Robot and all the other Asimov SF I could get my hands on. And after a while, I discovered he didn't just write SF. I came across Asimov's Guide to Science, and I decided that if it was anything like as well written as his SF, it was going to be good. It really was; he was an exceptionally clear writer.
There was more. In fact, there was much more. Asimov had the unusual, and indeed I think still unique, distinction of having published at least one book in every one of the ten major areas of the Dewey classification system. I read as many as I could find, but I never found them all; and I enjoyed everything I did find, from the works on popular science to Asimov's Bumper Joke Book (no, seriously - I can't recall if that was the exact title, but he did indeed write a joke book and I do still tell some of the jokes that were in it). And, very much like me, he enjoyed livening his writing up with an anecdote now and again, hence the title of this post.
At one point in his long and varied career, Asimov had occasion to use a chemical with the rather jaw-cracking name of para-dimethylaminobenzaldehyde, and so he went into the lab storeroom to get some. And the person in charge of this storeroom said cheerfully, "Oh - para-dimethylaminobenzaldehyde? Do you know you can sing that to the tune of The Irish Washerwoman?"
Asimov was immediately, and severely, earwormed, to the point where he found it difficult to stop singing the name of this wretched chemical repeatedly under his breath. A little later, he had to go to an editor's office about a story he'd written, and while he was waiting to see the editor he found himself singing "para-dimethylaminobenzaldehyde, para-dimethylaminobenzaldehyde..." softly to himself.
"Oh my," said the receptionist. "You know it in the original Gaelic!"
Asimov wrote: "What could I do? I smiled modestly and had her introduce me as Isaac O'Asimov."
I'm still chuckling. Thank you, Doctor!
