Editorials 
Article by: Natasha Whitton, Staff Writer
7/22/99

Evelyn Fox Keller: Historical, Psychological and Philosophical Intersections
in the Study of Gender and Science

If there is a single point on which all feminist scholarship over the past decade [the 1980s] has converged, it is the importance of recognizing the social construction of gender, and the deeply oppressive consequences of assuming that men and women are, in Simone de Beauvoir's words, "born rather than made." All of my work on gender and science proceeds from this basic recognition. My endeavor has been to call attention to the ways in which the social construction of a binary opposition between "masculine" and "feminine" has influenced the social construction of science. I argue that it is only by recognizing the social character of the construction of both gender and science that we can realize the emancipatory value--for men, for women, and for science--of transcending that opposition. The first step, of course, is to abandon the myth that the opposition between "masculine" and "feminine" is somehow "natural," and therefore fixed. (Evelyn Fox Keller. "Evelyn Fox Keller Objects to Editor's Title." The Scientist. 7 January 1991) ()  http://www.the-scientist.library.upenn.edu/yr1991/jan/let2_910107.html

Evelyn Fox Keller has devoted the past twenty years of her life to the study of the manner in which gender and science are related. Using psychoanalysis, she delves into the construction of such terms as man, woman, science, nature, gender and sex. Her work has helped to open the floodgates to a critique of the scientific process and has questioned our fundamental understanding of science within Western culture and civilization. This paper will focus on Keller's life and her work on the issue of women in science, culminating with her ground-breaking book, Reflections on Gender and Science, and moving beyond this work to comment on where her further research may lead.

In an interview with Keller in the summer of 1992, Beth Horning gleaned the following biographical material. Keller was born in 1936 to "poor, hard-working Russian Jewish immigrant parents who never went to high school" (61). Her early education was in the New York public school system, and she had no idea what she wanted to do with her life until she decided to become a psychoanalyst at the age of eleven. Keller was enthralled by the idea of the unconscious, which her older sister had explained to her on a visit home from college. When she graduated from high school, Keller was still set on this career goal, although her older brother, Maury, was trying desperately to persuade her to enter science, loaning her books by the likes of Asimov and Gamow. During her first year at Queens College, Keller was picked out by her calculus teacher who suggested that she major in physics. Ironically, her first real interest in the sciences came in composition class which she was trying desperately to pass. At the end of her rope, she latched onto the dusty Gamow books that her brother had loaned her. "In them a mild-mannered bank clerk by the name of Mr. Tompkins was forever going to lectures on science, falling asleep within minutes, and having educational dreams about, for example, the 'tribe of gay electrons'" (Horning 62). Using Mr. Tompkins example, Keller was able to harness her creative energy and write about topics that she enjoyed--questions of science--and so passed the class.

At the end of the first year, Keller had planned to transfer to a college further from home, preferable Antioch in Ohio or Reed in Oregon, even though her conservation parents wanted her to stay near home. Unfortunately, Keller discovered that the cost of transferring was simply more than she or her family could afford. As she comments in her interview with Horning, "That was a big blow. I felt that I had shot myself in the foot. It was infuriating" (62). Keller had just about decided to try to make it on her own without the support of her parents when her brother intervened and suggested Brandeis University. The school was closer to home than Antioch or Reed, yet far enough away for Keller to get out of the house. She could get a scholarship, and "it was a Jewish school, which made her parents much less nervous" (Horning 62-63). Her brother was friends with Leo Szilard, who was connected to Brandeis, So, off she went to Brandeis where she majored in physics. She claims she chose this field because she was good at it and enjoyed breaking the stereotype that girls were generally not proficient in the sciences: "Her actual interest in the subject, she figured, was just strong enough to get her through college and into medical school, where her psychoanalytical training would begin" (Horning 63).

In her senior year, however, Keller began work on a thesis devoted to the study of physicist Richard Feynman and became enthralled with theoretical physics. She won a scholarship from the National Science Foundation in 1957 and enrolled in graduate school at Harvard where she was expected to do well. Harvard was quite a change after the acceptance that she had received at Brandeis. As a woman scientist in the area of theoretical physics, she was known on campus as an anomaly and was frequently the butt of professorial jokes. She was often accused of plagiarism--"Didn't she know that no woman at Harvard had ever succeeded in becoming a theoretical physicist?" (Harding 64) After two years in the program, Keller was completely miserable. She finished her oral exams but decided not to write a thesis. She left for a vacation with her brother and his family at Cold Springs Harbor with "a suitcase full of Freud," fully expecting to leave the field and return to her original dream of psychoanalysis (Harding 64).

Cold Springs Harbor, however, was the home of the Long Island Biological Laboratories, and her brother soon had her mingling with some of the most brilliant biologists in the world. Here, Keller found an attitude far different from what she had encountered at Harvard; she was accepted and valued for her contributions. Within several weeks she had decided to conduct an experiment in molecular biology to serve as the crux of her dissertation. Returning to Harvard, she found a thesis adviser and got to work. By 1963, she had finished the degree and was teaching night school at New York University. She met and married mathematician Joseph Bishop Keller and had two children within two years.

At this point in her life, Keller finally began to learn something about psychoanalysis, although her position was not as a student but as a patient. In her sessions, Keller began to understand the discourse around which she had built her life, and the conflict that seemed to be inherent in her desire to be a woman and a scientist. The emerging feminist movement peaked her interest in her own unique position, and in 1974 she taught her first course in women's studies at the State University of New York at Purchase. In 1977, her short article "The Anomaly of a Woman in Physics" about her treatment in graduate school was published in a collection of essays entitled Working It Out, and one of the women who read the article suggested that Keller write something about Barbara McClintock. So, Keller began interviews with the scientist who had only recently had her lifetime of work recognized with the Nobel prize, work which culminated in A Feeling for the Organism. The work was uniquely personal for Keller because "Barbara McClintock represented everything [she] was afraid of--that becoming a scientist would mean [she'd] have to be alone" (Horning 65). During the summer that Keller had spent at Cold Springs Harbor with her brother's family, she had witnessed McClintock's isolated lifestyle and her long lone walks. As she worked on this project, she also continued to publish articles focusing on women's studies, and particularly turned her attention to a psychological analysis of the relationship of men, women and science.

In 1978 in Psychoanalysis and Contemporary Thought: A Quarterly of Integrative Studies, Keller published one of her first articles on the subject of "Gender and Science." Her intent was to explain the masculine character of science using the sociological- psychoanalytical perspective and to show the distinction between the objective and the subjective in order to link emotional and sexual identity with the development of the capacity for scientific thought. At the time, her study was groundbreaking, very little academic attention had been payed to the topic. As Keller points out, "The virtual silence of at least the nonfeminist academic community on this subject suggests that the association of masculinity with scientific thought has the status of a myth which either cannot or should not be examined seriously" (409). She emphasizes that her study is not to focus on the higher prevalence of males employed in scientific fields than females but rather to focus on the male character of the scientific discipline, as an organized institution and as a construct for the production of scientific knowledge. She notes that even within science the division of the "hard" and "soft" sciences are often referred to in terms of masculine and feminine.

From her sociological and psychoanalytical perspective, Keller seeks to show that the notion of masculine science is thoroughly entrenched in our society: "The identification between scientific thought and masculinity is so deeply embedded in the culture at large that children have little difficulty internalizing that identification" (Nielsen 43). Keller is speaking in generalities, though she does pepper her writing with concrete examples from her own life--her son thought that only men could be scientists. She is a theoretician; the calculated studies of young children and their reaction to science at home and in the classroom is the work of others. Her work focuses on the domination that science seeks to obtain over Nature, a phenomenon typically identified as feminine. In her essay Keller states the case this way, "The complement of the scientific mind is, of course, Nature--viewed so ubiquitously as female" (Psychoanalysis and Contemporary Thought, 412). Science is considered to be antithetical to Eros, hence any woman interested in the study of science is by definition "unfeminine." Thus, the heavily- stockinged, glasses-wearing, frumpy image of a woman scientist emerges, as evidenced in James Watson's description of Rosalind Franklin. Nature is objectified because the knower is divided from the known, so the very act of obtaining information becomes genderized.

In order to fully understand the process through which gender affects science, it is necessary to uncover the manner in which gender develops and show how this dichotomy becomes a part of scientific thought. Keller defines her undertaking in the following terms, "The task of explaining the associations between masculine and scientific thus becomes, short of reverting to an untenable biological reductionism, the task of understanding the emotional substructure that links our experience of gender with our cognitive experience" (Nielsen 45). As the individual child forms his or her self, the ability to think objectively becomes a part of the growth process. All humans in society must go through the distinction of self from non-self in the passage through adolescence to adulthood; the individual must also distinguish between the subject and the object. Keller's psychological interpretation of these passages hinges on the relationship of the infant and the mother. The young child sees the mother as an extension of the self. As the child grows, the process of separation from the mother comes to stand for the capacity of the child to understand objectivity, as based on the work of Piaget and Freud. Separation from the mother elicits opposing desires--reunification and the enjoyment of autonomy. According to Keller, "the recognition of the independent reality of both self and other is a necessary precondition both for science and for love" (Nielsen 47). Keller's argument is contingent on the understanding that, for most children, the emotional context from which the discrimination between the self and the other is formed is based on the relationship with the mother. Thus, this separation ultimately leads to a "skewing of our perceptions of gender" (Neilsen 49). The father represents the 'real' world because he is a member of it, separate from the mother. He stands for the objectivity of the individual; "Thus it is for that, for all of us--male and female alike--our earliest experiences incline us to associate the affective and cognitive posture of objectification with masculine, while all processes which involve a blurring of the boundary between subject and object tend to be associated with the feminine" (Neilsen 50).

Through this construction concerning the role of masculine and feminine, the truth itself takes on a genderized value. Unlike girls, boys must actually separate themselves from the mother figure twice--once to establish a separate identity and a second time in order to recognize their gender difference. Keller believes that one possible outcome of this process of separation is excessive delineation in boys because they are required to go through the process twice and an inadequate attention to delineation in girls. This process in turn leads to men who have difficulty participating in emotional relationships and women who feel threatened by the concrete abstraction of science. To support this assumption, Keller uses data from a number of studies including those of Anne Roe to show such trends in gender identification. The result is a vicious circle in which as Keller states, "Not only does our characterization of science thereby become colored by the biases of patriarchy and sexism, but simultaneously our evaluation of masculine and feminine becomes affected by the prestige of science" (Nielsen 54). Keller's final assessment in this article, however, is far from pessimistic. She does not believe that this cycle is inevitable and is hopeful that changes can be made to rectify the current path through reevaluation of parenting, a change in the ethos of science and gender, and an attitude which encourages the questioning of old dogmas.

Keller's next major published work appeared in the journal Signs in the Spring of 1982, one year before her book on McClintock was published. Her focus for the article entitled "Feminism and Science" was the question of the intermingling of masculine bias with what purports to be objective, scientific statement. Drawing on her earlier work, Keller continues to attack the masculine character she finds in science, but she is disturbed by the strong feminist critique that she believes is harmful to the body of scientific thought. She warns against a relativism possible in feminist theory that, in her view, "dooms women to residing outside of real politik modern culture" (Harding 233). She wished to deal with the controversy of whether or not feminism and science were mutually exclusive. Keller argues that "those elements of feminist criticism that seem to conflict most with at least conventional conceptions of science may, in fact, carry a liberating potential for science" (Harding 233). She suggests that science may learn from feminism and that feminism will be able to open discourses within the sciences that will enhance the substructure of the discipline while preserving the body of knowledge that science currently represents.

Keller points out that there are a number of critiques of science that run the gambit of the political spectrum. Leftist criticism singles out unfair employment practices insisting that the sex of scientists should not matter and that the quality of science would not be affected by the presence or absence of women scientists. This movement is supported by the experience of feminists in other areas and recent developments in the history and philosophy of science itself, including Thomas Kuhn's explanation of the influence of society on science--scientific knowledge beening shaped by political and social surroundings.

The intellectual danger resides in viewing science as pure social product; science then dissolves into ideology and objectivity loses all intrinsic meaning. In the resulting cultural relativism, any emancipatory function of modern science is negated, and the arbitration of truth recedes into the political domain. Against this background, the temptation arises for feminists to abandon their claim for representation in scientific culture and, in its place, to invite a return to a purely female subjectivity, leaving rationality and objectivity in the male domain, dismissed as products of a purely male consciousness. (Harding 237)

Keller is walking a tightrope between holding science responsible for a gender-specific relativism while maintaining that objectivity does exist in the abstract and should remain the goal of science whether exercised by men or women. In her view, feminist relativism leads to circular reasoning and actually makes the problem worse.

Keller believes that the task of feminist theory within science should be "to distinguish that which is parochial from that which is universal in the scientific impulse, reclaiming for women what has historically been denied to them; and to legitimate those elements of scientific culture that have been denied precisely because they are defined as female" (Harding 238). She reintroduces the object relations theory described earlier to show personality development as related to the mother. "Our early maternal environment, coupled with the cultural definition of masculine (that which can never appear feminine) and of autonomy (that which can never be compromised by dependency) leads to the association of female with the pleasures and dangers of merging, and of the male with the comfort and loneliness of separateness" (Harding 239). Once again, Keller emphasizes the young age at which these feelings are internalized, psychoanalysis must be employed to get to the root of perceived gender difference.

She reiterates her theory that objectivity, because of its association with a gendered form of separating subject from object, comes to be associated with masculinity through the father figure. "Central to the object relations theory is the recognition that the condition of psychic autonomy is double edged: it offers a profound source of pleasure, and simultaneously of potential dread" (Harding 240). Competence is thus achieved through an alienation of selfhood. The shift in the child from the symbiotic union with the mother to the autonomous self becomes the repression of related selfhood with the "other." In her view, the male must overcome the mother and transform his feelings of separation guilt into feelings of aggression and rage in order to make the leap complete.

In 1983, Keller's biography of Barbara McClintock, A Feeling for the Organism, appeared; five months later McClintock was awarded the Nobel prize for physiology and medicine. On one hand, Keller's work appeared at a very opportune time in the sense that McClintock was finally being recognized by the scientific community for her decades of careful study. But, on the other hand, with an increasing awareness of McClintock's research, the theoretical side of Keller's work may be lost as it is instead read strictly as biography. Keller not only provides a careful portrait of McClintock, her life, her work, and character, but she also lays out a critique of science in terms of gender and in terms of the discipline's inability to promote change. In Kuhnian terms, Keller is dealing with a society paradigm--scientists that refused to hear McClintock's insistent voice are finally listening. McClintock's struggles as a female in her profession are almost a footnote in A Feeling for the Organism contained in a single chapter entitled, "A Career for Women." This absence of conflict is largely due to the fact that McClintock was able to come to terms with her gender very early in her career. Keller does not write her biography as the story of a woman scientist excluded because of her gender. As Elaine Ognibene points out in her review of the book, the biography is "an analysis of the rhetoric of science, the social construction of scientific knowledge, and the value context in which scientific discoveries are made" (392).

Keller does, however, point to the difference in McClintock's technique which many might term a "feminine" slant. McClintock spent her years of study on the maize plant. While the scientific community moved on to phage and bacteria, she labored in the field harvesting a minimum of two crops a year and spending the rest of her time carefully examining each kernel of her precious yield. Her study of corn was devoted to complete understanding of the organism, not to experimentation directed to discern a particular fact. In her interviews with Keller, McClintock continually emphasized the special relationship that she was able to establish through her work. She felt that she was a part of the corn. She actually got to a point in her career where she could look at the corn kernels and accurately predict the genetic makeup that lay in the genotype.

Keller's concluding paragraph to this biography is, as most of her books and articles end, a hopeful look at the future of science. "If Barbara McClintock's story illustrates the fallibility of science, it also bears witness to the underlying health of the scientific enterprise" (197). Her work was eventually recognized, and she was honored as one of the great geneticists of her time. McClintock pays homage to the fascinating mechanisms that exist in nature, concluding that the force which controls natural existence has the ability to guarantee survival, thus, dramatically moving beyond both Lamarck and Darwin.

Reviews of the book were very favorable. Lauding Keller for realizing the importance of McClintock's work in advance of the general scientific community, although some reviewers including Bentley Glass criticized Keller's lack of focus on the material research of McClintock's life. Glass points out that there "is not one photograph of a maize chromosome, or of a translocation of segments between chromosomes, or of a nucleolus organizer and nucleolus" (601). He does admit, however, that such an analysis may take several decades to complete in a fully documented manner. Other reviews generally appreciated Keller's work, and this acceptance laid the groundwork for her next major publication, Reflections on Gender and Science.

Keller opens this publication which is published one year later with the following poignant paragraph expressing her personal relationship to her current project:

A decade ago, I was deeply engaged (if not quite fully content) in my work as a mathematical biophysicist. I believed wholeheartedly in the laws of physics, and in their place at the apex of knowledge. Sometime in the mid-1970s--overnight, as it were--another kind of question took precedence, upsetting my entire intellectual hierarchy: How much of the nature of science is bound up with the idea of masculinity, and what would it mean for science if it were otherwise? (3)

In this pivotal work in the history of science, Keller is not merely seeking to understand men or even women, for that matter, but the discipline of science and the constructs that have left it as a predominantly male-oriented field. She begins with the assumption that all three variables--men, women, and science--are socially created phenomena and that delving into the manner in which men and women are "made" in society will shed light on the making of science. Building on her early work, she concludes that men and women are made not born as is the discipline of science. Science must exist in a context, as Kuhn's work makes clear, but Keller again raises the caution of not allowing these contexts to degenerate into relativism. Science should be recognized as the search for "truth" or value in Nature, but, as with all human endeavors, cannot be infallible because it is performed by humanity.

Looking back at the founding of modern science, she sees the work of Bacon and other scientists of his time as clearly reinforcing the male ideal and glorifying in the subjugation of Nature to the scientific ideal. Because of this historical attitude, the practice of science has been tainted, so a study of science becomes by default a study of male personae: "Of course, to focus on the personal, emotional, and sexual dimensions of the construction and acceptance of claims to scientific knowledge is, precisely because of the male-centeredness of this tradition to focus on the personal, emotional, and sexual dimensions of male experience" (Reflections on Gender and Science 10).

Keller's final caution in the introduction to this collection of essays is to point to the success of science. She does not deny that science has made great progress in the last century, nor does she wish to change the manner in which research is done. Science continues to be, for her, "the search for reliable, shareable knowledge of the world around us" (Reflections 11), but this analysis should not be weighed down by reflections on gender. Although Keller claims not to have been aware of the controversy that the book would cause during the writing process, she did begin to realize when the advanced copies arrived that she might, in her own words, be torn "limb from limb" (Horning 66). The format of the book was in three parts, each focusing on a different issue in science--historical perspectives, psychological perspectives, and scientific/philosophical work.

Keller's prevailing thesis through all three sections is that scientific thought utilizes a male-dominated discourse. She supports her claim with a thorough interpretation of the founding of modern science in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, an examination of Freudian psychoanalytic conceptions of gender, and how her philosophy may be applied to everyday scientific practice. Drawing on her early published work and papers presented at conferences, Keller was able to rework her conclusions with the comments and criticism of those who were familiar with what she was attempting to suggest. The hornet's nest of reaction that Keller stirred up was both encouraging and disappointing. In one review Pamela Weintraub wrote, "Her conclusions cast a pall on science and its glorified priesthood, whose powerful political bias affects the 'description of nature' emerging from the lab," going on to encourage Keller's attempts to dislodge notions of the objectivity of science (76). Among her supportors are such well-known names as Carol Cohn, Stephen Jay Gould, and David Noble, but there are also a large number of dissenting voices within and without of the scientific community.

What is particularly disturbing about many of these voices is that close reading of their arguments reveal that they have either not read Reflection or have vastly misunderstood the argument. Keller is often accused of seeking to overthrow traditional scientific study in favor of a discipline run by mystical female scientists who are inherently more intuitive than their male counterparts--not what Keller was trying to say at all. And even among supporters of her ideas, Keller's writing style is criticized. In a glowing review, Evelyn Shaw credits Keller with finally speaking out about the problems inherent in scientific discourse. As a working scientist, Shaw begins her article with a personal story of her own early experiences with male colleagues who told her that she would do well because she had a "male" mind. Today, she agrees with Keller: "Older, wiser, and more reflective, I can now appreciate the enormous gender bias inherent in the natural sciences, not just in the exclusion of women scientists (unless they thought like men), but also in science itself" (36). Shaw's conclusion to the article, however, is a terse paragraph strongly criticizing Keller's style:

I wish that I could say that I really enjoyed reading this ponderous collection of essays in which words do not flow easily. What concerns me is that the book will find its way to the reference shelves of women's studies programs and be buried there, when its main topic, the elimination of gender bias in science, needs constant airing and discussion in the scientific community. (Shaw 36)

Keller's work can be highly theoretical, especially in its psychoanalysis and philosophical perspectives, but it can hardly be described as unreadable, in my opinion.

Major criticism of Keller's life work, however, began in 1989, when Evelleen Richards and John Schuster opened a dialogue with her by publishing an article in Social Studies of Science in which they repudiated her claims of gender-bias within science, arguing that her statements were theoretically and methodologically flawed. They claimed that Keller's studies focused on the utility of methodological discourses as "flexible rhetorical resources in the social processes of knowledge construction and negotiation of scientific knowledge claims," rather than literal accounts of scientific practice. (Richards and Schuster 698) They questioned the possibility of feminism promoting any real change in the social institution of science through method discourses and urged caution regarding taking such discourses on a literal level. They also did not approve of her use of "internalist historiographies" as revealed through the story of Barbara McClintock and compared these reading with the life of Rosalind Franklin.

Keller responded to this analysis by claiming that Richards and Schuster were misinterpreting feminist understanding of gender, particularly their emphasis on the ways that it is socioculturally constructed. She also pointed out that the final section of Reflections on Gender and Science dealt specifically with issues of everyday science. Richards and Schuster continued the argument in a subsequent article claiming that Keller had misinterpreted their argument and reiterating their position on science and the literal inefficiency of method discourses. This argument could conceivably have continued in this fashion, however both parties ceased to publish open responses after this final exchange.

Keller's more recent works have taken a more conservative tone, not necessarily because she has changed her views but primarily because society shifted since her first publications in the 1970s. In Secrets of Life, Secrets of Death published in 1992 her first chapter is an extended update on the issue of gender and science, pointing out that by the present standards of science and feminist studies her ideas which were revolutionary in 1978 are quite mild. She does not wish to recant her former statements about science and gender, but she emphasizes the respect that should be maintained for the scientific discipline:

Indeed, it is precisely because of the testimony of our technological prowess, because science as we know it 'works' so extraordinarily well (that is, because it so effectively meets so many of the goals set for it), that I have become increasingly uncomfortable with the limitations of my initial preoccupations with scientific representations of 'nature,' and correspondingly compelled to think about the force and efficacy of these representations. (Keller 4)

Keller chooses in this later writing to focus more on what is happening in the lab than on the social constructs that have created that working space. Her focus becomes the language used to exchange information within that setting--for example, the use of the term "competition" in speaking about how organisms react when they are in a setting with limited resources. This word connotes an aggressive quality that may not fully account for the modes in which adaptation to such situations occurs. The connotations of "competition" are, therefore, deemed masculine in origin and inappropriate in the study of gender-less science.

Keller's most recent work Refiguring Life takes a radically different approach and is essentially unrelated to her work on gender. She claims to have gotten started on the project when she criticized the Human Genome Project because she does not believe that genes could control all aspects of human development and was countered with the arguments that scientists are beginning to discover how genes affect embryonic growth. In her own words she responded, "Oh yeah? Really? I thought I better find out what they were talking about and what I discovered was so interesting that it completely shifted the course of my research" (Horning 68). Molecular biology in recent years has increasingly moved to a study of a system of feedback within the cell in which the cytoplasm would act to affect construction in the nucleus. Keller follows this strand of thought through the history of molecular biology in new work that leaves behind her conundrum on gender and science.

Keller continues to be well respected in her field, and her career is far from over. Each new book brings a new perspective and a revision of her old ideas in favor of new and emerging paradigms. Her views on science remain respectful while cautioning that the search to understand nature can never be accomplished outside of a socially-constructed arena. I will close, allowing Keller to speak in her own voice in a passage taken from the epilogue to Reflections:

Just because we are finite beings, located, situated, embodied, we can, and can only, muddle through--sometimes with more success than at others. Scientists muddle through with staggering success. Only there success is rather different than they imagine. It depends not on any possibility of translating thought into action, but on the conjoining practices of a colluding community of common language speakers. Our task as historians and philosophers of science is to make sense of the successes of science in terms of the particular linguistic and material conventions that scientists have forged for their sorts of muddling through. (181)

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Bibliography

Glass, Bentley. "A Feeling for the Organism: Book Review." Isis. July 1984: 600-601.

Harding, Sandra and Jean F. O'Barr, eds. Sex and Scientific Inquiry. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1987.

Harding, Sandra and Merrill B. Hintikka, eds. Discovering Reality. Dordrecht, Holland: D. Reidel Publishing Company, 1983.

Horning, Beth. "The Controversial Career of Evelyn Fox Keller." Technology Review. January 1993: 58-68.

Keller, Evelyn Fox. A Feeling for the Organism. New York: W. H. Freeman and Company, 1983.

Keller, Evelyn Fox. "Gender and Science." Psychoanalysis and Contemporary Thought. September 1978: 409-433.

Keller, Evelyn Fox and Elisabeth A. Lloyd, ed. Keywords in Evolutionary Biology. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1992.

Keller, Evelyn Fox. Refiguring Life. NY: Columbia UP: 1995.

Keller, Evelyn Fox. Reflections on Gender and Science. New Haven: Yale UP, 1985.

Keller, Evelyn Fox. Secrets of Life, Secrets of Death. NY: Routledge, 1992.

Nielsen, Joyce McCarl, ed. Feminist Research Methods. Boulder: Westview Press, 1990.

Ognibene, Elaine. "A Feeling for the Organism, Book Review." Quarterly Journal of Speech. August 1985: 392-394.

Richards, Evelleen and John Schuster. "The Feminine Method as Myth and Accounting Resource: A Challenge to Gender Studies and Social Studies of Science." Social Studies of Science. 4 November 1989: 697-720.

Shaw, Evelyn. "Can we rename nature?" New York Times Review of Books. 21 April 1985: 36.

Tuana, Nancy, ed. Feminism and Science. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1989.

Weintraub, Pamela. "Superforce, Planiverse, Time's Arrows, and Other Adventures in Science." Ms. June 1985: 76.

Zuckerman, Harriet, Jonathan Cole, and John Bruer. The Outer Circle. NY: W. W. Norton & Company, 1991.

For bibliographies of Keller's work see:


http://sun3.lib.uci.edu/~scctr/Wellek/Keller/Bibliography

or

http://www.cddc.vt.edu/feminism/keller.html

Work by and/or including Keller's

 

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