Excerpt from The Last Extinction by Gerta Keller, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

The Nastiest Feud in Science

Introduced as "the well-known sedimentologist George Keller," I walked onto the stage to snickering laughter. At the podium I adjusted the micro-phone, took a deep breath, and said, "I am Gerta Keller, the paleontologist." More laughter came from the sea of grinning male faces before me. The auditorium was packed to overflow, with people standing in the back and along the walls. These were the heavy hitters of my field—the world's leading geochemists, geophysicists, paleontologists, and other scientists—gathered at the prestigious 1988 Snowbird II conference on Impacts and Mass Extinctions. I quieted the voice in my mind that told me I didn't belong here; my work would speak for itself.

The title of my presentation flashed across the screen behind me: Chicxulub—the Non¬Smoking Gun: Impact Crater Predates K–P Boundary, and the laughter turned to murmurs of consternation and scorn. I began my talk, methodically walking the audience through the data I'd carefully assembled over the past three years. My nervousness turned into excitement as I made my case. I'd waited a long time for this moment. I knew my findings had the potential to redirect the entire conversation around one of the great mysteries in my field—what caused mass extinctions.

Only minutes after I'd begun my presentation, a tall, imposing man rose from the audience and strode to the microphone positioned in the aisle in the middle of the auditorium. I knew him: Jan Smit. Smit was assistant professor of paleontology and geology from the University of Utrecht and a fervent disciple of the impact mass extinction theory in its most dramatic version: A giant meteorite ten kilometers in diameter crashed into Earth, triggering freezing darkness, global wildfires, earthquakes, and mega-tsunami waves that devastated life on land and sea. Smit stared me down, a smug smile playing at his lips. The energy in the room changed, charged with nervous anticipation. The crowd registered it before I did: A fight was brewing.

As I continued my talk, doing my best to ignore Smit, other scientists lined up behind him and the two other microphones positioned in the side aisles. One by one they rose until dozens of men, tense and visibly angry, stood in silence. The microphones were to be used for follow-up questions, discussion, and critique, but as I watched the men heave with outrage, one almost purple in the face, it became clear that they were to be the weapons of my public humiliation.

I was only halfway through my presentation when Smit interrupted in a booming voice, "You are simply wrong! Everyone knows the mass extinction was instantaneous and caused by the impact." A chorus of shouts rose in support.

You know nothing!

Garbage!

You're ignorant!

A sick despair swept through me. I paused to collect myself and took a drink of water. My hand shook as I raised the glass. I pressed on, pointing out the data that defended my claims, but was quickly shouted down again.

You don't know what you're doing!

Stupid!

For the next forty-five minutes, a litany of insults rained down on me as some of the world's most renowned geophysicists, planetologists, and astrophysicists took turns publicly insulting me. Repeatedly, they asked me, Why does your data not confirm Jan Smit's mass extinction theory? There was no interest in the science, no questions about my results—just insults, denials, threats, and rage against an upstart, a woman no less, who dared to question their theory. Relishing his turn at the microphone, Smit shouted the loudest, attacking my data fiercely, though without substance. I could see his goal was to intimidate and isolate me, and ultimately to shut me down.

My cheeks burned and my heart threatened to gallop outside of my chest. I was confident in my results and knew I could ably defend them if given the opportunity, but I couldn't get a word in above the constant shouting. Never did I imagine this type of bullying behavior could occur at a professional conference.

Excerpted from The Last Extinction by Gerta Keller. Copyright © 2025 by Gerta Keller. Excerpted by permission of Diversion Books. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.