LOCATION is all-important in the housing market, as anyone in the business will tell you. The same may be true on a microscopic scale, for the genes in our cells. It is just becoming clear that inside the nucleus of every cell, there are bustling high streets full of hard-working genes and quiet cul-de-sacs where retired genes sit dormant.
This newly discovered geography of the genome may be crucial to understanding how cells switch genes on and off during development and throughout our lives. It may also bring new understanding of what goes wrong when cells become cancerous.
Genes band together into chromosomes, usually envisaged as the blurry X-shapes of tightly packed and coiled DNA a few microns long, fleetingly visible during cell division. Most of the time, though, chromosomes exist as long thin strands of more loosely wound DNA. Until recently, their arrangement in the cell nucleus was seen as the random result of their jumbling around together like lengths of string in a bag. But recent work staining individual chromosomes with fluorescent tags has suggested they take up a highly complex but ordered architecture.
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In the past few years, geneticists have discovered that for certain cell types at least, each chromosome tends to keep to its own territory within the nucleus, sloping back to its original spot after cell division. In certain human immune cells called lymphocytes, for example, chromosome 19 is found near the centre of the nucleus, while chromosome 18 lurks out by the perimeter. This was shown four years ago by geneticist Wendy Bickmore’s team at the Medical Research Council’s Human Genetics Unit in Edinburgh.
The explanation, according to Bickmore, isthat chromosome 19 contains many genes, while 18 is mostly “junk” DNA with few genes. There is a general trend, she says, for gene-rich chromosomes to sit right at the heart of the nucleus. Geneticist Thomas Cremer of the University of Munich, Germany, and his co-workers, have shown that such a pattern also exists in chicken cells. And last year Cremer’s team showed that despite chromosome reshuffling during evolution, the regions that bear genes equivalent to human chromosomes 18 and 19 stick to their respective spots in seven primate species (Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, vol 99, p 4424)
How a chromosome is arranged within its particular territory may be significant too. The best spot for busy genes – those that are frequently transcribed into RNA copies, the first step in protein synthesis – appears to be right at the margin, hanging out into the no-man’s-land between territories (dubbed the “interchromatin compartment”). This has held true the half dozen or so times that geneticists have searched for regions of DNA known to contain many highly active genes, such as those that are important for the immune system or skin cells.
If chromosomes are thought of as a complex, folded ball of DNA, most transcription occurs at the outer edges, with some going on further inside where the interchromatin compartment may creep in. Noone knows for sure why these spots are best. But some geneticists, including Cremer, think genes in these regions have better access to the transcription enzymes floating around in the interchromatin space. “Genes may be exposed at the surfaces, or even loop out into the interchromatin compartment,” says Cremer.
What is unclear, however, is whether genes’ location determines their activity, or the other way round. “We have no direct experimental evidence yet that if you put a gene somewhere else in a territory, its expression is affected,” says Bickmore. Such an experiment would be hard to do, as it would also require moving a gene’s regulatory elements, which may be thousands of bases away on the chromosome and may not all have been identified.
It is known that if transcription in highly active regions of human chromosomes is blocked, these regions slip back from the outer edges to the heart of the chromosome’s territory. That implies that transcription somehow draws out the genes. But it’s also possible the genes are actively thrust out to the edges to enable high rates of transcription. “Itcould be either one,” says Bickmore.
Confusingly, recent work on yeast by molecular biologist Susan Gasser and her team at the University of Geneva, Switzerland, has provided evidence to support both theories. Inthis organism, as with humans, inactive genes often lie out near the nuclear envelope – sometimes fastened to it – next to highly condensed and inactive DNA called heterochromatin. Gasser’s team tried snipping out short bits of a chromosome that normally lies near the centre of the nucleus. Bits of chromosome that contained inactive genes moved out to the nuclear envelope, but those that contained active genes stayed put. This suggests that activity determines location.
On the other hand, Gasser’s team also found that parts of yeast chromosomes may fasten themselves to the nuclear envelope even before their genes go silent – suggesting that sometimes moving house can precede and perhaps even cause changes in gene activity (Current Biology, vol 12, p 2076).
In animal cells too, areas full of heterochromatin DNA seem to be the quiet backstreets where downwardly mobile genes end up. The most direct evidence for this comes from genetic engineering – transgenes that insert themselves too close to regions of heterochromatin fail to be expressed.
And researchers led by Amanda Fisher of the MRC Clinical Sciences Centre in London have shown that heterochromatin may play a role as precursor cells differentiate into immune cells known as lymphocytes. Shortly after two particular genes switch off, the portion of the chromosome they occupy relocates in the nucleus to lie next to heterochromatin. The shift fails to occur in cell lineages whose daughter cells may need to reactivate the genes, suggesting it is a permanent silencing mechanism. No one knows, though, just how proximity to heterochromatin permanently muzzles genes.
If a gene’s position in the nucleus helps determine its activity, then genes that sit next to each other should have similar expression levels. Sure enough, over a fifth of fruit fly genes occur in blocks of 10 to 30 contiguous genes, which tend to turn on and off in synchrony, according to a study published last year by researchers from the University of California at Berkeley (Journal of Biology, ). “I don’t believe it’s a quirk of Drosophila,” says lead author Paul Spellman. “There’s no reason why this shouldn’t be true for pretty much all animals.”
If mere changes in location can awaken dormant genes and inactivate others, then subtle movements within the nucleus could be crucial in the genesis of cancers. It might, for example, explain why chromosomal “translocations” – in which bits of one chromosome break off and reattach to a different one – crop up so often in cancerous tumours. Tom Misteli, a cell biologist at the National Cancer Institute near Washington DC, says: “Presumably these recurrent translocations do something. One thing they could do is change the position of the gene in the nucleus – change its environment.” If so, then cancer researchers, like geneticists, may find themselves paying much more attention to geography.
In this embryonic science, we are only just starting to learn the ways that the geography of the nucleus affects the genes within it. But if, as seems likely, a gene’s neighbourhood strongly affects its activity, then scientists have a lot of surveying and mapping ahead.
