A Murder of Quality, by John Le Carré

Somehow this early story by Le Carré over the years escaped my attention. Together with what I believe is his first novel (Call for the Dead), this tale sits more in the murder mystery genre rather than with spies and such, which made his fame. Nevertheless, it is well-crafted both as a mystery and as a literary work. Suffusing the story is a critique of English society and class divide. It might be worthwhile to compare the style of the Swedish police/detective novels (see earlier posts about Sjöwall and Wahlöö), crafted with tight, clean prose, with the more artful language of Le Carré. Both are wonderfully wrought, on similar canvases, yet are so distinctly different that one may marvel over the flexibility of language and the creativity of the human mind.

The Cancer Chronicles, by George Wilson

Wilson's journalistic-style narrative is loaded with a potpourri of cancer related stuff mostly geared to a non-medical professional audience. Nevertheless, I found many interesting facts and ideas sprinkled throughout. For example, Wilson delves, albeit briefly, into the Love Canal disaster in New York state in the 1970's and cites research that found only modest increase in genetic mutations in offspring of people living in the area and actually a decrease in overall cancer prevalence. And who knew that dinosaurs got tumors? I suppose it's logical that they did. One of the strengths of the book is that it is heavily referenced. Cancer, to me, is a byproduct of existence. I've always felt that it wasn't a disease in the same way that a bacterial infection is. Or an autoimmune condition like rheumatoid arthritis or Crohn's. Cancer is uncontrolled cell proliferation. When the out of control cells migrate and take over other tissue (e.g. breast carcinoma cells traveling to bone), it is called metastatic cancer. After some time the uncontrolled growth takes over the other organs to such an extent that they no longer function properly and the organism dies. Cells need to divide in order for an organism to live. But they cannot divide and just keep dividing willy nilly. They would take over the body, right? Cells have a control mechanism which regulates when and how often they divide. Some genes encode proteins that are part of the machinery of cell division (so-called "oncogenes") and other genes encode proteins that regulate the process by slowing/stopping it (so-called "tumor suppressor genes"). When any of these myriad genes get mutated and don't work properly, the cell is at risk of losing control and becoming cancerous or immortal; the balance is disrupted. How do mutations happen? Sometimes just randomly - every time the cell divides it must duplicate its DNA. The machinery is not perfect and mistakes happen. This is one way mutations develop. Another way is through exposure to something which mutates the DNA - chemicals, viruses, radiation such as x-rays, radon, the sun, cell phone towers - nope, just kidding (there's no real evidence that low frequency electomagnetic radiation in power lines, cell phones, or other appliances is mutagenic.  A certain basic amount of energy is needed to ionize molecules or break DNA bonds and for the average person walking the streets the background electromagnetic radiation is insufficient to generate this level of energy. Please don't get too agitated. Don't forget that you can increase the amount of electromagnetic radiation either by increasing the number of devices or increasing the amplitude of one device, but the energy level will still be insufficient to ionize molecules or damage DNA. Energy is proportional to frequency and inversely proportional to wavelength; amount has nothing to do with it. Check out a physics book if you want to learn more. Or see this nice summary, especially parts 2 and 3, http://large.stanford.edu/publications/crime/references/moulder/moulder.pdf. By the way, Einstein's Nobel prize was on the photoelectric effect which harnessed this relationship). The longer you live, generally speaking the more often your cells have divided. And, since mutations occur when the DNA is replicated during cell division, it stands to reason that the longer you are alive, the greater the chance that you will develop cancer. And it's true! Cancer, for the most part, is a disease of older people (check out SEER data for verification - you have to dig into the website a bit but you'll find age charts like this one for bladder cancer http://seer.cancer.gov/statfacts/html/urinb.html). You might argue that it keeps us from living too long for purposeful advantage of the species. If we (as a species) lived too long, it would be a disincentive to reproduce (which also introduces mutations because of rapid cell division both during genesis of germ cells - sperm and ova - and during fetal development). Reduction in reproduction slows the evolution of a species. Take a look at bacterial colonies which reproduce and mutate rapidly. They develop resistance to drugs quite quickly both in vitro and in vivo.  When was the last time you saw a subset of humans develop mutations that conferred an equally powerful selection advantage? The development of larger craniums to accommodate larger brain sizes was due to a series of mutations that conferred a survival advantage. But that happened over millions of years. It can be fairly argued that without cancer or other things like infections, tigers, wars, or the "thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to," you wouldn't be here reading this. I would have liked Wilson to dive more into these types of discussions. Instead, he whips through a tour of the cancer industry, epidemiology, and basic science research approaches to killing cancer cells. His own life serves as the gravitational force for the narrative - his wife was diagnosed with a high grade endometrial carcinoma and his brother developed head and neck squamous cell carcinoma. Their stories are woven into the text. A good but not great tour of cancer. If you are interested in the subject and not a physician or cancer researcher, you will find it extremely informative. If you are of the industry, it's still a quick and, at times, interesting read.

Genius on the Edge, by Gerald Imber

A bit disingenuous, the title leading me to think that William Halsted was a true whackadoo who revolutionized something in modern medicine.  While the latter is true and it can be fairly argued that he was the most influential surgeon ever, I wouldn't describe his life's arc as being on the edge.  The guy had a cocaine habit, apparently, and used heroin as a way to mitigate the effects of withdrawal.  Somehow he was able to balance these addictions and maintain a productive life.  An über productive life if you will.  He introduced aseptic technique to the operating room, revolutionized hernia repairs.  Hernia repairs?  I thought "big deal."  But prior to Halstead, the failure rate was 80% and the mortality rate around 30-40%.  The alternative, of course, having no surgery, invariably led to death.  He also made great progress in the field of thyroid surgery.  His most lasting influence, however, is in the role he played establishing Johns Hopkins as the center of modern American medicine (an empiric, scientific discipline).  Modern medicine is founded on scientific methods born in the laboratories of Europe in the late 19th century.  Halsted traveled and studied there.  Under the guiding hand of William Welch, he brought these skills to Hopkins.  Under Halsted's leadership, surgeons like Cushing, Young (Urologist), Kelly (Gynecology), Dandy (most influential neurosurgeon ever?) and many others studied, practiced and took their new skills out to other institutions in the country.  American medicine is littered with surgeons, two/three generations removed from Halsted who echo his work.  Imber, to his credit, doesn't spend too much time on Halsted's private life, what little is known of it.  The drugs get their do.  An occasional mention of homosexuality, never proven.  And his marriage.  Necessary and complementary components to a rich, rounded talk of this intriguing figure.  I find interesting that Halsted was able to dedicate enormous amounts of energy and concentration to the task at hand (e.g. surgery) which, prior to his career, was a short and brutal affair.  Ether, aseptic technique and painstaking attention to detail (e.g. tying off all those little bleeders as one moved along with the procedure) led to better and better outcomes.  How could a man with a cocaine and heroin addiction perform at such a high level consistently for decades?  Did he also have Asperger's?  Imber's work is a nice complement to John Barry's The Great Influenza which chronicles the rise of modern medicine and couples it to the great flu pandemic of 1918.

The Laughing Policeman, by Maj Sjöwall and Per Wahlöö

Another splendid police mystery from these Swedish authors! The most complicated story line of the four thus far. Although Roseanna gives it a run for its money and probably still remains my favorite of the four. This is brief, what else do I have to say? Crisp, well crafted, great character development, atmospheric - a nice diversion. Cheers.

White Noise, by Don DeLillo

My wife included this book in her modernism literature class some years back and her copy has been kicking around the house ever since. Taking a break from my police novels I jumped right in. The water is deep. And expansive enough to have currents, waves, tides and all types of aquatic life. At a most superficial level Delillo satirizes (derides?) the din of modern American life. Supermarkets, TV, pharmaceuticals, government organizations, religion (the bit with the nun at the end is priceless), education and industry all find their way onto his skewer. One especially pointed instrument takes aim at higher education. Jack, the main character, created and is the chair of the Hitler Studies Department. He doesn’t speak a lick of German but leads a global conference and is seen by all as the field’s thought leader. He is surrounded by inanity. An American culture theorist who wants to grow his career around Elvis in much the same way and who stalks grocery stores, buying only generics, sermonizing on the influence of radiation and waves. Another who dissertates on the language of cereal boxes. There is just enough realism here to make one nod with familiarity – especially for those who have lurked around university humanity departments. And this reflects onto the outside world as well. A toxic event occurs and the government responds by using it as a simulation for training purposes. Jack is told he will die from exposure, but not for thirty years or so. I’d imagine there’s a good chance Jack will die from something within thirty years! Disorder reigns and in the maelstrom leadership comes from Jack’s moody son, Heinrich. The other children are a locus of sanity while parents Jack and Babette wax neurotic and vibrate from myriad impulses of their noisy world. The TV is never off and moves from room to room like a hookah shared by hippies. Jack and Babette’s relationship is anchored by an ongoing philosophical discussion on who will die first, why each should be the one to die first and the fear of being left alone, of dying. Their co-dependence and neuroses destabilize even this potential safe haven. DeLillo’s din is everywhere. This is an important work. And readable for most. For points of comparison, I’m reminded of Pynchon, Heller and Vonnegut.

The Man Who Went Up In Smoke, by Maj Sjöwall and Per Wahlöö

Another Swedish police mystery. Good, not great. Certainly Roseanna resonated stronger with me. Although the atmospheric and detailed Budapest sequences, of which there are many since the story takes place almost entirely in Budapest, make for great reading especially if you are interested in that part of the world and know little of the city (I am one). How’s that for a sentence that begs to be divided? I sense that Mankell co-opted the “police detective forced to find his way around a different (Eastern bloc) country while investigating a murder/disappearance” when he wrote The Dogs of Riga. I really like these books. They are about as real as it gets. Not really a spoiler - the end sums it up for me when Beck’s wife asks him, “how are you really?” and he responds, “not well.” He’s not well not because of the horror of what he’s dealt with (or maybe he is…) but I think because he’s beaten down by the nihilistic nature of the world. Like Faceless Killers (by Mankell), this book seeps with a mood existential. I’m on to number three in this series, The Man On the Balcony. I’m also muscling through the brobdingnagian, The Decline and Fall of the British Empire 1781-1997 by Piers Brendon and a collection of essays by Christopher Hitchens. Hence my absence. Cheers.

Mortality, by Christopher Hitchens

Somewhat surprisingly I had not even heard of Christopher Hitchens until just a few months ago when I was listening to the weekly Skeptics Guide to the Universe podcast and one of the regulars talked about his death. Lo and behold he was a heavy in the world of journalism and an advocate for the scientific community arguing that reason and rationalism should govern society and not religion. He died recently of esophageal cancer. Before his death he wrote a series of articles that appeared in (Vanity Fair?) in which he discussed all types of death related topics including experiences in the hospital with the medical community, reaction by fans at book signings, thoughts on (a) god, the process of dying, dignity and many others. His is an articulate prose with wit and a vast vocabulary. I have picked up his mammoth collection of essays, Arguably - I look forward to learning more about him. A great find!

Roseanna, by Maj Sjöwall and Per Wahlöö

I am on a Swedish detective/mystery romp. And with much enjoyment despite my at best tepid response to the second of the dragoon tattoo books. This masterful tale from the 1960’s is excellent and the best of the bunch so far. What’s not to like? It’s tight. It’s vivid. It’s characters come alive, especially Beck, the detective and protagonist. The hunt for the killer is methodic and effective. It is a time before computers - a refreshing way to hear a police procedural tale. I look forward to the next in the series.

The Dogs of Riga, by Henning Mankell

The second in the series of Kurt Wallander Swedish detective mysteries. It moves along with a feel that is similar to Faceless Killers (see earlier post) and gets downright dark and gritty when the action turns to Latvia. I found the occasional discussion about politics, the State and the individual among the more rewarding moments in the book. Too, the moody and depressing descriptions of the cityscape are fraught with depression. On the downside I found the romantic bits between Wallander and Baiba a bit contrived. But, objectively, if Wallander had gone through everything that he had and found her attractive, can I blame him for trying to whisk her away to Sweden? Even if she was widowed recently and Wallander was investigating her husband’s death? I suppose. Mankell could’ve lent more realism to the ordeal by spending more time on Wallander’s illegal return trip to Latvia. Perhaps my objection is a result of Mankell’s ineffectiveness in conveying what an ordeal Wallander’s investigation and return journey were. Or, perhaps, it is my cynicism. My only other problem with the story was the ending (shoot-out on the roof). That was too much Hollywood and formulaic storytelling. Nevertheless, the novel was a good read. But I liked Faceless Killers better. I’ll give Mankell and Wallander another shot (no pun intended) – you should do the same.