This book was a great read, I found it hard to put down. I loved the mix of personal family history and history of science—you come away with lots of This book was a great read, I found it hard to put down. I loved the mix of personal family history and history of science—you come away with lots of interesting tidbits.
I enjoyed learning about Mary-Claire King, an admirable researcher who not only discovered the role of BRCA mutations in inherited cancer, along with other important discoveries, but also mixed her love for genetics with political activism beginning with her time at Berkeley and beyond (e.g. she developed genetic techniques for reuniting separated families in Argentina after the Dirty War). There is also especially interesting discussion surrounding the moral question of whether it makes sense to patent a gene (culminating in the Supreme Court case against Myriad Genetics who held a monopoly on BRCA testing): Would the test have existed if there was no financial incentive for a big company to invest huge resources into cracking the problem? Is is ethical to block patients from getting a second opinion, or to set testing costs at a premium due to monopoly? The history of developments in breast cancer treatment through history, with many innovations linked to the battlefield, is also very interesting (there is some overlap here with the book by Mukherjee but it was good to get a refresh).
Stark describes well the “Pandora’s box” opened by such genetic testing. On the one hand, the advance of science allowing one to ascertain that they have a 70% or higher risk of breast cancer and a 30% or higher risk of ovarian cancer is a gift allowing one to take action. But at the same time the options left to you still seem barbaric: amputation of major organs. If you decide to have kids, do you choose IVF and screen out the BRCA mutated embryos? Is a BRCA mutation such a horrible thing that one should be selected out of existing in the first place?
I think this is an important book for anyone to read. But having a BRCA mutation myself, it struck a particular chord. I’m in the pre-surgery phase, so can’t speak to that part of the book, but can definitely relate to the weight of family history and the anxiety of constant screenings that come back with ambiguous results. I appreciate reading about the later parts of her journey before going through it myself. She does a really good job describing the feeling of loss of femininity, even as someone who was not very “girly” to begin with. As well as her battle to advocate for herself when faced with medical professionals who uniformly say that 30 is too young for a mammogram (not if you have a BRCA mutation) or condescending mansplaining surgeons who think they know best what their patients want (she eventually found a good one).
The author is also aware of her own privileges and comments on it. There are many additional issues that are skirted by being white, cis, middle class, well educated, etc. For instance African American BRCA carriers are more likely to get an ambiguous result when testing. And there is not good information available for supporting trans BRCA carriers....more
A fictional recounting of the Great Plague of London from 1665-1666. The plague is thought to spread to the village of Eyam through a contaminated cloA fictional recounting of the Great Plague of London from 1665-1666. The plague is thought to spread to the village of Eyam through a contaminated cloth, and the villagers make the decision to stay quarantined to prevent spreading the disease to other nearby villages.
This book is worth reading just for the prose, which is beautiful. You can tell from the versatile attention to detail, ranging from the gruesome to descriptions of light falling in certain ways on the scenery, that the author is a foreign correspondent (having covered many crises abroad for the Wall Street Journal) as well as an excellent writer. I'm no history expert, but it also seemed to me that the author carefully researched small details about everyday life during the time period, even if some aspects seemed slightly romanticized (how many servants would have been taught to read and treated as equals by their employers?).
Year of Wonders is at its core a study of the human response to catastrophe. While the historical setting is different (e.g. at that time women behaving outside the norm could be quickly accused of witchery) it is interesting to read during the covid pandemic....more
A useful book to get a glimpse into the fascinating history of cancer. There are many distinct threads to this story (surgery, chemotherapy, radiationA useful book to get a glimpse into the fascinating history of cancer. There are many distinct threads to this story (surgery, chemotherapy, radiation, politics, activism, philanthropy, prevention, compassionate care, genetics, etc.). Just a few things I learned: * Many early drugs used for chemotherapy came from the German dye industry as it developed new chemicals to keep up with the textile industry. Mustard gas used during WWI also led to an early chemotherapy drug. * It was interesting to see the extent to which politics and activism were crucial in the fight against cancer, alongside the push for a scientific understanding and cure; I found the parts about the fight against the tobacco industry particularly interesting. * I also appreciated the chance to see a birds-eye view of a scientific/medical field: The ebb and flow between radical and conservative approaches to surgery and chemotherapy, the prejudices that led scientists to take wrong turns (e.g. believing the disease is mostly caused by viruses), unexpected discoveries that overturned the way researchers thought about cancer (e.g. a cancer gene in a virus resembles genes in humans and animals), arguing for causation (as opposed to correlation) for carcinogenic substances, the different measures of progress in cancer research, the debate about taking time to prove efficacy with scientific trials vs. making life-saving drugs immediately available, the way the US funding system hurt interdisciplinary advances, and beyond.
I did feel like I got a decent first impression of the history of cancer care and research and where it’s heading from here, although I would have been interested to read more about current areas of research (tell me more about cancer pathways!). It also seemed like some parts of the story were discussed exhaustively, while other (important) threads were almost left out. Partly this is the nature of tackling such a complicated subject, but I did find it strange, for example, to see only a brief mention of BRCA mutations while multiple chapters were devoted to campaigns and court cases against the tobacco industry.
While I found the topic extremely interesting, I wasn’t a big fan of the writing style. The timeline fluctuated back and forth in time more than it needed to, the writing became repetitive in parts, and it seemed like an overall structure was lacking. Given the complicated, multi-thread narrative, it would have helped a lot if the titles of chapters more clearly indicated the topic; as it was this felt like wading through a sea of dense information with no sense of direction. The sheer number of marginally relevant quotes (from Shakespeare to Audre Lorde) also quickly became overwhelming. Finally, I’m not sure that anthropomorphizing cancer really added much to the narrative, and indeed this angle was dropped through much of the story apart from the very beginning and the end.
Nonetheless, I appreciate that Mukherjee took the time to write a summary to help cancer patients understand a little about the history of their disease. I will need to make some difficult decisions about some of these procedures (hopefully no sooner than) in my late 30s, and it helps a lot to feel a bit more grounded in the history of cancer surgery as well as basic developments in researchers’ understanding of cancer itself....more
I enjoyed reading this beautiful novel that recreates the plot and language of Mrs. Dalloway transported to the NYC gay scene in the late 20th centuryI enjoyed reading this beautiful novel that recreates the plot and language of Mrs. Dalloway transported to the NYC gay scene in the late 20th century. It can be read on its own but there are allusions to many of Woolf’s characters and themes, so I think you do significantly benefit by reading Mrs. Dalloway first. Much as Mrs. Dalloway contains two interweaving threads (the storylines of Clarissa and Septimus) here there are three separate threads that take place in different time periods: A biographical depiction of Virginia Woolf herself and her suicide, a sketch of the regretful life of a bookish American housewife (Laura Brown) in the 1950’s, and a description of a day in the life of a *late* 20th century socialite named Clarissa Dalloway who is throwing a party for the ailing author Richard.
Woolf’s hints of a romance between Clarissa and Sally were daring at the time, and it is wonderful to see Cunningham further develop this homosexual relationship and others decades later when they could be more fully realized. His writing is absolutely lovely (he nails the description of Richard’s NYC apartment, for example!), somewhat easier to read than Woolf though he has a similar style including quite intricate imagery. I was particularly (and unexpectedly) touched by his nuanced portrayal of the connection between a mother and her 3-year old son — it is this part of the book that I expect will stay with me most. Laura’s son is so innocently receptive to her, and there is a tension between tender love between the two and Laura’s incapability to be with him continually. Stunning.
I do have to say that I was surprised this book won a Pulitzer, despite how beautifully crafted it was, since Cunningham so heavily draws on Woolf’s voice and the existing themes from Mrs. Dalloway. There’s nothing wrong with this and it is clearly what he intended, but it is not original in the way I would expect from a book receiving one of the highest possible literary honors....more
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