Has it really been since February that I posted? Wow. It's not that I haven't been reading. It's just that I'm not posting. So, only quick summaries/reflections.
Blue Hole Back Home, by Joy Jordan-Lake. It's rather cool to know, I mean, really know, the author of a book, and I do know Joy. I should have read this book sooner, but I'm glad that I did. The story is loosely based on places and settings from Joy's childhood in the South. It addresses the provincial nature of small rural areas and the reaction of the kids when a new girl from Sri Lanka, moves to a back-water burg. She's brave; she's interesting; but she's different. The group that "Turtle" runs with come to accept her, but not everyone is so welcoming. There are plenty of hints that the tension caused by the new, "dark-skinened" girl is going to come to a head. And it does, and tragically so. America at its worst--and best.
Ulltimately, it does not leave one with the warm fuzzy feeling of childhood reminiscences. Rather, it is a reminder of the not-so-distant ugly past--much of the book is set in 1979, which would have been shortly after I graduated from high school.
Perhaps the only criticism I have is that in some respects, I had a hard time fully relating. As a Sri Lankan, Sanna clearly had her challenges. Perhaps it's small-minded of me, but I can't help but think that she would never have been accepted by the "mangy pack" had she been Black. I suppose there's a vein of resentment that foreigners generally are better accepted than African-Americans, but that's something for me to work on. It was time well-spent.
Every Patient Tells a Story, by Lisa Sanders. Sanders is a consultant to the TV series House. That, of course, was a selling point for this book. Her premise is that doctors who listen to their patients are likely to provide better service--not exactlyearth-shattering. However, she does make the case that in many ways, the medical profession has become so enamored with the bells and whistles of technology that the patient is almost secondary to medical care, and that something is lost when physicians fail to listen carefully to their patients to obtain context about their various symptoms. She recounts a series of vignettes--as most of these kinds of books do--to illustrate her points. The most memorable story involved the pot-smoker who was suffering all sorts of problems with nausea and dizzyness because of her chronic use of weed. She, like probably most of us, had never heard of the maladies that some chronic users suffer. Her view: she knew people who smoked more pot than she who suffered no issues. Hence, she disappeared into obscurity, having left the hospital.
Not a bad book.
The Winds of War, by Herman Wouk. The best thing I can say about this book is that I have a better understanding of the lead-up to America's entry into World War II. The second-best thing that I can say about this book is that it had a mildly entertaining story. However, it is one of those stories where all the characters seem to be in harm's way but generally escape with little or no scars to show for it. Only one character suffers any bodily injury, while in Warsaw, chasing after a girl that he ultimately marries. It's not that I want bad things to happen to characters, but rather that it detracts from the reality of the story that the various characters could lead such charmed lives while being at every crucial event in the run-up to Pearl Harbor. Indeed, they're all in Hawaii. The ship that Pug was to captain is sunk, and he's distressed by that, but other than that, all is well. Even his wife, who has a brief affair, is ready to resume her wifely duties.
To add insult to injury, the book has one of those irresolute endings. It ends with Pearl Harbor. What happens to the characters thereafter is left for the sequel. It is the "winds of war" that are addressed by this book, not the war itself, but no thanks to the sequel.
Sacre Bleu, by Christopher Moore
What does one do when her son gives her a book for Mother's Day? Why, read it of course. BoilerBaby 2 and I both became fans of Christopher Moore with our respective readings of "A Dirty Job." In this book, Moore continues to display his character of a very well-read, well-educated 13 year-old, masquerading as a grown man. On the one hand, Sacre Bleu builds its story around the art world during the time of Talousse-Latrec, when impressionists ruled. On the other hand, Moore writes like an adolescent who giggles with his buddies about "bonking" and other such things. Ultimately, that's what makes this book engaging. As I reader, I could indulge my inner child while still feeling like I was reading a very weighty book and learning about Monet, Manet, Seurat, and others. And I did learn something: blue was apparently a very expensive pigment to obtain. Only the wealthiest could afford to commission or purchase paintings that contained blue.
The protagonist of the story is Bleu, a muse who has lived for time immemorial with The Color Man, who inspires artists to paint with the blue pigment she and the Color Man concoct, which then provides their means of immortality. But somebody has to pay. Somebody always has to pay, in the form of death.
The story is wacky, silly, and gave me the speech I plan to use with my children's significant others. Glad I could read this book.
Reading: The First 20 Minutes
Listening: 11-22-63
Given up: Russka
The Red Queen
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Monday, February 27, 2012
Catherine the Great by Robert Massie. This book tells the life of one of the most fascinating rulers the world has ever seen. That she was married very young to the future emperor having met him only once and enduring a loveless (and sexless) marriage gives some hint of the unusual life she led. That she had some 12 lovers, and that at best only one of her children was fathered by her husband (Peter Ulrich) provides another level of fascination. That the empress would have absolute power to rule her people and protect them and that she had the cajones to wage war and defend seek to exapnd her empire makes her truly a unique person to have lived.
Ultimately, while the books was long, it has peaked my interest about Russia and Russian history. St. Petersburg, here I come? That wouldn't be out of th realm of consideration. I've gone through my Russian literature phase, but this might be my second wave of interest in all things Russian.
How to be Black by Baratunde Thurston. I only thought I knew how to be black. But apparently one could use a book. Actually, this handbook on how to be black, written as a satire, strikes a chord. When do black people first realize that they're black? Are we in a post-racial world? Those are just two of the questions posed as Thurston tells his onw history (lived in the DC ghetto; attended Sidwell Friends; black mother who loved to camp and travel, and yes, he can swim!)of being black. Along the way, he instructs readers on how to be the black friend, the black employee,the angry Negro, and the spokesperson for our people. The chapter on how to be the second black president is just short of brilliant. In it, he deftly (and comically) acknowledges the forces that led to President Obama's election while skewering liberals who supported him and conservatives who didn't.
So appropriate to read--after all I read it during Black History month.
Ultimately, while the books was long, it has peaked my interest about Russia and Russian history. St. Petersburg, here I come? That wouldn't be out of th realm of consideration. I've gone through my Russian literature phase, but this might be my second wave of interest in all things Russian.
How to be Black by Baratunde Thurston. I only thought I knew how to be black. But apparently one could use a book. Actually, this handbook on how to be black, written as a satire, strikes a chord. When do black people first realize that they're black? Are we in a post-racial world? Those are just two of the questions posed as Thurston tells his onw history (lived in the DC ghetto; attended Sidwell Friends; black mother who loved to camp and travel, and yes, he can swim!)of being black. Along the way, he instructs readers on how to be the black friend, the black employee,the angry Negro, and the spokesperson for our people. The chapter on how to be the second black president is just short of brilliant. In it, he deftly (and comically) acknowledges the forces that led to President Obama's election while skewering liberals who supported him and conservatives who didn't.
So appropriate to read--after all I read it during Black History month.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Quick rundown
Forgetting one's password means that posting is difficult. . . no impossible. I hate that every site has different rules for passwords, making it difficult for meto keep up with all of my passwords. So, maybe what that means is that I should post more often. But I've been busy. A new Nook for Christmas means that I've been reading my share, but also doing other things. Either way, here goes the quick update.
Pledged: The Secret Life of Sororities. It's everything I always suspected. Most sororities are filled with superficial girls who drink and screw more than they study. But the author somehow infiltrated some of the national sororities and gave lots of information that is not available to us who weren't so cute or rich (or white) in college. The black sororities are portrayed relatively positively. The author acknowledges that some have been guilty of hazing, but focuses on the fact that service is an important part of the experience, more so than pre-gaming (drinking before the party) and partying. Perhaps the saddest thing is the black coed who rushed the white sororities at one of the Southern schools (Alabama?). She's everything that should make her a viable candidate,except her color. She's rejected by every single sorority the first year, and then with pressure on the sororities from the administration and support from that same administration, she tries again the next year. The result is the same. Why??? I wish I could have said to her, "Have some pride!"
Anyway, it was light easy reading.
Body of Work, by Christine Montross. This book made me a bit schizophrenic. On the one hand, it made me feel like a kid again, paying chicken with the gross-out factor. On the other hand, I felt like an inquisitive, mature adult, learning about the training that occurs with doctors. In short, this book chronicles the author's first year of medical school, with a primary focus on gross anatomy. Of course, that's the class where med students disect a cadaver. Montross gives sufficiently intricate detail abut the class itself, while interweaving her research findings on hunan cadaver disection, the attitudes of laypeople, and the training and attitudes of medical students in other countries. Along the way, we learn bits and pieces about her cadaver, whom she and her fellow students have named "Eve" because for reasons that they are never able to determine, she has no belly button. As a bonus, she talks about some of the structures of the human body. I found myself feeling around my own body for the landmarks Montross describes.
I gained a new appreciation for the challenge of first year med school as well as the challenge of learning everything in a complex structure like the human body. I feel some urge to donate my body, but I'm not quite ready to take the step of making the actual arrangements. Nonetheless, I had the stomach (and lots of other parts) to finish the book.
Blood Feud, by Kathleen Sharp. Greed knoweth no bounds. That's plenty evident in this book which traces the marketing of the drug Pro-Crit. I vaguely remember the TV ads that used to run, advertising this medicine that would increase production of red blood cells, giving chemo patients more energy. The ads gave hope that one could get through chemo and not suffer as much.
What Johnson & Johnson omitted was that it was pushing the drug for usse in a way that had little research behind it regarding safe dosing levels for use in cancer patients. Rather, J&J pushed doctors to use higher and higher doses.
The marketing of ProCrit for cancer patients was just the tip of the iceberg. J&J didn't invent ProCrit--it was a licensee, subject to a market sharing agreement, which J&J breached with impunity. The inventor reserved for itself the dialysis market, but J&J found ingenious ways to steal customers.
And then there's the kickback scheme, that allowed everyone--doctors, the commissioned sales people, and of course J&J to profit at the expense of the taxpayers.
The story is told mostly from the perspective of one of J&J's salesmen, who started as a superstar and ended as a pariah, and in the process, he brought down his closest friend in the company.
The book provides a fascinating look at the way big pharma morkets its drugs.
Hot Lights,Cold Steel,by Michael Collins. As I am solidly in my "I'm fascinated with medical school" phase, this book fit right in. Collins recounts his four-year residency as an orthopod at the Mayo Clinic. He starts out as an insecure first year resident, unfamiliar witht he jargon of his chosen specialty, and ends as a chief resident. He recounts the tragedies and the victories (such that they are) of memorable patients, including the 40-something woman who learned she had breast cancer when she came in because of pain in her hip--the cancer had already metastasized, leaving her only a couple of months to live. There's the tragic teenager who had a rare form of cancer that required the amputation of half of her pelvis. Would that we all had such a positive outlook on life as that girl, who focused not what she didn't have, but what she did have.
On Call: A Doctor's Days and Nights in Residency, by Emily Transue. Like Hot Lights, Transue recounts her years of residency. Hers is in Seattle, in internal medicine. Transue's book is not as well written, but it is still englightening given that she faces a broader range of patients with different needs. Like Collins, she's fatigued, but there are patients that are memorable and who have a profound effect on Transue. Consequently, while the book is not quite as engaging as Hot Lights, it is more deeply personal; one can see Transue grow as a doctor and grow in maturity and understanding of herself. Good read.
Pledged: The Secret Life of Sororities. It's everything I always suspected. Most sororities are filled with superficial girls who drink and screw more than they study. But the author somehow infiltrated some of the national sororities and gave lots of information that is not available to us who weren't so cute or rich (or white) in college. The black sororities are portrayed relatively positively. The author acknowledges that some have been guilty of hazing, but focuses on the fact that service is an important part of the experience, more so than pre-gaming (drinking before the party) and partying. Perhaps the saddest thing is the black coed who rushed the white sororities at one of the Southern schools (Alabama?). She's everything that should make her a viable candidate,except her color. She's rejected by every single sorority the first year, and then with pressure on the sororities from the administration and support from that same administration, she tries again the next year. The result is the same. Why??? I wish I could have said to her, "Have some pride!"
Anyway, it was light easy reading.
Body of Work, by Christine Montross. This book made me a bit schizophrenic. On the one hand, it made me feel like a kid again, paying chicken with the gross-out factor. On the other hand, I felt like an inquisitive, mature adult, learning about the training that occurs with doctors. In short, this book chronicles the author's first year of medical school, with a primary focus on gross anatomy. Of course, that's the class where med students disect a cadaver. Montross gives sufficiently intricate detail abut the class itself, while interweaving her research findings on hunan cadaver disection, the attitudes of laypeople, and the training and attitudes of medical students in other countries. Along the way, we learn bits and pieces about her cadaver, whom she and her fellow students have named "Eve" because for reasons that they are never able to determine, she has no belly button. As a bonus, she talks about some of the structures of the human body. I found myself feeling around my own body for the landmarks Montross describes.
I gained a new appreciation for the challenge of first year med school as well as the challenge of learning everything in a complex structure like the human body. I feel some urge to donate my body, but I'm not quite ready to take the step of making the actual arrangements. Nonetheless, I had the stomach (and lots of other parts) to finish the book.
Blood Feud, by Kathleen Sharp. Greed knoweth no bounds. That's plenty evident in this book which traces the marketing of the drug Pro-Crit. I vaguely remember the TV ads that used to run, advertising this medicine that would increase production of red blood cells, giving chemo patients more energy. The ads gave hope that one could get through chemo and not suffer as much.
What Johnson & Johnson omitted was that it was pushing the drug for usse in a way that had little research behind it regarding safe dosing levels for use in cancer patients. Rather, J&J pushed doctors to use higher and higher doses.
The marketing of ProCrit for cancer patients was just the tip of the iceberg. J&J didn't invent ProCrit--it was a licensee, subject to a market sharing agreement, which J&J breached with impunity. The inventor reserved for itself the dialysis market, but J&J found ingenious ways to steal customers.
And then there's the kickback scheme, that allowed everyone--doctors, the commissioned sales people, and of course J&J to profit at the expense of the taxpayers.
The story is told mostly from the perspective of one of J&J's salesmen, who started as a superstar and ended as a pariah, and in the process, he brought down his closest friend in the company.
The book provides a fascinating look at the way big pharma morkets its drugs.
Hot Lights,Cold Steel,by Michael Collins. As I am solidly in my "I'm fascinated with medical school" phase, this book fit right in. Collins recounts his four-year residency as an orthopod at the Mayo Clinic. He starts out as an insecure first year resident, unfamiliar witht he jargon of his chosen specialty, and ends as a chief resident. He recounts the tragedies and the victories (such that they are) of memorable patients, including the 40-something woman who learned she had breast cancer when she came in because of pain in her hip--the cancer had already metastasized, leaving her only a couple of months to live. There's the tragic teenager who had a rare form of cancer that required the amputation of half of her pelvis. Would that we all had such a positive outlook on life as that girl, who focused not what she didn't have, but what she did have.
On Call: A Doctor's Days and Nights in Residency, by Emily Transue. Like Hot Lights, Transue recounts her years of residency. Hers is in Seattle, in internal medicine. Transue's book is not as well written, but it is still englightening given that she faces a broader range of patients with different needs. Like Collins, she's fatigued, but there are patients that are memorable and who have a profound effect on Transue. Consequently, while the book is not quite as engaging as Hot Lights, it is more deeply personal; one can see Transue grow as a doctor and grow in maturity and understanding of herself. Good read.
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