You'll have to overlook the subtitle which bears down harder than a conscientious primipara since Dr. Sweeney (Cornell-New York Hospital) has written not only a warm and intimate book but also a funny, sentimental (""I'm a real slob""), blunt and unfailingly interesting one which is just as urgent as the real life and death procedures with which he deals every day. Whether it's managing to keep alive a premature baby for a woman over 40 who had lost three, or telling a youngster of 16 she has cancer of the vagina (her mother had taken too much Stilhesterol) or. . . or. . . or. . . answering the phone in the middle of the night because a young woman had forgot to take her pill, or listening to a patient who reads Dr. Reuben's book which is full of straight errors. From babies to cancer, cancer, cancer (Dr. Sweeney has phased out the former to deal primarily with surgery) there's a lot about all those affiliated areas -- hypnosis, infertility, abortion, the menopause, etc. A much better book than the last on the subject -- Dr. Anonymous' staid if not stillborn Confessions of a Gynecologist (1972) -- in fact Dr. Sweeney is the nicest medic met since that surgeon made himself into a bestseller. Actually he's less self-serving and more genuinely in touch than Dr. Nolen proved to be. Page him.