An affecting, candid recollection about the human costs of medical research.
A doctor recounts his harrowing experience treating children with leukemia.
In 1964, Dr. G. Bennet Humphrey worked in the leukemia ward at the National Institute of Health in Maryland and was tasked with administering a drug protocol called POMP, an initialism that captured the four drugs it included: prednisolone, Oncovin, methotrexate, and Purinethol. While POMP could send leukemia into remission, effectively curing patients previously considered terminal, it also delivered debilitating side effects: toxicity, nausea, vomiting, bleeding, and infections, and it sometimes could result in fatality. Nevertheless, the author and his two colleagues, Dr. Gerald Sandler and Dr. Rick Lottsfeldt, were ordered by their supervisor, Dr. Emil “Jay” Freireich, to press on with the treatment. In some cases, in order to protect their patients from the effects of POMP, they violated protocol. The anguish of seeing young children suffer because of a treatment they loathed took an emotional toll on Humphrey and his colleagues: “I was tired of writing orders that could cause toxicity, tired of looking for toxicity all week long, tired of finding toxicity, and tired of watching patients die of toxicity.” The author details the year he spent working in pediatric oncology and discusses not only his clinical experience, but also the relationships he forged with his young patients and their parents, the friendships made with his two colleagues, and the diversions he turned to for solace from the pain of being a daily witness to suffering. Humphrey writes with impressive clarity even when discussing highly technical medical matters, and he poignantly expresses the visceral challenges of his work. He also adds another personal layer to the story by chronicling his romantic life at the time and the loneliness he felt but could not adequately communicate to others. The author’s remembrance is as moving as it is scientifically edifying.
An affecting, candid recollection about the human costs of medical research.Pub Date: Aug. 16, 2016
ISBN: 978-0-9977028-0-4
Page Count: 336
Publisher: CreateSpace
Review Posted Online: Oct. 20, 2017
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
From the national correspondent for PBS's MacNeil-Lehrer Newshour: a moving memoir of her youth in the Deep South and her role in desegregating the Univ. of Georgia. The eldest daughter of an army chaplain, Hunter-Gault was born in what she calls the ``first of many places that I would call `my place' ''—the small village of Due West, tucked away in a remote little corner of South Carolina. While her father served in Korea, Hunter-Gault and her mother moved first to Covington, Georgia, and then to Atlanta. In ``L.A.'' (lovely Atlanta), surrounded by her loving family and a close-knit black community, the author enjoyed a happy childhood participating in activities at church and at school, where her intellectual and leadership abilities soon were noticed by both faculty and peers. In high school, Hunter-Gault found herself studying the ``comic-strip character Brenda Starr as I might have studied a journalism textbook, had there been one.'' Determined to be a journalist, she applied to several colleges—all outside of Georgia, for ``to discourage the possibility that a black student would even think of applying to one of those white schools, the state provided money for black students'' to study out of state. Accepted at Michigan's Wayne State, the author was encouraged by local civil-rights leaders to apply, along with another classmate, to the Univ. of Georgia as well. Her application became a test of changing racial attitudes, as well as of the growing strength of the civil-rights movement in the South, and Gault became a national figure as she braved an onslaught of hostilities and harassment to become the first black woman to attend the university. A remarkably generous, fair-minded account of overcoming some of the biggest, and most intractable, obstacles ever deployed by southern racists. (Photographs—not seen.)
Pub Date: Nov. 1, 1992
ISBN: 0-374-17563-2
Page Count: 192
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 1, 1992
Necessarily swift and adumbrative as well as inclusive, focused, and graceful.
A light-speed tour of (mostly) Western poetry, from the 4,000-year-old Gilgamesh to the work of Australian poet Les Murray, who died in 2019.
In the latest entry in the publisher’s Little Histories series, Carey, an emeritus professor at Oxford whose books include What Good Are the Arts? and The Unexpected Professor: An Oxford Life in Books, offers a quick definition of poetry—“relates to language as music relates to noise. It is language made special”—before diving in to poetry’s vast history. In most chapters, the author deals with only a few writers, but as the narrative progresses, he finds himself forced to deal with far more than a handful. In his chapter on 20th-century political poets, for example, he talks about 14 writers in seven pages. Carey displays a determination to inform us about who the best poets were—and what their best poems were. The word “greatest” appears continually; Chaucer was “the greatest medieval English poet,” and Langston Hughes was “the greatest male poet” of the Harlem Renaissance. For readers who need a refresher—or suggestions for the nightstand—Carey provides the best-known names and the most celebrated poems, including Paradise Lost (about which the author has written extensively), “Kubla Khan,” “Ozymandias,” “The Charge of the Light Brigade,” Wordsworth and Coleridge’s Lyrical Ballads, which “changed the course of English poetry.” Carey explains some poetic technique (Hopkins’ “sprung rhythm”) and pauses occasionally to provide autobiographical tidbits—e.g., John Masefield, who wrote the famous “Sea Fever,” “hated the sea.” We learn, as well, about the sexuality of some poets (Auden was bisexual), and, especially later on, Carey discusses the demons that drove some of them, Robert Lowell and Sylvia Plath among them. Refreshingly, he includes many women in the volume—all the way back to Sappho—and has especially kind words for Marianne Moore and Elizabeth Bishop, who share a chapter.
Necessarily swift and adumbrative as well as inclusive, focused, and graceful.Pub Date: April 21, 2020
ISBN: 978-0-300-23222-6
Page Count: 304
Publisher: Yale Univ.
Review Posted Online: Feb. 8, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2020
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