Repetitive, somewhat circular pleading weakens the case, but Singh’s thesis merits discussion for anyone interested in...
A well-intended but imperfectly constructed argument for community-based health care by a physician-turned–medical activist.
The Affordable Care Act of 2010, or Obamacare in shorthand, is a frequent target for the corporate right, offended at the thought that medicine should not be the profit center that, say, oil and copper afford. It is less often criticized by the left, which lends Singh’s (Arnhold Global Health Center, Mount Sinai) critique an interesting cry-in-the-wilderness quality. The author works from a by-now-quaint notion that the physician is the advocate for the patient and, more, that a doctor is a kind of “natural attorney for the poor.” In this advocacy, the physician must leverage existing networks not of insurers but of friends, neighbors, and family. Obesity, for instance, is a widespread problem everywhere in the United States but especially in poor neighborhoods, where nutrition is indifferent and healthy food not easily accessible. In such an instance, promoting good health practices to any effective measure involves remaking the community as much as the individual. Singh’s arguments against a health care regime “imbalanced in favor of technocrats and captains of industry” are very well-placed, as is his critique of ACA for, among other things, not including communities in health care planning or considering the neighborhood as a natural political unit; no one is better positioned to advance these arguments. Yet he is long in the diagnosis and short in the healing. While he states in many ways the basic notion that neighborhoods need to be engaged in health care, that community-based medicine needs to be made a priority, he is less cogent in advancing specific ways in which we can move toward “total population health,” as one of his chapter titles puts it, and shift medicine away from its current corporatized model.
Repetitive, somewhat circular pleading weakens the case, but Singh’s thesis merits discussion for anyone interested in curing a sick health care system.Pub Date: Sept. 11, 2016
ISBN: 978-1-4214-2044-8
Page Count: 312
Publisher: Johns Hopkins Univ.
Review Posted Online: June 29, 2016
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 15, 2016
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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