I received a review copy from the publisher. This did not affect my review, and what follows is my unvarnished and honest perspective.
Well, there goes Sam Kean doing Sam Kean things again. For those unfamiliar, Kean’s books generally go like this: take a scientific element (e.g., the periodic table, genetics, the brain), stir in a plethora of sometimes seemingly disconnected anecdotes, case studies, and episodes of historical significance that ultimately bake up into a pretty deliciously coherent cake, add a generous dollop of dad jokes and, boom, Bob’s your uncle—you’ve got a pretty great read that will make you an unstoppable conversational force at the next party you attend (well, back when parties were things we attended).
Kean’s last book, The Bastard Brigade, deviated from that formula, though he mostly returns to it, albeit painting on a broader palette, with Icepick Surgeon. Instead of a particular focal point within the scientific realm, however, he surveys the profession of science as a whole for instances of individuals prioritizing science, discovery, or fame, fortune, and notoriety over ethics and rigorous (albeit often tedious) data collection.
Needless to say, things can get a little dark. I mean, what else do you expect when you’ve got the “Johnny Appleseed of psychosurgery” running about hither, thither, and yon, lobotomizing people with cheerfully reckless abandon, lopping off pieces of brain like an enthusiastic new homeowner attacking a problematic hedge with top-of-the-line garden shears. Toss in grave robbers disinterring fresh corpses for greedy doctors; Nazis; torture; the Tuskegee Study; and the psychological battering of a timid gent by the name of Ted Kaczynski (perhaps you’ve heard of him?) and you’ve got quite the mix of scoundrels, ne’er-do-wells, and unethical boundary pushers.
Confession: coming off such an exceedingly dark and challenging 18 months (I split a pair of pants, lost my lucky quarter, got a pretty mean papercut…oh, and there’s that whole global pandemic thing, racial injustice, environmental catastrophes, and murder hornets), this was a heavier read than I was hoping for (if you want something quite literally lighter, check out Kean’s incandescently brilliant Caesar’s Last Breath). Still, Kean deftly navigates some of the book’s most morally thorny quandaries and, as always, there is more interesting and engaging information packed in here than an entire set of encyclopedias (dating myself much*?).
This is an extremely worthy addition to your “interesting books on sinister topics” bookshelf. And if you don’t have one of those, you really should.
*Sometimes you have to date yourself because no one else will