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288 pages, Hardcover
First published September 16, 2025

It’s another photograph of the penis [transplanted from the owner's middle finger], now with a rustic ceramic pitcher hanging off of it. Exactly as you or I could put a hand out, palm up, and hang a pitcher off our middle finger. The pitcher is hand-painted, white with a red and green floral pattern. I’m picturing the man and his partner again, this time having lunch in the kitchen. A little iced tea, my love?--------------------------------------
Eventually the day arrives when no further breach is possible. Mr. Baron, wrote his doctor, Richard Martland, “was now informed, the only chance for saving his life was by making an artificial anus . . . the inconveniences resulting from such operation, were candidly pointed out to him.” Mrs. White, on the occasion of her twelfth day without a bowel movement, is presented with the same proposition. Both patients consented. Or rather, as Pring put it, “did not violently object.” And so it went. “An opening was now made . . . and instantly a large quantity of liquid feces and wind escaped,” Martland wrote. Both doctors were impressed by the force with which the matter was expelled, with Pring taking additional note of the “considerable distance” traveled. - There was no mention of a fan in the vicinity.This book certainly lends new meaning to the expression "an heir and a spare."

A formal “miniature swine development” project got underway in 1949, a collaboration between two Minnesota powerhouses, the Mayo Foundation (research arm of the Mayo Clinic) and the Hormel Institute (research arm of pork).There are sections on the replacement, or enhancement, of sexual organs. One of the opening quotes of this review notes a particular form of actual, not kidding, replacement for a male member. Female anatomy comes in for a bit of consideration as well.
Dow Corning…made the first silicone breast implant, circa 1961, this one at the urging of Texas plastic surgeon Thomas Cronin. Cronin had been “inspired by the look and feel of a bag of blood.” It is hard for me not to picture the scene: Cronin standing around the OR, idly gazing at a bag hanging on a transfusion pole and turning to a colleague: Hey. Does that remind you of something? Cronin contacted Dow, and his resident, Frank Gerow, implanted some prototypes into dogs. The team were “excited” by the outcome—and again, stop me from picturing this.Continuing downstairs…
Who looks at the human digestive tract and thinks, Moist, tubular, stretchy . . . Might that make a reasonable vagina?Some, apparently. The derriere comes in for a long look as well. Part of this is a consideration of the changing fashions in tush shape, stretching from sane to anime.
My donor site is smeared with bacitracin, but no gauze is taped in place, because my hair would get stuck. On the flight home, I will feel the back of my head start to ooze. Do you fly Southwest? Don’t sit in 11B.She delves into the growth industry of 3D printing of bodily materials. It turns out that it is not so simple as it might seem. Each muscle and organ has particular abilities and behaviors that are very difficult to replicate, involving twisting, contracting, and reacting to incoming messaging from the brain. The Star Trek replicator might do a great job of producing “Earl Grey, hot,” but fabricating people-pieces is proving a much more complex undertaking than sci-fi writers imagined.
Nana takes a seat at Kuzanov’s desk and starts opening files on his computer desktop. After a few false starts, she locates a folder of photographs documenting a finger transplant performed on a cancer patient. Most of the man’s penis had been amputated, leaving him unable to do two of the things most men like to do with their penis: penetrate and pee while standing. The surgery would restore both. - She missed one.Review posted - 09/19/25
I grew up in a small house in Etna, New Hampshire. My neighbors taught me how to drive a Skidoo and shoot a rifle, though I never made much use of these skills. I graduated from Wesleyan in 1981 and drove out to San Francisco with some friends. I spent a couple years working as a freelance copy editor before landing a half-time PR job at the SF Zoo. On the days when I wasn't there in my little cubicle in the trailer behind Gorilla World, I freelanced articles for the Sunday magazine of the local newspaper. One by one, my editors would move on to bigger publications and take me along with them. In the late 1990s, magazines began to sputter out and travel budgets evaporated, and so I switched to books.Interviews
People call me a science writer, though I don't have a science degree and sometimes have to fake my way through interviews with experts I can't understand.
I have no hobbies. I mostly just work on my books and hang out with my family and friends. I enjoy bird-watching (though the hours don't agree with me), hiking, backpacking, overseas supermarkets, Scrabble, mangoes, and that late-night "Animal Planet" show about horrific animals such as the parasitic worm that attaches itself to fishes' eyeballs but makes up for it by leading the fish around.