I first read Richard Selzer years ago, in college, and really liked him. I remember appreciating a cold... well, surgical style to his prose.
This time around, it was more of a mixed bag. On the one hand, I actually found his prose to be a little too cute and self-conscious for my taste, a far cry from my recollection. On the other, the themes--death, fragility, uncertainty, the hubris of daily life--aren't as exotic to me in my early thirties as they were when I was twenty. Neutralizing some of the awe around the subject matter helped open it up.
There are strong images in many of the essays here: the exotic fruit of cancer in "Tube Feeding" and the world-replacing sludge filling the thoracic cavity in "Sarcophagus" spring to mind. I even enjoyed the extended metaphor of the January, whose “cargo is typhus,” spewing disease in its wake on the Tennessee, Ohio, and Mississippi Rivers, itself getting sicker all the way, in "Pages From a Wound-Dresser's Diary." I didn't think I would.
Still, just three stars for me. Some day I'll have to read Mortal Lessons for that good antiseptic voice.