Lindsay Fitzharris has written a book that is both grisly and disgusting but really, really good. It was well written, and she damn well did her research, as the final 50 pages of references attest. It made me squirm in discomfort and horror and I loved every page of it.
The Butchering Art is the heroic story of Joseph Lister, the man who introduced the use of antiseptics to the medical community in Edinburgh, Scotland, then to London, England, then to the world. As a child, Lister was fascinated with his father's microscope. Later, when he entered the [utterly insane] field of surgery, he used the microscope to identify microbes responsible for causing post-surgical infections that were literally killing entire hospital units full of patients. Lister experimented with a variety of chemical antiseptics, wound dressings, and stitching materials, and eventually revolutionized the world of medicine. The guy was a genius, and made every surgeon before him look like a complete idiot. They weren't too happy about that, but had to eventually adopt his practices because, quite simply, they worked.
This book is not for the faint of heart or the weak of stomach. Fitzharris provides the most awful details about the most revolting surgical practices common in Victorian-era medicine. She tells you more than you ever wanted to know, and proves once again that truth is indeed stranger than fiction. This was better than any horror fiction ever written. (Sorry, Mr. King, but I still love ya.)
I was thoroughly disgusted and totally riveted, and I fully intend to make this book part of my permanent collection.
Lindsay, send me a signed copy! It would make my day!
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