F. Gonzalez-Crussi
Suspended Animation: Six Essays on the Preservation of Bodily Parts (1995)
Author: F. Gonzalez-Crussi
Genre: Essays/Reflections (Rescued Histories)/ Science (Anatomy)
Book Summary:
In a collection of meditative essays that build upon each other, Gonzalez-Crussi explores a variety of anatomical and otherwise medical phenomena. Beginning with a discourse on the nature of conception (which anecdotally allows the author to relate his experiences as a young pathology intern who first grapples with the Catholic church's view on handling products of conception -- one decidedly different from his medical school training) and branching off into a discussion of cultural approaches to disposing of the placenta after birth has occurred, the reader may feel afloat in the wandering mind of a most learned physician. Occasional moments of tangential musing aside, each essay ponders the thin precipice traipsed by philosophers of the ancient world and anatomists of modern day. Arcane as the subject matter may be, it still serves to titillate the reader's senses as Gonzalez-Crussi considers everything from the origins of life (is the spermotazoa more or less important than the egg?) to the cruel reality of genetic mutation (wherein the debate rises between science's view of malformation as disease and a more theodical view of a vengeful god). Most substantially, however, Suspended Animation frames its essays around discussions of the history of anatomical exploration, from the halls of Europe's most ancient university at Bologna, to cabinets of curiosity developed by such venerable figures as Frederik Ruysch, to the advent of wax anatomical models crafted in Italy. Complemented by the photographs of Rosamond Purcell, Gonzalez-Crussi's ruminations on such preservation of bodily parts (ranging, historically, from brandy based fixatives to the aforementioned wax creations) share a common thread, that for which we stare with mouths agape as easily as we turn away in embarrassment. The reader is also taken on a global journey, from Compultense University in Madrid (where the anatomical museum serves as a conduit for Gonzalez-Crussi's discussion of various torture techniques and a phrenological examination of Erasmus's need to wear an oversized beret) to Bologna and beyond, seamlessly juxtaposing historical views of the human body with contemporary medical practice. Along the way, the reader is left to contemplate what man has gained from the study of anatomy and whether religion has helped or hindered the progression of medical science.
Geographical Setting: Madrid, Spain; Bologna, Italy; Amsterdam, The Netherlands; Mexico; United States of America
Time Period: Contemporary (1995) [Note: while the author's essays reflect a contemporary view of the history of the study of anatomy, anecdotes throughout reflect a time period spanning many centuries of philosophical and medical exploration.]
Appeal Characteristics:
Unquestionably, initial interest in Suspended Animation may stem from its unusual subject matter. Curious readers may be drawn to the macabre, bizarre topics discussed or by the accompanying photos of encephalitic skulls or highly detailed wax anatomical models. Moving beyond the surface level attraction, however, reveals an essayist with a highly skilled use of language peppered with frequently humorous personal anecdotes, both of which aid to invoke curiosity in the reader. Gonzalez-Crussi writes with an unquestionably measured pace. His sentence structure and word choice (readers will likely want to have a dictionary on hand) are as deliberate as they are compelling. A book whose intent within seems to nudge the reader along to read start to finish (and one whose overall length is easily digestible in a leisurely afternoon), it also has a deceptively expedient pace (in spite of the idiomatic construction). The author's approach, though, is both candid (in a rather matter of fact style, Gonzalez-Crussi has, at times, an almost banal approach to the unusual, one that surprisingly keeps the reader engaged throughout), conversational, and stylistically complex. The prosaic, sophisticated manner in which historical details (and historical figures' eccentricities) are presented serve to embellish the overall effect. Filled with rich, historical details (the description of Ruysch's home filled with jars of preserved limbs and walls filled with skeletons vividly places the reader at his side) and a curiously exotic, evocative tone, Suspended Animation presents both a richly layered view of the history of anatomical discovery as well as a series of intriguing historical figures with no shortage of idiosyncratic behaviors (Diogenes turning away a courtesan by exclaiming, "my hand arrived at the hymeneal celebration earlier than you," will likely have the reader both laughing and scratching his or her head at the same time). With a first person narrative, the essays engage the reader in a conversation with the author as he relates anatomical history with his own experience in the field of medicine. Rosamond Purcell's accompanying photographs (which will entice the reader but are not inherently necessary to the text) complement both the scientific theory conveyed as well as the sense of curiosity created within. While Gonzalez-Crussi clearly has come to some conclusions about the advent of medical discovery as it relates to modern day society, he leaves many topics open-ended, providing the reader with ample evidence on either side of a controversial topic and allowing the reader to begin his or her own intellectual discovery.
Read-alikes: Undoubtedly, readers who enjoyed the unusual subject matter of anatomical discovery, Gonzalez-Crussi's mastery of the written language, and the close, conversational style of Suspended Animation, will likely wish to pursue one of his other works. Thematically, Notes of an Anatomist, an award winning series of essays that follows the same anecdotal style and wealth of historical anatomical history told in a conversational tone, would be an appropriate next choice. In yet another series of essays, Notes of an Anatomist allows the author, then a practicing pathologist, to ponder such topics as embalming, myasis, teratology, and the occurrence of twins. For readers whose introduction to eccentric historical figures such as Frederik Ruysch is not yet sated, who enjoyed the consistent intellectual narrative, and quite simply, have a keen interest in the subject of collecting objects of curiosity in the historical sense and yearn for more exotic discovery, Stephen Jay Gould and Rosamond Wolff Purcell's Finders Keepers: Eight Collectors will prove both engaging and evocative. With more photographic detail than Suspended Animation, Gould's essays explore historical collections of such luminaries as Ruysch, Peter the Great, van Heurn, and others, revealing a sense of beauty and a fascination with the most unusual. Readers who are fascinated with the exotic subject matter of natural anomalies and medical history told in a ribald, yet vivid detail, but would like more historical depth would certainly be drawn to Rosamond Purcell's Special Cases. Filled with historical images and medical museum displays (in addition to the author's own photographs), this book explores what it is to be an anomalous creation, providing a wealth of information on the history of medical monstrosity, with an intriguing blend of science and philosophy. For curious readers who relished Gonzalez-Crussi's exploration of anomalous medical history and enjoyed the complex style and historical detail but would like a Renaissance account of human attitudes toward "nature's lapses," the Janis L. Pallister translation of Ambroise Pare's 16th century classic, On Monsters and Marvels, would prove both challenging and enlightening. Pare, a chief surgeon to both Charles IX and Henri III, developed this illustrated encyclopedic look at the curiosities and monstrous phenomena of both man and animal, providing the modern reader with a philosophical Renaissance view of natural oddities. Readers who found Gonzalez-Crussi's essayist style engaging, both in tone and depth of detail, and enjoyed his philosophical ponderings on such a wide array of topics (medically related and otherwise), but would prefer a more casual, almost quizzical approach, would find Thomas Lynch's The Undertaking: Life Stories from the Dismal Trade a surprising find. In a collection of essays, funeral director Lynch ruminates on his own life history, using it as a conduit through which discussions on life, death, and even musings on the advent of indoor plumbing, take place.
Red Flags: Vivid detail concerning the spectacle of anatomical theatres, human deformities, preservation of bodily parts, and human conception
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