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The Jewish Doctor is aimed at a general Jewish readership that would wish an entree into the specialized literature on the history of medical practice among the Jewish people. In format, it is mostly a series of fablelike stories about past Jewish physicians. The first half consists of brief biographic sketches of about 20 premodern Jewish physicians in a rough historic order, from the seventh-century writer Asaph, to early medievals Isaac Judaeus and Moses Maimonides, then to lesser knowns before the age of enlightenment. They are shown to have been physicians of fame, influence, and erudition, talented writers, polemicists, moralists, and defenders of their faith, who remained devoted to their calling under personal threat and adverse social conditions. These doctor stories are taken from Harry Friedenwald's The Jews and Medicine , Harry Savitz' Profiles of Erudite Jewish Physicians and Scholars , and others, which are slavishly abstracted, paraphrased, and quoted. The second

Diagnostic Atlas of the Heart is an impressive opus of magnificent technology and erudition. By using conceptual originality, the editors have succeeded in offering a new technique of learning. Superbly colored illustrations—a major modern printing achievement—vividly express at the beginning of each chapter the fundamentals of the anatomy of the heart. Then, basic elements of physiology, clinical manifestations, and diagnostic testing complete the overall evaluation of a disease. Wisely, the editors have chosen to completely eliminate treatment, concentrating on the basic aspects of diagnosis. The continuous proliferation of cardiovascular drugs makes it difficult to choose the newest and best, but the correct treatment could easily be found in any manual. The greatest challenge to the practicing physician is in obtaining a correct diagnosis. Moreover, because of the time it takes to publish a book, it is difficult to update therapeutic advancements in a text. This text has 27 chapters, written

This cardiology "Text/Reference" is an impressive opus of magnificent technology and erudition. It is a hardbound edition of the looseleaf Cardiology , edited by W. W. Parmley and K. Chatterjee, published in 1987 and updated yearly. The book's two volumes— Physiology, Pharmacology, Diagnosis and Cardiovascular Disease —are divided into six sections, with an editor responsible for each. Both volumes bring to the reader recent developments in cardiology, presenting the pathophysiology of heart disease, the latest technology, and newer methods of treatment in a simple and concise manner. More than 150 authors, all experts in their fields, have contributed, and the volumes are superbly illustrated with color photographs, tables, and graphs. One of the strengths of the text is the personal approach of each author to a specific topic and the evenhandedness employed in dealing with controversial topics. Take, for example, the usefulness of vasodilator drugs in congestive heart failure. In a

The literature of multiple sclerosis is distinguished by several features: it is enormous; it is multidisciplinary, venturing into the fields of virology, immunology, clinical neurophysiology, neuropathology, experimental pathology, and psychology, to name just a few; it is controversial; and it has, unfortunately, led to little new in our understanding of its pathogenesis or etiology. Because of these problems, it is necessary from time to time, to attempt to collate, codify, and, if possible, clarify this vast amount of published and unpublished material. The authors of this latest attempt are eminently qualified to do just what is necessary and have assembled a group of experts from many centers to try to bring order to the chaos. The amount of information contained in this book is truly stupendous and it can unquestionably be called a state-of-the-art compendium. Many points of view are represented, many theories are discussed with candor and erudition, but

Sir Aubrey Lewis, LLD, DSc, MD, FRCP, FRCPsych, lately emeritus professor of psychiatry, University of London, formerly of the Institute of Psychiatry, was a distinguished and important English psychiatrist. Two volumes of his collected works were published shortly after his retirement in 1966. This group of 24 articles was written between his retirement and his death in 1975. They are primarily essays in the history of psychiatry and are characterized by superb erudition and a deep understanding of his profession and its roots, written in elegant English. He once wrote, "The humanities cannot, by definition, be classified as sciences but history and ethics and, in the long run, philosophy are branches of knowledge from which medicine draws sustenance. This is particularly true of their relation to psychiatry." The articles are introduced by Michael Shepherd, and there is a bibliography of Sir Aubrey's articles for 1926 to 1978. It will not

In a volume that will prove to be a watershed in the modern literature of bioethics, Tristram Engelhardt, perhaps the preeminent philosopher of medicine working today, argues for a public biomedical ethic that would be characterized by toleration, peace, liberty of expression, and absence of coercion of any sort. He presents his thesis with erudition and passion: ... one might ask under what circumstances there could ever be a peaceable union of peoples of the earth, save through acquiescing in the policy that persons may do with themselves and consenting others whatever they wish, despite what others might think and feel in the matter. The former Rosemary Kennedy Professor at Georgetown, Washington, DC, and now Professor of Medicine at Baylor College of Medicine, Houston, proceeds to elucidate this philosophical theory and operational ethic as it bears on such questions as abortion, infanticide, and euthanasia. It is a bold and provocative book

Originally published in 1945, Temkin's history of epilepsy has been the definitive work on the subject. It not only gave a detailed historical account of the disease with great erudition, but it also cast light on the entire history of medicine. Indeed, when we investigate one aspect thoroughly enough, we can gain insight into the whole. The study of a single disease in sufficient depth can involve the entire course of medical history—its changing theory and practice, its progressive differentiations and discriminations, its therapeutic successes, its religious and social aspects—and can represent a microcosm through which we may penetrate to the macrocosm. And so it is with the history of epilepsy as Temkin has given it to us. He has placed the disease, with all its complex meanings, into a very broad context, nothing less than Western civilization. The book had been out of print far too long. The new

Mr. President and Colleagues: I stand here today by appointment in the place of the late Dr. Jerome Cochran of Montgomery, Alabama, whose preeminence in the science of preventive medicine easily singled him out from among his fellows, as peculiarly fitted to deliver the annual oration in State Medicine. His vast erudition, extended experience, and long public service made him facile princeps in all matters relating to sanitary work. Few have spoken with better right, or with greater authority. This is not the proper place to pronounce the eulogy of Jerome Cochran; that was done in this hall yesterday, but the world knows of his life and his work. The laws of Alabama which furnish us today the best model for Medical Legislation in other States, were largely the handiwork of Dr. Cochran, and the medical profession of that State is under enduring obligations to his memory. It was my

Among the various consequences of organic and functional disturbance of the nervous system with which we are called upon to deal, what is technically known as vertigo is surely one of the most common. Often insidious in its advent, obscure as to ultimate pathology, in its treatment baffling, it has come to be regarded as a most slippery adversary, a kind of ignis fatuus of the clinic, at the view of whose antics and illusive ways erudition and experience stand aghast. Yet despite the unsatisfactory condition of present knowledge, there is no denying the eminent practical importance of the subject. Consider for a moment the amount of apprehension and annoyance caused by the symptom itself; then its frequency, as an accompaniment or sequence of the most disparate pathological conditions, and you will concede, I think, that a warrant is provided, sufficient to justify a careful sifting of available data, an

I know a man of marked erudition who wrote a book on the primitive religions. His opening paragraph is as follows: "The facts in this book are true." There is more common sense than rhetoric in this remark. We are all liable to be mistaken in our estimate of conditions. Too many statements are accepted as true simply because frequent unchallenged repetition has made us believe there is no possibility of contradiction. Continued reiteration dulls the sense of perception and discourages investigation. Moreover, social conditions change, laws become obsolete, public opinion varies and our appreciation of justice is often irrational and selfish. For this reason it is important to know the truth. In a consideration of criminal abortion no prophylaxis is consistent without a knowledge of etiology, and discussion is without profit unless the naked facts are presented. When married women become pregnant, I estimate that 80 per cent, of

Unfortunately Stanley Sykes is dead. Before he died he compiled enough essays on the first hundred years of anesthesia to fill five volumes. This reviewer sincerely hopes the last three volumes will be published. Like volume I, this book is a part of a compendium of the early development of the art and science of administering anesthetics. Also like volume I, it is written with wit and wisdom, erudition, and irreverence for the injudicious. There are 17 chapters, and the first one alone ("Thirty-seven Little Things Which Have All Caused Death") is worth the cost of the complete volume. The entire book should be read by all anesthesiologists for information as well as entertainment. Medical historians will find it a gold mine of references arranged by chapter subject. The general physician or surgeon will find it instructive and pleasant reading. Internists will especially enjoy the chapter, "Anaesthesia and the Cardiologists"

To the Editor:— In his recent discussion of the penis ( 199 :256, 1967), Alexander Gode, PhD exhibits his usual erudition, but his presentation lacks rigor. It is quite all right to consider the penis as an "individualized agent" that is both personalized and masculine, but this does not carry us very far forward. More significant is the problem not why the organ should be masculine, but why it is in fact sometimes feminine. In French, of course, the term is verge , which is feminine. This derives from the Latin virga , which means, first of all, a slender branch or twig; it has taken on the meaning of a rod or switch, as for flogging; a staff or wand or rod; and finally—shall we say by extension— the meaning of "membrum virile." The Latin virga is related to virgo , or virgin, just as the French verge is cognate to vierge , both