The fundamental problem with grabbing books off your TBR is that sometimes the mood you were in when you put the book on your virtual shelf is not the mood you were in when you pulled it off. This is probably not the book I would have chosen to get out of a week-long reading slump, but here we are.
I am always down for a good history of science book and this did not disappoint even if it is not for the faint of stomach. I am bothered by very few things, but even I had a couple of "I am peacefully knitting and reading about some SERIOUSLY weird stuff right now" moments.
Schillace is a careful narrator and tells this story with the kind of love that bespeaks special interest and a willingness to carefully opine without being judgemental. You don't get the sense that there's a torrent of opinion just waiting to break forth, but instead a carefully considered telling of a story that is, in fact, as complicated as it looks.
I had also forgotten how much of the history of transplant was about turning it into something acceptable and I'm almost tempted to dig back into the great brain death debate in Judaism. Almost.