Physicians -- Fiction. |
Science fiction. |
Allopathic doctors |
Doctors |
Doctors of medicine |
MDs (Physicians) |
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Medical profession |
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Searching... Fairhaven-Millicent | FIC PALMER DEXTER MARY | FICTION | Searching... Unknown |
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Summary
Summary
In 1726, in the town of Godalming, England, a woman confounded the nation's medical community by giving birth to seventeen rabbits. This astonishing true story is the basis for Dexter Palmer's stunning, powerfully evocative new novel.
Surgeon's apprentice Zachary Walsh knows that his master, John Howard, prides himself on his rationality. But John cannot explain how or why Mary Toft, the wife of a local journeyman, has managed to give birth to a dead rabbit. When this singular event becomes a regular occurrence, John and Zachary realize that nothing in their experience as rural physicians has prepared them to deal with a situation like this--strange, troubling, and possibly miraculous. John contacts several of London's finest surgeons, three of whom soon arrive in Godalming to observe, argue, and perhaps use the case to cultivate their own fame.
When King George I learns of Mary's plight, she and her doctors are summoned to London, where Zachary experiences a world far removed from his small-town existence and is exposed to some of the darkest corners of the human soul. All the while Mary lies in bed, as doubts begin to blossom among her caretakers and a growing group of onlookers waits with impatience for another birth, another miracle.
Reviews (4)
Publisher's Weekly Review
In this follow-up to Version Control, Palmer brilliantly fictionalizes the true story of Mary Toft, who in 1726 perplexed England when she gave birth to dead rabbits. John Howard, the only surgeon in the small town of Godalming, and his 14-year-old apprentice, Zachary Walsh, find their relatively quaint medical consults disrupted by a call from farmer Joshua Toft, who says his wife, Mary, is ready to give birth, despite having had a miscarriage fewer than six months earlier. John and Zachary are further surprised when Mary gives birth to a dead rabbit--and then another, and then another. Soon, word spreads and surgeons are sent from London to study the case. As Mary continues to give birth to a rabbit every few days, she's brought to London for additional inspection, accompanied by John and Zachary, where the answer to the mystery finally comes to light. Palmer evocatively captures the period, from the sleepy matters of Godalming to the noise and danger of London (a violent show in a back alley is particularly memorable). But more impressive are the novel's inquiries into the human concerns of wonder, denial, and belief. "And so I am becoming, not myself, but a mixture of the dreams of others," Mary thinks. Palmer skillfully and rewardingly delves into the humanity at the heart of this true historical oddity. (Nov.)
Kirkus Review
Truth is in the eye of the beholder as 18th-century British people try to decide whether a series of freakish births represent a miracle or a fraud.The third novel by Palmer (Version Control, 2016, etc.) is as different from its predecessors as those two were from each other. Historical fiction, it is based on a real-life hoax perpetuated by Mary Toft, a farmer's wife living in the small English town of Godalming whose claims to be giving birth to rabbits fooled the doctors attending her. It isn't the hoax itself that interests the novelistthe machinations and motivationsbut the responses of those she fooled: first her doctors; then the residents of Godalming, where the gossip spreads; and finally greater London, where the patient and her physicians are summoned to the court of King George. The primary perspective throughout the novel is that of 14-year-old Zachary Walsh, son of Godalming's preacher and apprentice to the local doctor. He wrestles with the central duality of the novel, between the faith of his father and the scientific reasoning of what was then modern medicine. There will be other dualitiesmen and women, city and countryas the novel mediates among different versions of reality, ones that cannot be reconciled, through the eyes of an innocent young man who lacks experience in the ways of the world but quickly finds himself challenged by a rash of experiences. "Come to London," invites a young woman with whom he falls in love, as love also becomes a question of faith or delusion. "Perhaps there are still other versions of myself I have to show you; versions of yourself you haven't seen." At the center of the novel, Mary herself is given little space to express herself, limited to two short chapters ("Mary's Dream," "Mary's Soliloquy"), otherwise functioning as a receptacle from which doctors pull rabbits, or pieces of rabbit. Ultimately, this is a novel that attempts to illuminate "the slippery nature of truth," when everything from God to reality is up for grabs.Deft, droll, and provocatively philosophical, a novel about how much we don't know about what we think we know. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Booklist Review
After exploring the near future in Version Control (2016), Palmer turns in a brilliant work of historical fiction set in Godalming, England, in 1726. Zachary Walsh is a surgeon's apprentice being mentored by the logical, John Locke-inspired John Howard. When one of Godalming's residents, Mary Toft, begins to give birth to dead rabbits, John's rational mind cannot grasp what he is witnessing. As illustrious London surgeons flock to the usually quiet Godalming, confident they can explain this freakish occurence, the town's gossip-merchants develop elaborate tales about this seeming miracle. When the King begins to take an interest and doubts begin to grow Mary is taken to London. There, through Zachary's innocent eyes, Palmer evocatively depicts the dramatic changes witnessed during this period in race relations, industrialization, and the birth of the modern novel. Moreover, like the historical fiction of Hillary Mantel or Caryl Phillips, Palmer does not shy away from the depravity of the past, particularly the violent desires of London's elite. Expertly utilizing an actual bizarre historical event to explore faith, reason, and the foundations of our current economic system, this exhaustively researched and dexterously constructed novel is another triumph to add to Palmer's incredibly diverse corpus of works.--Alexander Moran Copyright 2010 Booklist
Library Journal Review
In 1726, Mary Toft, from the rural English town of Godalming, suddenly begins giving birth to dismembered rabbits. Local surgeon John Howard is called to attend the births, bringing with him teenage apprentice Zachary. The rational Howard is confounded as these births continue and writes to the top medical minds in London for assistance. As the experts venture to Godalming, word gets out, creating a circuslike atmosphere in the town. Finally, Mary is taken to London at the request of King George. When the "births" cease following her arrival, Howard and the others must face the possibility that they've been taken in by a hoax. Told largely from Zachary's viewpoint, the book begins with Zachary and Howard's attendance at a semi-fraudulent traveling show, "The Exhibition of Medical Curiosities," with the suspension of disbelief required to accept the reality of these curiosities acting as a metaphor for the story of Mary Toft. VERDICT Drawing on a true incident, Palmer (The Dream of Perpetual Motion) pits the age-old human desire to believe the miraculous against the emerging rationalism of the scientific community in Mary's time. In this yearning to believe what we'd like to be true over the facts, the novel perhaps offers some parallels to our own time. [See Prepub Alert, 5/13/19.]--Lawrence Rungren, Andover, MA
Excerpts
Excerpts
from CHAPTER III. A Concerned Husband. * On October 13, 1726, the first day of the year that was chilly enough to compel John Howard to light a fire in his office, his first visitor was one Joshua Toft, a journeyman in the cloth trade. The man was hulking and hirsute, and stood at the threshold of Howard's office, a faded, weather-beaten cloth cap clutched in his hands. His slumping posture suggested a diffidence at odds with his frame: with his stooped back and drawn‑in shoulders, he seemed as if he genuinely believed he was half his actual size. His eyes were at odds with the rest of him, twin glints of silver twinkling in the shadows cast by his hooded brows. John closed the volume of Locke on his desk, putting it aside with a mixture of relief and regret: he was finding Locke's pedantic definition of infinity to be deeply befuddling, but unpleasant as it was, his confusion had a cast to it that signaled an impending enlightenment. It would take him another morning to pick up the thread of reasoning once he dropped it. Alas: too late. "May I help you?" he asked, stifling a sigh, feeling the flickering flame in the back of his mind go cold. Joshua Toft took two timid steps forward, eyes on the floor. He mumbled something John couldn't catch: a stuttered sibilant, a word that sounded like "wife," and little else. "Speak up," John said, becoming aggravated. "My wife!" Joshua fairly shouted, then cringed as if startled by the sound of his own voice. "My wife," he said again. "Sh . . . she's. She's . . . she's with child. It's time." He looked away from the floor and at John, who was leaning back in his chair, staring up at Joshua in puzzlement. "It's time," Joshua said again, his voice now steady and even, though his posture still suggested an instinctive supplication. "We need you. Today. Certainly before nightfall. Perhaps now." Slowly, John pushed back his chair and stood. He looked at Joshua, then down at the book before him, as if some secret were hidden between its covers that needed urgent deciphering, then back at Joshua again. "That cannot be," John said quietly; then, again, louder: "No. That cannot be." "I tell you, it is," said Joshua. "Perhaps I am not the expert in human anatomy that you are. But I know my wife, and I trust my eyes." "Sit," said John, gesturing toward an empty chair. "We don't have--" "Sit, I said." With slow steps Joshua found his way toward a chair and collapsed into it, the joints crying out as his formidable weight settled. He began to wring his cap in his large, meaty hands, as if he intended to tear it in two. "Mr. Toft," John said, sitting down behind his desk once more and attempting to infuse his voice with a warmth and gentleness that he did not at all feel, "it has not even been six months since your wife's . . . untimely exclusion in the spring. The blessing of a pregnancy, even one that might appear to have progressed far along, is easily within the realm of probability: I grant you that. But to suggest that my services are needed urgently? That the birth is mere hours away? This defies belief--my apologies, but there is no other honest way to state it." The silver in Joshua's eyes brightened. "I know what I see," he said, his voice rising. "We have had three children before this--James, and the girls Clara and Bridget, both taken by the smallpox two years back. I am no fool. Sir. " "I did not intend to suggest you were," said John. "I offer you my sincerest apologies, once again. But you do see the problem here, all the same? The situation presented to me requires either strange biology, or new mathematics; I refuse to ponder the latter, and cannot find any justification for considering the former. There must be some mistake; the facts must not be as they seem." Joshua became still more anxious, twisting his cap in his hands, biting his lower lip, knocking his knees against each other. "There is . . . something else," he said. "This is a matter of shame for me; when I tell you of it, I fear you will come to the wrong conclusion, and call me the fool I say I'm not." "Speak freely, Joshua: I am a doctor, not a judge. And these walls have overheard more confessions than you can ever know, from patients who contracted their illnesses through sins beyond most men's ability to forgive." John spread his arms in magnanimity. "I promise you: your secrets will remain within this room." Joshua sat in silence for nearly a full minute, and John thought it wisest to stay silent as well, and wait. Then, with a long, heavy sigh, Joshua said, "Since the . . . exclusion . . . I have not . . . lain with my wife. But I tell you: I am no cuckold, either, and Mary is not one for adulterous intrigues. I know her mind as I know my very own." John frowned. "Whether or not this is the case--" "It is not !" "I believe you. As I intended to say--whether or not this is the case, adultery would not resolve the basic impossibility of what you claim. Though it is true that the lack of adultery makes the situation even more confusing." "There is . . . still more I might reveal," said Joshua, his voice barely above a whisper. "Friend, you need not parcel out the details of this case in such a parsimonious manner," John replied. "The knowledge only has value after I've received it." "You may perhaps not find this credible, sir. My wife . . . these past few months, she . . . talks in her sleep. Mumbling, but also . . . curses. The foulest language. I can't bring myself to repeat it. And, a few weeks ago, she began to weep in her slumber. Each night, without fail, I am awakened by her sobs. In the morning I ask her about her troubled sleep, and she remembers nothing." "It seems that the two of you have failed to put the past behind you," said John. "All of what you describe to me--the illusion of a pregnancy by which you are both convinced; the ceasing of your marital relations; the woman troubled by dark dreams--all this suggests to me that neither of you has brought yourself to accept the unfortunate loss of your child a few months ago. I fear, Joshua, that you and your wife have indulged in a mutual comforting fantasy, in an attempt to recover--" Joshua leaned forward. "Sir. She weeps not tears, but blood. In the morning I see the evidence on her face: twin tracks of red, leading back from the corners of her eyes to her ears. And spots of blood on our bedding as well." John Howard stared at Joshua in silent shock. "For months now," Joshua continued, "I have attempted to turn a blind eye to these details, for they were too bizarre for me to comprehend, and I could only hope that they would somehow vanish just as they came. Her restless sleep; her bloody tears; her complaints of the symptoms of pregnancy, despite the fact that relations between us have grown cold, and her belly has not swollen. But she tells me, this morning, that a child is ready to come, and I believe her. I do not understand what I see, but I can no longer pretend that I do not see it. "And sir--I am terrified." Excerpted from Mary Toft; or, the Rabbit Queen: A Novel by Dexter Palmer All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.Table of Contents
Part 1 | |
Chapter I The Exhibition of Medical Curiosities | p. 5 |
Chapter II The Royal Touch | p. 27 |
Chapter III A Concerned Husband | p. 35 |
Chapter IV A Birth | p. 43 |
Chapter V Aristotle's Masterpiece | p. 53 |
Chapter VI Mary's Dream | p. 66 |
Chapter VII Foolscap | p. 72 |
Part 2 | |
Chapter VIII Nathanael St. André | p. 79 |
Chapter IX Confirmation of the Preternatural | p. 91 |
Chapter X The Seat of Imagination | p. 97 |
Chapter XI Some Unanticipated Visitors | p. 107 |
Chapter XII The Shearing Effect | p. 116 |
Chapter XIII The King and the Three Impostors | p. 125 |
Chapter XIV A Strange Celebration | p. 139 |
Part 3 | |
Chapter XV Mary's Soliloquy | p. 155 |
Chapter XVI Moll Flanders | p. 160 |
Chapter XVII Dr. Lacey's Bagnio | p. 168 |
Chapter XVIII A Coffee House Meeting | p. 180 |
Chapter XIX The Keepers of the Vigil | p. 187 |
Chapter XX Sects | p. 196 |
Chapter XXI The Proof | p. 205 |
Chapter XXII A Principle of English Law | p. 209 |
Chapter XXIII Leaving the Barn | p. 240 |
Part 4 | |
Chapter XXIV Hasenpfeffer | p. 249 |
Chapter XXV Manningham's Plan | p. 258 |
Chapter XXVI Transverse Presentation | p. 264 |
Chapter XXVII Morning | p. 273 |
Chapter XXVIII Pamphlets | p. 277 |
Part 5 | |
Chapter XXIX Zachary and Anne | p. 287 |
Chapter XXX John Howard Returns | p. 293 |
Chapter XXXI Bridewell Prison | p. 300 |
Acknowledgments | p. 313 |
Bibliography | p. 315 |