About this item
We think of science as a force for good - usually. So much of contemporary society is linked to scientific discovery that the word "science" has practically become synonymous with truth and progress. But what was the cost of that progress? And how far were scientists willing to go in order to test the boundaries that gave way to our modern world? The Icepick Surgeon exposes this darker history, delving into the human costs of scientific study and examining what exactly pushes these otherwise rational men and women to cross the line in the name of science. Using fascinating case examples and posing essential questions of right and wrong, Sam Kean guides us through a history of malpractice and moral compromise, from Edison's mercenary support of execution by electricity and the Nazis' unpardonable explorations of human suffering on through the quandaries that lie ahead, with science ushering us into an unknown world.
About the Author
Official bio: Sam Kean spent years collecting mercury from broken thermometers as a kid, and now he's a writer in Washington, D.C. His new book is The Tale of the Dueling Neurosurgeons. His first two books, The Disappearing Spoon and The Violinist's Thumb were national bestsellers, and both were named an Amazon "Top 5" science books of the year. The Disappearing Spoon was nominated by the Royal Society for one of the top science books of 2010, while The Violinist's Thumb was a finalist for PEN's literary science writing award. His work has also been featured on "Radiolab" and NPR's "All Things Considered," among other shows. You can follow him via Twitter @sam_kean, and read excerpts at http://www.samkean.com.(un) Official bio: Sam Kean gets called Sean at least once a month. He grew up in South Dakota, which means more to him than it probably should. He's a fast reader but a very slow eater. He went to college in Minnesota and studied physics and English. At night, he sometimes comes down with something called "sleep paralysis," which is the opposite of sleepwalking. Right now, he lives in Washington, D.C., where he earned a master's degree in library science that he will probably never use. He feels very strongly that open-faced sandwiches are superior to regular ones.
