The Cambridge Illustrated History of Medicine. Ed Roy Porter. Cambridge University Press, £19.95, pp 400. ISBN 0 521 00252 4. Rating: ★★★
The Oxford Illustrated Companion to Medicine. Third edition. Eds Stephen Lock, John M Last, George Dunea. Oxford University Press, £39.50, pp 891. ISBN 0 19 262950 6. Rating: ★★★★
Rarely does the BMJ publish reviews of reprints or new editions, and rarer still entrust something edited by one of its former editors to a former reviews editor of the Lancet. However, the quality of both of these books shines through. Comparisons of two such worthy works are invidious, but here (although not quite so evident in recent years in the Boat Race) the dark blues—Oxford—have it over the light blues—Cambridge—although, strictly speaking, they are not really in the same race.
The Cambridge Illustrated History of Medicine was first published in hardback in 1996 and reprinted in 2000. This is its first paperback edition, and very good it is too. Not pretending to be comprehensive, the authors contribute cogent and fascinating essays. The quality of the paperback's production is exceptional, and the illustrations superb. But even history can get dated if not revised. For example, the first chapter, on the history of disease, has no mention of BSE or vCJD, and the last, on looking to the future, now looks out of place, through no fault of its author at the time it was written. 
The Oxford Illustrated Companion to Medicine, which follows on from the two previous (unillustrated) Oxford Companions to Medicine of 1986 and 1994, shows many changes—and not just by including illustrations. The editors bring together more than 250 contributors to outline diverse topics ranging from abortion to zombification. For once, such a multi-author work on so many topics (there are more than 500 longer articles and a myriad of shorter entries) is a strength rather than a weakness. One can open it at almost any page and find something of interest. The writing, editing, and graphic design are of high quality.
Although the section on biological and chemical weapons is now, sadly, overtaken by events, one can only admire Michael Faraday when consulted by the British government during the Crimean war on the feasibility of developing poison gases. His response was that it was entirely feasible, but that it was inhuman and he would have nothing to do with it.
The entry on “Patients, notable (diseases of the famous)” is particularly fascinating; never having read them in full, I never realised that James Boswell's diaries indicate that he contracted gonorrhoea 19 times. In the entry on “Literature,” I would take issue with the assessment of P G Wodehouse's Sir Roderick Glossop, who was not a brain surgeon but was, as Bertie Wooster observes, “always called a nerve specialist, because it sounds better, but everyone knows that he's sort of janitor to the looney-bin.”
The lists of “British and non-British doctor authors” are fascinating. I had no idea that Tobias Smollett had been a ship's surgeon, although I do not believe that Oliver Goldsmith ever qualified (he nominally attended lectures in medicine in Edinburgh for a couple of years, then went to Leyden but left almost penniless; his later boasts about receiving an MD at Padua do not bear close examination).
Inevitably, there are some omissions. But The Oxford Illustrated Companion to Medicine is a quite exceptional book and would be enjoyed by anyone with an interest in the highways—and more especially the byways—of medicine.