Do No Harm: stories of life, death and brain surgery by Henry Marsh (Phoenix, £8.99)
Henry Marsh, a top brain surgeon, tells us that “I often cut into the brain and it’s something I hate doing”. For Marsh, it can be terrifying but it’s also addictive. This is Marsh’s surgical autobiography and what he captures superbly is the obsessive nature of his job. It’s hugely stressful. There is no room for even tiny mistakes. Sometimes it can be like bomb disposal. It was hard on Marsh’s wife, too: “My obsession with neurosurgery and the long working hours and the self-importance it produced would lead to the end of our marriage.” In a way, this is a book about a man having an affair. With cutting into brains. Which he hates.
Worst. Person. Ever. by Douglas Coupland (Windmill, £8.99)
There s a type of novel in which a misanthropic (or at least hugely self-centred) male protagonist gets severely punished. Martin Amis’s Money is one such. Here’s a good example of the genre — not quite what you’d expect from Douglas Coupland. His antihero is called, as if that were not punishment enough, Raymond Gunt. He’s a Londoner. “I enjoy travelling through life with a certain Jason Bourne-like dashingness,” he tells us. Gunt’s dictum: “One is born, one grows up. One gets in a pickle.”
