Urgent health
bulletins are issued, warning parents to beware of their children swallowing
tiny magnets, which can lead to perforated bowels. The internet becomes
fascinated by tales of a pea sprouting and growing in a man's lung, or an
aspirated piece of a plastic cup from Wendy's causing two years' worth of
breathing trouble in an inattentive individual. The x-ray of a dog with an
enormous kitchen knife occupying almost the whole length of its innards
mesmerizes the random web-surfer's eye. A video of Michel Lotito, known as
"Monsieur Mangetout," racks up a quarter-million views on
YouTube.
The accidental or
purposeful ingestion of weird objects seems an eternal, primal trope of the
human condition, from the myth of Rhea convincing Cronos to swallow a stone in
place of baby Zeus, to magical fishbones precipitating Sleeping Beauty-type
comas in the Arabian Nights. In her new study of the
odd things that find their way where they shouldn't be, internally amongst
humans, Mary Cappello brings a poet's flair to her meditations on the queer
symbolical import of the phenomenon. "It's possible to feel the past in a way that we can never know the
present. Time ripens inside
objects…"
But she also adds a
memoirist's intimacy and a scientist's precision, as she centers her tale around
the career of Dr. Chevalier Jackson (1865-1958), eccentric laryngologist who
dedicated his life to the medical removal of swallowed or aspirated "foreign
bodies" from his patients, the resulting carefully preserved collection of which
objects can be seen today at Philadelphia's Mütter Museum, Cappello's starting
point for her journey "through the alimentary canal with gun and camera," to
quote the title of a humor book curiously coincidental with Dr. Jackson's
heyday.
Cappello crafts a
creepy David-Cronenberg-worthy saga of the doctor's youth, maturity, and old
age, tapping into his best-selling 1938 autobiography for salient details, as
well as a wealth of other historical sources. We watch as the effects of
childhood bullying determine the youngster's choice of vocation. We follow his
invention of an unprecedented oral toolkit—esophagoscope and bronchoscope, among
other devices. We see the pamphleteering guardian of public safety, the artist
behind some truly curious anatomical sketches, the quasi-anorexic and neurotic
married man. And throughout, we get Cappello's musings on her own brushes with
swallowing mishaps, as well as her investigations into the wider psychosocial
realm of mouth disasters. In the end, Cappello's fine writing creates a book
that goes down very easy.
Might I playfully
suggest that any giftgivers of Swallow pair it with either Choke by Chuck Palahniuk, or Liz Jensen's The
Paper Eater?
-PAUL DI FILIPPO

Paul Di Filippo's column The Speculator
appears monthly in the Barnes & Noble Review. He is the
author of several acclaimed novels and story collections, including
Fractal Paisleys, Little Doors, Neutrino Drag, and Fuzzy Dice.
Please sign in to add a comment on this article.