The Nobel Chronicles

DISSECTING ROOM

No consolation for Alzheimer’s disease ?@ ?@W-X? @6T2@@(R1? @V+MW@U:@T-X @?e*?@@>@R/X? V+MS@@?S)X @?f?7Y@@@>)K? @?f?3T(?40R46X? ?V'Uf?V1? @?gV4@@@@@@@L?W26T. @? @)T.MB@YO@ ?@K?O26X@@@U?J@@@@T&hg @?g?@@@@@@@@V')?&R4@>@@T-X?he ?@V4@@@@@LN@@@eS(MS@?)Xhe @?g?@gS)T@T@@@(YW&R'?,he ?O@?2@@>@>@Y@@UO&@?V@Hhe @?g?@@@@@@@@@>@@@@V@(R4@@@?he @?g?@@@@@@@@S@@?W@T@Uf@?he W@X?@@>@@@R@R1?@6X@?he @?g?@e7@)X@V'>@@@@?@?@@@@Lhe 3XI'@?S(Y@h@@he @?heS)XN@@@Y:@@@@@@@@@@Hhe [email protected]?@W@@@U@W(?'T(Y@?he ?O@?hf@?@@>@>@@0Y?S@HJ@?he ?W.?@?@@@?@@@?g?@e/T5?@S@?@@f&@T&@?he ?.Y? N@Y?@@R@>@@6X??B@Y@?he ?@hf?@6Xf?@eJ@@@@5?@@U@S,??C5?@?he ?@?@@6X?hI/X?g@@X?@HJ@>@@@UO2@U?@?he ?@W@@@)Xh?V/Xe?@K??V@@@T&?@U@V4@0R4@@?he ?@@@?@@>@T@1heV/X??@@@@@@@S@?@>@@?f?W5?he W@L?I'>@>@T&h?V1??@@@@@T@@R@>@@@@@?@@@@U?he @@@>)X?V4@@>@@T-T-T-T2@@@?f?S@U@W@@U?@?eV@?S,?he @W@@>)K??I'@YV@R'?@?@Uf@?e@@>@@@U;@@@@@@@@@@H?he ?@@?@@>@@>@6X?V'@@@LN@R@R)T26Kf(R@@T@1?@W@XI'X?W@L?he ?@?@Y??I'>@@US)X?V4@@)X@?@?@@Y@@@@e?:@>@>5?@@?)XN@@@?,?he J@@@eV'US@@>)K?e?@@@@@@@@@@@@??@@@R@>@U:@>@R/?3X;@H?he /T&Y@Ye?V'@Y@@R@6K??@@@@@@@@@@@@)K??@?@@R@@?@@?eS)T@L?he S@@W@@6KeV4@@@@@@@@@@T@@0Y@V'T@@S@@?@@@@?3>@>5?@?7>@?,?he *>@@UW@@@?eI40Y@@@?@V@Ye?@?V@Y@@Y@?@?@@?S@@@U:5?@(R@H?he V'US@0MI'T-Xf@?'@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@Y@S@0YJ@U:@L?he ?V'@8?eV'?)K?fN@@@@@@@@@@@?@W@X?@W@X@@@?@@Y??7R'@R1?)Xh V'T2@??V+R@@@@@6X@?@?@@@@W@@@@@>@@@@?@@X@W@@@@?39S@T@X@(h ?V'Ue@?e3T@@@@@@@@@@@T@0R'X?V@@X?S@UV@@@U@e?N@(R@[email protected] V'@??O-XN@U?fI@M?I'U??V@@@@>@@@R@@@@V@@?@6T@U?@eS@@Ug ?V'T2@?)T@)T-KO@e?/XN)T2@@X?I'UI'T@X?@W@@?@V@R@@@T2@@>@@?@@@W-KV)T@@Y?S@6XN)KS@>1?@@>@@@@@@@0R@R'=h ?V4@?@@@8S@UW@@?@@@@>@@@@Y@)X@@@R@@X@@0Mg?J@9S@6T.?f ?I'U?@W&>@@YS@U??I'>(?4@@@@0?'T(R@@Xe@6T-T.?7R@@UI+Y?f V4@@@@0R4@0R4@@?S@H?g?S@H?@S@6T@>@?@U:@T(R1h ?W@T&@T-T26X?@?&@=C@@>@@>@?@?@@?@U:@L?g @@@@@@6T20R@@>@?@US)X@@@>@@UI+R40R+R+MS(R40R/?g ?I'T@T@@U??(R+R+R40R40MI+MI/he.Yhf V+R+MI/?

Iris A Memoir of Iris Murdoch John Bayley. London: Duckworth. 1998. Pp 189. £16.95. ISBN 0-7156-2848-8.

n Iris, John Bayley, the novelist and literary critic, has written an at times painfully moving tribute to his wife, who now suffers from Alzheimer’s disease. The first part of the book is called “Then”, the second “Now”. When he first saw her, riding past his window on a bicycle in the rain, she seemed both serious and determined, her head down, “like a little bull”. “Since she had no obvious female charms she was not likely to appeal to other men”, he adds. This rather brutal assessment turned out, in any case, to be mistaken.When they got to know each other better at a college dance, “With arms around each other, kissing and rubbing noses . . . we ram-

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bled on and on, seeming to invent on the spot, and as we talked, a whole infantile language of our own”. Later, when dementia has ransacked her brain, he compares their mode of communication to “underwater sonar”. “One of the truest pleasures of marrige is solitude”, he remarks near the beginning. “Already we were beginning that strange and beneficent process in marriage by which a couple can, in the words of A D Hope, the Australian poet, ‘move closer and closer apart’”. But he also admits that his wife’s wish for separate relationships, especially with other men, such as Elias Canetti, the mesmeric “Hampstead monster”, caused him huge anguish. She would

The Nobel Chronicles

n 1933 Mendel’s laws of Thomas Hunt inheritance. One Morgan was day in 1910 in his laboawarded the Nobel ratory, fondly called the Prize in Physiology or “fly room”, Morgan Medicine “for his disfound a male fly with coveries concerning the white eyes rather than role played by the chrothe usual red. When he mosomes in heredity”. bred this fly with a redHe was born in eyed female, all firstLexington, Kentucky, generation offspring USA, obtained a PhD turned out to be red1933: Thomas Hunt from the Johns Hopeyed. Breeding those Morgan (1866–1945) kins University, and first-generation flies joined Edward Wilson, among themselves led to a distinguished biolosecond-generation offgist at Columbia spring with both red and University, New York, white eyes in a ratio of 3 in 1904. Most of to 1. All white-eyed flies Morgan’s early reswere males: Morgan had earch came from this shown sex-linked inheriinstitution. tance. This work led to In 1900, a group of the discovery of the scientists had re-discovassociation between ered Gregor Mendel’s genes and chromosomes forgotten work on and the general role of heredity, and, by 1904, chromosomes in transchromosomes were regarded as the mitting genetic characteristics. bearers of Mendelian “heredity facMorgan was a very modest scientors”. Although Morgan was sceptical tist. He believed that the Nobel Prize of the chromosome theory, he began was given in recognition of the new studying inheritance patterns in the field of genetics rather than of his fruit fly, Drosophila melanogaster. The research. Known for his sense of choice of this animal for genetic humour, he often referred to his four research turned out to be lucky for children as “the F1s”—the Mendelian Morgan, since fruit flies ate little and notation of the first-generation. bred rapidly. Tonse N J Raju Morgan’s fruit-fly experiments University of Illinois, Chicago, IL, USA revealed findings that contradicted The Nobel Foundation

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THE LANCET • Vol 353 • January 9, 1999

reassure him: “Remember Proteus. Just keep tight hold of me and it will be all right”. Iris Murdoch is not only well known as a novelist, she has written memorably on philosophical subjects and has forcefully reformulated the now unfashionable view, derived from Plato, that morality should be founded, not on human needs, but on an unchanging and absolute idea of goodness. She also understood Wittgenstein better than most. John Bayley notes that “Iris once told me that the question of identity had always puzzled her. She thought she herself hardly possessed such a thing, whatever it was”. Although a famous writer, “Iris is without question the most genuinely modest person I have ever met” lacking the normal need for status and reassurance of many creative people. Now that she no longer knows what she has written, “I am struck by the almost eerie resemblance between the amnesia of the present and the tranquil indifference of the past”. His account of the effects of the disease tallies closely with my own experience of Alzheimer’s (my mother almost certainly suffered from it too). Instead of moving “closer and closer apart”, they have come closer and closer together. “Alzheimer’s, which can accentuate personality traits to the point of demonic parody, has only been able to exaggerate a natural goodness in her”. To a dear friend, who was helping her wash, she said. “I see an angel. I think it’s you”. The endless fiddling with bits of rubbish, the “battle of the trousers” when trying to dress her and the frequently repeated, exasperating questions, such as “When are we going?”—all this rings true. So does the pervasive anxiety, at times terror, which grips not only the sufferer, but whoever is looking after her. Worst by far is the realisation that she has moments of insight. Sometimes she just weeps silently and ashamedly. Twice she said that she is “sailing into the dark”. Many years ago, in her subtle and attentive essay “Against Dryness”, she wrote, “We are not isolated free choosers, monarchs of all we survey, but benighted creatures sunk in a reality whose nature we are constantly and overwhelmingly tempted to deform by fantasy” and “The temptation of art, a temptation to which every work of art yields except the greatest ones, is to console.” This book, which does not spare us the horror of this disease, is great and true art.

Paul Crichton Royal Marsden Hospital, London SW3 6JJ, UK

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