Review
Can you possibly put down a memoir that begins: “I have always had a bad memory, as far back as I can remember. It isn’t so much that I forget things outright, I forget where I stored them. I need reminders, and when the reminders change, as most of them have changed from my childhood, there goes my memory as well.”

The Youngest Science is not a personal biography. Except for the writings of his early years growing up the son of a family doctor and a practicing nurse, there is little to tell you of his life outside of medicine; even the chapters on his father and mother, seminal influences both, are written to illuminate the medical practices of their time. A small disappointment for me is that there is no hint in the books of how Thomas could over the years hold professorships in biology, pediatrics, medicine and pathology; write some 200 papers; give innumerable colloquia; serve actively not only on his local committees but on some of the most influential national committees; be, progressively, a department head, dean of a medical school, and for many years President of Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center; and, somehow, find the time to write six books on science – several among the best ever written – as well as Et Cetera, Et Cetera, Notes of a Word Watcher, and Could I Ask You Something, a limited edition book of 14 of his poems.

The Youngest Science is Thomas’s take on the evolution of medicine and medical practice over the 20th century, using his own experiences for illustrations and insights. Some of the chapters explain in some detail the research project that he carried out, starting with the motivation and concluding with the results. These chapters do not shy from the technical, but each is written to make a point that transcends the science. Even if, like me, you do not understand the technical words and phrases, do not connect what your reading to any previous knowledge, do not remember the technical stuff you just read, you will have no difficulty understanding the societal point that Thomas is making, which is always illuminating and thought provoking.

~ Lee Grodzins, Ph.D., Physicist, Professor Emeritus, MIT