Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers

by Mary Roach

I take the Superman point of view: What a shame to waste these powers, to not use them for the betterment of humankind.

Death. It doesn’t have to be boring.

So he got together with the heads—sorry, chiefs—of

dayum

(37½ cents, to be exact; it happened in Rochester, New York, in 1831).

William Harvey, famous for discovering the human circulatory system, also deserves fame for being one of few medical men in history so dedicated to his calling that he could dissect his own father and sister.

The radio—I’m not making this up—is playing “Hit Me with Your Best Shot.”

First the historian said that INSCOM didn’t keep records back that far. I didn’t need any of the man’s cheek cells to know he was lying. This is the U.S. government.

But H is different. She has made three sick people well. She has brought them extra time on earth. To be able, as a dead person, to make a gift of this magnitude is phenomenal. Most people don’t manage this sort of thing while they’re alive. Cadavers like H are the dead’s heroes.