Hospitals, white, hygienic, and routined, hid behind their impersonal walls the perpetual struggle for life against death. They have an atmosphere of hushed mystery for most of us. But to those who live in them, doctors, patients, nurses, interns, and a host of others, life behind those walls is urgent and intimate, romance is sudden and strained, human emotions are tuned to the rhythm of birth and death and the intense dramas that lie between. In this many-charactered novel, Faith Baldwin takes you behind the scenes in one of New York’s oldest institutions. Here, among others, are Dr. Bullard, who considered money a sin; Jimmy Davenport, who fell in love with his nurse; Eunice Watson, who was too beautiful and too kind; the mysterious Mrs. Smith whose doctor had told her a big hospital was the best place to hide. Deftly the author brings alive a fascinating new world.
GRADE: B+
BEST QUOTES:
“Patricia to you. You don’t know me well enough to be
formal.”
“As she dialed her number she read the penciled scrawlings
on the walls and wondered that more people weren’t in the psychopathic wards.”
“Married men are either dull, misunderstood, or understood
too well.”
“You have to have some worries, just to know that you were
alive.”
“You look half dead, and dead doctors are bad diagnosticians.”
REVIEW:
This book is not a true VNRN; it’s a collection of six 60-page
novelettes, each starring a different character from the Lister Memorial
General Hospital on the West Side of Manhattan. As a fervent fan of the
thoughtful, elegant prose in which author Faith Baldwin delivered District Nurse, He Married a Doctor, and Private Duty, I’d been hoarding this
book as a pleasure postponed, and if this is not the finest of the quartet, it
is easily worth reading, a soothing balm for an afternoon or two.
Dr. Peter McDonald is a renowned diagnostician, almost 40, a
devout monk of a physician without time or inclination for a personal life.
He’s haunted by his past: He’d fallen in love with a young nurse when he was an
intern, but she had died after being misdiagnosed. His faithful office nurse, Lydia
Owens, at 26 has worked for him for three years, but he sees her only as the
quiet, reliable proficient that she is. Then one day he meets her sister, a
19-year-old train wreck of a nursing student who flirts with all the boys,
seldom studies, stays out after curfew—and looks just exactly like Peter’s dead
fiancée. You know exactly how this is going to play out, but part of Faith
Baldwin’s genius is that you’re still caught up in it, still a bit worried
until the final page.
The second story is the best of the lot, which is a bit too
bad, since peaking so early in the book makes the other stories seem a bit
faded. Pat Weston is an 18-year-old debutante who volunteers at the hospital’s
free clinic because she wants to be a nurse, if only she can convince her
horrified parents that a career is an acceptable alternative to being a society
wife. Clinic doctor Steve Bullard condemns her for her wealth, of course, but
she is too snappy to be put down by him. “The sight of a pretty girl—a girl
with more than she needs to eat—sitting there at a little desk in the midst of
all that misery made my blood boil,” he says by way of a backhanded apology.
“She said calmly, ‘It’s nice of you to think I’m pretty.’ ” This subtle, wry
wit permeates almost everything Pat says, and this story, too, ends as it
should, but with a twist worthy of Pat’s character.
And there are four more. The
dietician, Eva Reynolds, is pursued doggedly by the trifling society playboy
patient and the solid intern but is interested in neither of them until the
intern’s ex-fiancée shows up and tries to reel in them both. Charge nurse Ada
Nelson is beaten down by the early loss of her husband and baby, but in caring
for the women and babies on the maternity ward comes to realize “that in giving
herself once more to an intensely personal life she would find her salvation.”
Intern Dick Henderson becomes interested in his patient, Elsie Gordon—and then
realizes that her aunt, Linde von Hartwig, was the governess to the family next
door to him, more than a decade his senior, whom he had fallen desperately in
love with as a 15-year-old boy. Nurse Eunice Watson is sent to special a young
boy at home and finds that the wife is a closet alcoholic, desperately unhappy
and probably bipolar (though of course they don’t call it that in these
novels), and that she is in love with the father and the boy.
Only one of these stories does not
have the traditional VNRN ending, and I did wonder that Ms. Baldwin didn’t
shake things up a bit more, since the number of stories she included in this
volume gave her room to exercise some unconventional options. But all save the
narrative of Dr. Dick Henderson is satisfying in itself, traditional
conclusions or not, and I wouldn’t have them any other way. One of the book’s
nicer small touches is that the characters from one story appear in the others,
even if it’s just a quick hello across a crowded cafeteria, creating a feeling
of intertwined lives and professional roles as they are in the community of a
hospital. I’ve already loudly praised Faith Baldwin’s writing in the reviews of
her other three nurse novels, so I won’t go on too much now, but here she gives
us the same sweet, steady hand we’ve known elsewhere, though she doesn’t seem
to have worked as hard as she has on previous books, the sole exception being
the story of Pat Weston. Medical Center
appears to be the last of her nurse novels, I am heartbroken to say, but if you
know of another, contact me immediately, and I will dry my tears until the sad
day I have closed the cover of that one, too.
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