Enduring What Cannot Be Endured: Memoir of a Woman Medical Aide in the Philippines in World War II Book

As I don't get out much, I knew exactly four things about Lindbergh (and nothing whatsoever about Carrel). I knew about his solo flight, I knew he solicited much of the funding for this from members of St Louis's Noonsday Club, I had some fleeting knowledge about the Lindbergh baby kidnapping, and I was told that his wife donated his library to Yale, not through any altruistic, scholarly motives but as a vehicle to get all of his crap out of the house to eliminate all physical reminders of "that crazy son-of-a-bitch" (presumably a paraphrase).

Thus my interest in The Immortalists was piqued (especially as I discovered it lying near to the open slot that supposedly housed the book I intended to check out - thanks again 3rd largest library in the US!). It's a pretty amazing story. Whenever I'm presented someone of "Renaissance Man" stature I always raise an eyebrow as these types typically don't have "day jobs" and can dabble in this, that, and the other armed with unlimited funds, inexaustable connections, and no need to deal with those pesky licensure issues that we have today (any given Jefferson, Da Vinci, or Ibn Rusd would no doubt have to languish in university classrooms for seven or eight decades before plying their trades today).

In a sense, Lindbergh is no different. As an aviator, he becomes the "most famous man in the world" at 25. This opens the door for his subsequent careers as an inventor/developer of medical research devices, primatologist, eugenics enthusiast, author, isolationist, WWII flying ace, environmentalist, philanderer and, finally, cancer victim. It's an amazing story. At the least, perhaps he's the last Renaissance Man? Maybe he's actually more interesting than that hirsute Dos Equis guy? (though hard to imagine the "humorless" teetotaler selling lousy Mexican beer, but I digress…).

Of course, the Nobel Laureate Frenchman, Alexis Carrel - with his perfused chick-heart and his pendulum-toting wife - is a fascinating component of this story. If one can get past his disdainful social theories, he's a fairly likable guy. But ultimately the importance of this book revolves around Lindbergh's personal journey from a belief system that only advanced white people should procreate and benefit from immortality (not the "wrong" kind of white people such as journalists and, presumably, those who wear Ed Hardy shirts un-ironically) to the notion that all humans are inherently evil to, finally, the concept that only naked primitives and Monkey-eating Eagles are worthy of this earth… a fairly predictable transformation certainly.