The Body: A Guide for Occupants

Writing | Bonnie Evie Gifford

If humans came with manuals, Bill Bryson’s latest foray into how the body works would be the quick-start guide we’d all want (and need).

I’ve never been a fan of science-y books. For someone who enjoys reading textbooks for fun (don’t judge, we all have our quirks), when it comes to the more scientific side of things, I tend to switch off. If you’ve ever felt the same way, Bill Bryson’s latest book might just be able to change that.

What’s it about?

Have you ever thought your body should come with an owner’s manual? If it did, I’m pretty sure The Body: A Guide for Occupants would be the volume you’d pick.

We all live in our bodies, yet how many of us really know how all the parts are connected? Or, frankly, what they’re all called, much less what they do. In his latest book, Bryson has successfully turned a daunting, heavy subject into something not only understandable, but entertaining and engaging.

Best known for his travel books and the award-winning A Short History of Nearly Everything, Bryson’s latest book aims to help us understand how our bodies work, evoking a rare sense of wonder and awe.

Back to basics and exploring unknowns

Weaving in anecdotes and personal experiences, Bryson manages to make a tricky subject feel educational, without seeming pompous. In the audiobook version, available via Audible, Bryson narrates the book himself, taking listeners on a journey into the wonders and evolutions of the body through history, and how we have come to our modern understanding of how our bodies work.

Refreshingly, Bryson never pretends that scientists have all the answers. Embracing the many mysteries that still surround our anatomy, he speaks of common quirks – such as why we have goosebumps, fingerprints, and pubic hair, and why we blush when we are angry.

The dark side of medical advancements

In places, The Body: A guide for occupants may have the potential to be triggering. Rather than shying away from some of the darker corners in medicine’s history, Bryson speaks candidly on topics such as lobotomies. He quotes letters that share first-hand accounts of seeing and performing the procedure, which had few benefits for patients, and led to many deaths.

It’s a fascinating and stark reminder of how far mental health care, treatment, and understanding has come – and how far it still has to go.

As well as exploring the many sides of mental health history, Bryson looks at uncomfortable past views on race, gender, and intelligence. He explores outdated ideas, such as how, in early criminal anthropology, the shape and size of one’s head was thought to signal if you were a criminal or not.

It’s all in the details

Whether you’re listening to the audiobook, or picking up a copy in print, you’re bound to come across numerous surprising details. Take, for example, your eyebrows – as Bryson points out, they have no real known evolutionary purpose; theorists suggest they help to keep sweat out of our eyes, or perhaps they developed to help us communicate without words.

A single arch of your eyebrows can show disbelief, caution, or suggest attraction. According to Bryson, the Mona Lisa looks so enigmatic because she lacks eyebrows (please say I’m not the only one who didn’t notice that?).

The importance of language

One area I feel is important to highlight, is the potentially triggering language used around suicide. Several times Bryson speaks about the act of ‘committing’ suicide. While this is still an (unfortunately) common turn of phrase, there are numerous guidelines on the best ways to write about suicide.

While it doesn’t feel like the author intends to offend, it stands out as a missed opportunity to focus on the importance of language sensitivity. Speaking about suicide can be a challenge; by using the term ‘commit’, journalists, authors, and other professionals, risk stigmatising those who have attempted or completed suicide.

As Natasha Devon explains in The Mental Health Media Charter, the terms ‘commit’ or ‘successful’ suicide “suggests criminality and blame. We now understand that suicide happens when pain exceeds resources for coping with pain. It is not a criminal act in the UK, and has not been since 1961. The best alternative is ‘died by suicide’, ‘attempted/ completed suicide’ or ‘took/ended their own life.’”

Should I read it?

Setting aside any issues around language sensitivities, I would thoroughly recommend The Body. A heavy subject to be sure, and while the narrative lacks some of the author’s famous wit, Bryson still offers a sense of charm and wonder that is bound to spark curiosity in many readers.

Balancing details with interesting anecdotes, we’re given just enough information to intrigue without becoming bogged down. Whether you’ve already got a solid basis of knowledge, or are looking to dip your toe into the world of more scientific reading, The Body: A Guide for Occupants is sure to teach you something new.