The author, who is actually not a trained journalist but a very biased writer with a history degree, and whose grandfather Dr. Scoville performed the original questionable lobotomy on patient H.M., seems throughout the book (for those who have not read it) to be conflicted about his grandfather’s legacy. That said, he also seems inordinately happy to throw Dr. Sue Corkin “under the bus,” and seems to have formed an inexplicable allegiance and loyalty to Dr. Annese, who also seemed to have some great sense of entitlement to Henry’s brain, to the extent that he delayed sharing it, once he got it, with the neuroscience community from which he obtained it. Regarding this latter fact, Dittrich claims the opposite is true — that Dr. Corkin suppressed/withheld data about Henry’s brain from other neuroscientists. This is easy to check: Out of all the neuroscientists involved in Annese’s spat surrounding Henry’s brain, he is the only one who no longer holds any academic position. Too much of a free thinker for academia? A scientific rogue? Not likely — he’d trained all his life for it. For whatever reason, he seems to have chosen to abuse the scientific treasure with which he was entrusted and somehow this resulted in his no longer having an academic position. This to me vindicates Corkin as the neuroscientist everyone knew her as: always willing to share, collaborate, work with other scientists — in contrast to Annese, who puzzlingly leaned in the opposite direction in the end and seems to have all too gladly taken Dittrich with him. So Dittrich was either too scientifically naive to figure this all out (since it is clear from his book that he relied on Annese for many of his incorrect so called “facts” about Dr. Corkin and her camp), and/or is craftily staging a very stark drama/controversy pitting the Annese of shady scientific principles as the good guy/victim fighting a solitary fight against the actually impeccably scientific and stringently ethical Dr. Corkin whom he portrays as an insensitive egotist and sloppy scientist —just to sell his latest controversial book. I am convinced that he has no qualms about portraying Dr. Corkin as a heartless “publish or perish” scientist who would spare no ill treatment of Henry if it meant her own career would advance, only because in his own mind this worldview is conceivable — it is, after all, what he is doing in this book. He was not exactly rigorous with his fact checking. Listening to the recording (ethics, anyone?) of him hounding the literally dying Dr. Corkin for info on the files/data is painful and shows his lack of empathy, as well as lack of understanding of the scientific process. Reading him blithely publishing emails that were clearly marked as not intended to be read, much less published, by anyone other than the intended living recipient(s), shows his lack of appreciation for privacy — which also mirrors his lack of understanding of patient privacy in human subjects research throughout the book. Dittrich has given no defense for publishing these emails, incidentally, because there is none. Dittrich’s sense of entitlement led him to continuously bother Dr. Corkin for personal details about H.M. when he was alive, thinking she owed it to him because she was his mother’s friend, and then when that relationship dissolved, he persisted for the root reason: because he was the grandson of Henry’s lobotomist, completely failing to appreciate her fidelity to protecting H.M.’s privacy at all costs. All this calls into question his true motive for writing this book and for portraying her so negatively. Was it merely a personal vendetta because she prohibited him from meeting H.M.? He could have met H.M., if he had followed the law and signed a contract. Dittrich refused to sign the contract. (Perhaps he felt he was above the laws — the laws put in place to protect research subjects, while in his book he claims that Henry was not protected as a research subject. Which is it, Dittrich?) So no meeting ever took place, and it would seem that for this he had a vendetta against Dr. Corkin. I personally cannot recommend the book. If you are interested in the story of H.M., or Henry Molaison, I highly recommend reading Sue Corkin’s book, Permanent Present Tense, which gives a much better, clearer account of H.M.’s contribution to science, and it does him justice. He was an honorable man who wanted to contribute to science, and he did. Dittrich’s book, in contrast, gets basic facts wrong, mitigates Henry’s dignity, and casts a shadow on the decades of work that dedicated scientists undertook to study and assist a man whose life changed dramatically as a result of having been operated on by Dittrich’s own grandfather, possibly the most prolific lobotomist in history, a man who even lobotomized his own wife — by Dittrich’s own account. Dittrich’s is no “just the facts” investigative reporting. That he portrays Corkin as more of a heartless, ego-driven villain than the generous, collaborative, protective scientist she was (and who is now deceased and conveniently unable to defend herself) is abundantly clear. His claim that a dolorimeter was used to burn Henry’s skin to the point of blistering in an experiment was backed by no evidence and has been debunked by MIT. How would a dolorimeter, which is used to measure pain, malfunction to that extent? Did he seriously believe that no one cared about H.M. just because he was amnesic? All this, my friends, is the difference between a hack and a qualified, objective investigative journalist, who fact checks, provides sources, has a passing knowledge of the scientific process, and most importantly, like Dr. Sue Corkin, is bound by ethics.