Through almost superhuman combined efforts of the staff, Henry's heart is jump started, but it appears his brain has gone without oxygen too long and he remains in a coma.

The story flashes back to several months before. The scene is now Maricopa Hospital in metropolitan Phoenix where Malcolm is a surgical resident. His attending physician is Miriam (Mimi) Lyle, a brilliant researcher, though her technique in the operating theatre is somewhat suspect. Doctor Lyle is reputed to be a real tigress, and not many of her students are able to get along with her. She is smart and attractive though, and quickly indicates to Malcolm her physical interest in him. As author Farris wittily describes Mimi as viewed by Malcolm, "...her body was everything a woman's body, in the tightly closed eyes of a twenty-seven-year-old, often lonely male, should be. Despite her being at least a dozen years older, my Y chromosome went on alert whenever she was near."

As one would expect, although he knows better than to get involved with a superior, Malcolm succumbs to temptation and a secret affair blossoms. After a night of alcohol and passion, Mimi confesses her inability to think in three dimensions, an absolute must for a neurosurgeon. In a subsequent operation, with Malcolm assisting, Mimi vividly demonstrates her incompetence, refuses the aid of another surgeon, and almost loses the patient. Malcolm reports her with the predictable outcome. He loses his job.

Banished to backwater community emergency rooms, Malcolm thinks Mimi has exacted her revenge. He sees no hope of what, at one time, promised to be a brilliant career, but thinks he might salvage a living filling in for doctors on vacation in rural areas. The Henry Rejelio case has him puzzled. The boy should not have arrested. There seems to be no physical cause, and his diagnostic skills are being questioned. What could have gone wrong?

First time author David Farris follows the dictum of write what you know and succeeds. Presently a pediatric anesthesiologist, Farris has been practicing medicine for over twenty years. It is evident from page one that Dr. Farris knows and can communicate in layman's language the intricacies of the operating room. Lie Still is full of medical detail, painstakingly presented which should delight fans of Michael Palmer and Peter Clement. He startles the reader with the knowledge of how easy it would be for a physician or a nurse to commit an untraceable murder. We must hope medical students take their medical ethics classes seriously.

The presentation of Malcolm Ishmail's dilemma is done in an unusual manner. The story opens with Henry's case in the emergency room, then jumps ahead to Malcolm practicing medicine in Nebraska some seven years later, and finally returns to Phoenix where, chronologically, the story begins. It is essential to the outcome of the plot that the reader understand the time sequence of the events described. Henry's story is related concurrently with Malcolm's residency in Phoenix, so it is a bit confusing since these two threads are actually separated in time by several months.

What is most interesting and thought provoking about Dr. Farris' novel is the issue of quality of life. The wonders of medical science have enabled us to keep body systems functioning, with only minor help from machines, but with said body having virtually no communication with the world around it. Is this individual better off dead? And, if he is better off dead, who should decide to "cause" his death? What is equally worth consideration is the addendum added by the author that all the case histories with the exception of Henry and two others, were drawn from actual cases in Dr. Farris' care.

--Andy Plonka