The Poison Principle (2005)

By Gail Bell
Quite a satisfying non-fiction book about poisons, poisoners and the poisoned. The author’s family has its own poisoned past, the investigation of which she threads through the narrative. More of a “researched stream of consciousness”, as my friend Libby said, than a manifesto of any kind, I have to say I did get a bit frustrated towards the end with all Bell’s wafty semi-philosophical ramblings when all I wanted to know really was if her grandfather really poisoned his sons or not. (Obviously not the son that eventually begat Bell, though). That is the inherent problem of this type of book, I suppose, where you begin on page one with a mystery to be solved, knowing you will not find out the answer until page last. Somehow, you have to keep the suspense going, and it wavered a bit for me by the end. For instance, I am not really interested in Bell’s idle imaginings of how Cleopatra may have been saved by one of her poor handmaidens when she was trying to kill herself via snakebite – this has too much of the “well the Romans COULD have built it this way” SBS faux-history documentary for my liking.

But still, quite a fascinating read, and I may be employing a food taster once I am rich enough because Bell’s right, we do every day partake of thousands of small acts of faith, e.g. that the sandwich we bought from the shops for lunch isn’t poisoned – accidentally or deliberately. And by the time I’m wealthy enough to afford a food taster I’d probably have lots of enemies; maybe I could even claim it as a tax deduction.

Rating: 7.0 out of 10
Not to be read at a restaurant, or in the doctor’s waiting room, and you might want to have the Poisons Information Centre on speed-dial.