Gil's All Fright Diner A. Lee Martinez. Nothing to See Here Kevin Wilson. Catch 50th Anniversary Edition Joseph Heller. Sellevision: A Novel Augusten Burroughs. Related Audiobooks Free with a 30 day trial from Scribd. Wonder Boys Michael Chabon. Deep Dish Mary Kay Andrews. The Unconsoled Kazuo Ishiguro. The Dilbert Principle Scott Adams. Shopgirl Steve Martin. She was a poor Southern tobacco farmer who worked the same land as her slave ancestors, yet her cells—taken without her knowledge—became one of the most important tools in medicine.
Yet Henrietta Lacks remains virtually unknown, buried in an unmarked grave. And though the cells had launched a multimillion-dollar industry that sells human biological materials, her family never saw any of the profits. As Rebecca Skloot so brilliantly shows, the story of the Lacks family—past and present—is inextricably connected to the dark history of experimentation on African Americans, the birth of bioethics, and the legal battles over whether we control the stuff we are made of.
She was consumed with questions: Had scientists cloned her mother? Did it hurt her when researchers infected her cells with viruses and shot them into space? What happened to her sister, Elsie, who died in a mental institution at the age of fifteen?
Intimate in feeling, astonishing in scope, and impossible to put down, The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks captures the beauty and drama of scientific discovery, as well as its human consequences. Be the first to like this. Total views. But all of the attempts from doctor failed but the cells of Henrietta never died.
Henrietta Lacks died because of her cancer and was buried in an unmarked grave on her family land at the age of thirty-one years. No one had any idea that a part of her body is still alive and is growing in labs.
After 37 years of her death, Rebecca Skloot was a high school student who came to know about the immortal cell of Henrietta and the story continues. Your email address will not be published. Save my name, email, and website in this browser for the next time I comment. Non Fiction. Facebook Twitter Pinterest Telegram Whatsapp. Report this app Download links do not work There is a new version Others. Download File. Download File Now. As I graduated from high school and worked my way through college toward a biology degree, HeLa cells were omnipresent.
I heard about them in histology, neurology, pathology; I used them in experiments on how neighboring cells communicate. But after Mr. Defler, no one mentioned Henrietta. When I got my first computer in the mid-nineties and started using the Internet, I searched for information about her, but found only confused snippets: most sites said her name was Helen Lane; some said she died in the thirties; others said the forties, fifties, or even sixties.
Some said ovarian cancer killed her, others said breast or cervical cancer. Eventually I tracked down a few magazine articles about her from the seventies. I decided not to let them. Her middle son in military uniform, smiling and holding a baby. Except Deborah. She stands in the foreground looking alone, almost as if someone pasted her into the photo after the fact. But those eyes glare at the camera, hard and serious.
Deborah and I came from very different cultures: I grew up white and agnostic in the Pacific Northwest, my roots half New York Jew and half Midwestern Protestant; Deborah was a deeply religious black Christian from the South. She grew up in a black neighborhood that was one of the poorest and most dangerous in the country; I grew up in a safe, quiet middle-class neighborhood in a predominantly white city and went to high school with a total of two black students.
Including me. The Lackses challenged everything I thought I knew about faith, science, journalism, and race.
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