The Poison Problem

James Patterson has just created the most spine-tingling, creepy-crawling, giggle-producing kid’s detective club ever. That’s ever. Living in the luxurious Arcanum building—with its interior balconies perfect for playing tag, an elevator like an iron birdcage, and quirky neighbors behind every apartment door—has always been fun and games for twelve-year-old Minerva Keen … until her neighbors start getting poisoned. Anyone could be next, and everyone is a suspect, including Minerva herself. To clear her name and help the police crack the case, Minerva starts her own detective club. So what if it has only two other members, one being Minerva’s accident-prone daredevil brother and the other being the biggest and quietest kid in school, who happens to be afraid of his own shadow? Minerva knows that with her brainpower, the club’s sleuthing skills, and case files full of suspects, they can unmask the poisoner … hopefully before it’s too late. This page-turning new mystery series is packed with thrills, chills, laughs, and unforgettable characters and will leave kids eager to join the best club around.

Poisoning is a far more serious health problem in the U.S. than has generally been recognized. It is estimated that more than 4 million poisoning episodes occur annually, with approximately 300,000 cases leading to hospitalization. The field of poison prevention provides some of the most celebrated examples of successful public health interventions, yet surprisingly the current poison control "system" is little more than a loose network of poison control centers, poorly integrated into the larger spheres of public health. To increase their effectiveness, efforts to reduce poisoning need to be linked to a national agenda for public health promotion and injury prevention. Forging a Poison Prevention and Control System recommends a future poison control system with a strong public health infrastructure, a national system of regional poison control centers, federal funding to support core poison control activities, and a national poison information system to track major poisoning epidemics and possible acts of bioterrorism. This framework provides a complete "system" that could offer the best poison prevention and patient care services to meet the needs of the nation in the 21st century.

"Explores in colonial Newport, Rhode Island, the tumultuous marriage of Benedict and Mary Arnold in the 1720s and 1730s. In and through their sordid and possibly criminal marital story, in which Mary is accused of poisoning Benedict, Crane sheds light on the liabilities and possibilities for women under couverture, the complex social and economic networks that bound together the elite and laboring classes of Newport, and the trans-oceanic cultures of trade, consumption, and sociability that came to shape expectations for marital satisfaction on both sides of the Atlantic"--

The story of an infamous poison that left toxic bodies and decimated wildlife in its wake is also a cautionary tale about how corporations stoke the flames of science denialism for profit. The chemical compound DDT first earned fame during World War II by wiping out insects that caused disease and boosting Allied forces to victory. Americans granted it a hero’s homecoming, spraying it on everything from crops and livestock to cupboards and curtains. Then, in 1972, it was banned in the US. But decades after that, a cry arose to demand its return. This is the sweeping narrative of generations of Americans who struggled to make sense of the notorious chemical’s risks and benefits. Historian Elena Conis follows DDT from postwar farms, factories, and suburban enclaves to the floors of Congress and tony social clubs, where industry barons met with Madison Avenue brain trusts to figure out how to sell the idea that a little poison in our food and bodies was nothing to worry about. In an age of spreading misinformation on issues including pesticides, vaccines, and climate change, Conis shows that we need new ways of communicating about science—as a constantly evolving discipline, not an immutable collection of facts—before it’s too late.