We love a lone genius, but how many discoveries are truly the work of one person? The Mind Mappers, by Eric Andrew-Gee, is the story of one such dazzling genius, Wilder Penfield, and the man in his shadow, William Cone. 

Cone and Penfield’s careers saw neurosurgery progress from a dark period that had hardly moved on from blind trepanning to a stunning illustrated cartography of the brain, but it’s the pair’s friendship that forms the core of the story. The two are complementary opposites; Penfield is the showman, charming the public and the medical community alike. He laps up recognition for his pioneering epilepsy treatment and the development of the world-famous Neuro Institute in Montreal. Cone, on the other hand, shies away from the spotlight, quietly working with Penfield to develop the Neuro Institute and innovate in the less sexy, but vital, fight against infections in surgery. Andrew-Gee wrestles Cone out of hiding to reveal how Penfield’s greatness was only possible with the gruelling work of his “useful” friend.

It’s astonishing anyone would choose to enter the “terrible profession” of twentieth-century neurosurgery. The slim chances of patient survival took a heavy toll on surgeons, anaesthetics were rudimentary, and penicillin was not yet fully developed. Andrew-Gee handles the gory nature of the subject with delicacy, making the visceral descriptions of surgery surprisingly readable. Without modern methods of sharing new research, developments in the field of neurosurgery trickle slowly into Cone and Penfield’s operating room. The pair have an underdog quality that makes their meteoric rise all the sweeter. Andrew-Gee weaves together this complex and fragmented medical history, centring the enormous difficulties neurosurgeons were up against. 

The Mind Mappers is, in a sense, an autopsy of a friendship, a hunt for the root cause of Cone and Penfield’s differences. The author dissects how differing personalities, miscommunications, and ambition can unravel the strongest of friendships. Even in the happiest moments of Cone and Penfield’s friendship, we are reminded that the story of these two star-crossed heroes will end in tragedy. Andrew-Gee admires both men greatly; even their flaws are described generously. They had excellent bedside manner and frequently took patients who couldn’t pay for their world-class care. The two men seemed blind to the prejudices of their time, hiring women, people of colour, and even French speakers. Only briefly do we glimpse Cone’s moodiness and habit of overworking his residents, or Penfield’s self-absorption and willingness to leave the hard work to other people. The author reserves his harshest critique for Penfield’s betrayal of his loyal friend Cone.

It’s easy to understand Penfield’s motivations, as he left behind reams of diaries, speeches, and books that unpack every thought that went through his head. By contrast, Cone barely wrote anything down. Andrew-Gee seems bewildered by Cone’s unreciprocated loyalty to Penfield, most apparently in his ponderings about Cone’s sexuality. There is some circumstantial evidence suggesting that Cone was a closeted gay man: his close friendship with a hospital orderly, his difficult home life, and hints of a secret that horrified his former mentor, Samuel Orton. However, Andrew-Gee takes his speculation further,  suggesting that Cone’s undying loyalty to Penfield and eventual distress at his betrayal stemmed from unfulfilled romantic yearning. This conclusion feels like a stretch of already thin evidence.

The motivations behind Cone and Penfield’s complex friendship is impossible to fully untangle, like most relationships. However, their battle to map the uncharted territory of the brain is a truly incredible story. The Mind Mappers draws a fascinating image of the early days of neurosurgery, illustrating that it takes many minds to understand the brain. mRb