THE HORSEMAN ON THE ROOF (JEAN GIONO) AND THE LIMITS OF AUTOPSY

Here you have a man (or woman) opened up from head to foot like an ox at a butcher shop and there, leaning over him (or her) with all his implements, the artist. He may know quite well what the man (or woman) died of. But “why,” in its deeper sense, is another matter. Another matter, which, to be brought into the open, would require knowledge of the “how”: how this man (or this woman) had lived. This man (or woman) has loved; hated; lied; suffered; and enjoyed the love, hatred, and lies of others. But no trace of all this at the autopsy

You can´t reach for the moon. Human soul is impenetrable and plausible. It would be very unfair that the autopsy gave away about our privacy. And the other way round, your closest friend doesn´t know about your pancreas.

It´s curious how this middle-20th-century novel is pioneer in the use of inclusive language