THE INTERACTION between literature and medicine has a long history, with Apollo, god of medicine and poetry, as its titular deity, and yet, as G. S. Rousseau has pointed out, medicine has long been omitted from the cultural debate. * Interestingly, many fewer patients than doctors have written about illness,2 with the perhaps inevitable result that for both writers and readers there has been a concern with the processes of infection, contagion and healing and with the thematics of suffering rather than with the poetics of illness. The Aristotelian association of art with catharsis has tended to dominate consideration of literary and artistic texts, and, indeed, from Aeschylus onwards, western culture has privileged the notion of pathei mathein (suffering alone teaches), thereby making of illness an ethical and epistemolA³gica! phenomenon and ensuring that the aesthetics of illness (or, at least, its representation) remains a largely unexplored area. Before the nineteenth century, the literary function of illness was generally thematic, advancing narrative development or serving to comment on a character's personality or moral make-up. In the nineteenth century, however, hospital and laboratory medicine became more sophisticated and widespread in France, and in 1880 Zola set out his concepts of naturalism in Le Roman expA©rimental, which is explicitly and repeatedly indebted to the physiologist Claude Bernard's L'Introduction A la medicine expA©rimentale (1865), the classic manifesto of nineteenthcentury scientific medicine. Although Balzac, Flaubert, the Goncourts and Stendhal all included descriptions of illness and suffering in their works, Zola surpassed all of them in his detailed chronicling of a range of diseases from anthracosis to peritonsilar abscess, smallpox and wound sepsis. There is, however, one singular medical absence in Zola and gen