Although dialect books have been written on a wide range of subjects, writers on health matters have demonstrated a unique gift for illustrating the futility of the concept. Two such books are Down Home Gynecology by Dr. Marvin and Mary Sue Jaffee and The Laws ov Helth by Dr. Klarenc Wade Mak. In the preface to their book, the Jaffees state a reasonable premise: "My husband, Dr. Jaffee, and I really believe that there is a strong need for a medical book that relates to American women living in rural communities and small towns. We believe that far too many medical books are written in such a style and presented in such an academic format that they do not get read frequently." A commendable purpose, no doubt, but as is so often true in life it's not the plan but rather the execution that's lacking, for the Jaffees' conception of Southern life reads like a script from the Dukes of Hazzard, with Daisy in the stirrups and Boss Hog wielding the cold speculum.

There are not too many books I'm embarrassed to bring to the counter of the local used bookstore; I've always imagined working in a bookstore must be something like how a friend once described being a psychologist: your work makes you privy to the entire gamut of human obsessions, fears, and desires, yet in the end you are simply bored by the whole spectacle. So I've marched to the front with money in hand for such tomes as Winged Phallus and Boy Dates Girl by Gay Head without much of a second thought.

I must admit, however, some unexpected trepidation when I approached the counter with Down Home Gynecology. Perhaps it was the stupidity of the title, perhaps it was the fact that a male in his late twenties can only be buying such a book with mischief on his mind, but I suspect it was the fact that the female silhouette on the cover bears a striking resemblance to the curvaceous vixen that often adorns the mudflaps of your less distinguished semi trucks. I noticed that the clerk asked for the exact amount written on the inside without opening the book, suggesting, in light of the store's rather esoteric and whimsical pricing, that he too had already succumbed to understandable curiosity and taken a peek.

The authors have attempted, in a variety of preposterous ways, to make health information more palatable to us common folk. Except for the preface, for instance, every occurrence of the suffix "-ing" has been replaced by the supposedly countrified "-in' ." We therefore must endure admonitions such as: "Now that you've done that, look at those breasts for any one of the followin' skin reactions; such as: scalin' or discharge or any oozin' stuff; puckerin' or unusual shrivelin' of the nipple (now we're not talkin' about if you're cold, you know that), or unusual redness." This becomes tiresome after, oh, about forty pages or so. Throughout the entire book, the authors only drop their guard once: "Believe it or not, another thing that can cause vaginal irritation is too much douching [sic!] or cleanin' out the vagina." Readers are also treated to the sort of folksy Southernisms that no one living south of the Mason-Dixon line has uttered in the last fifty years. "Next to heart disease, it's the second leadin' cause of kickin' the bucket" they tell us of cancer, children are referred to as "little flowers," and sexually transmitted diseases are referred to as "creepin' critters." Gratuitous references to home brewing are included too, with one chapter entitled "Improvin' with age - like the best whiskey or moonshine." Considering that moonshine, with its strict quality control standards, has been rumored to make imbibers blind, toothless and insane, this hardly seems like a desirable goal for old age.

Equally charming are some of their anecdotes: "In discussin' warts, Dr. Jaffee recalls a patient from Nekoosa named Melinda. On a visit to his office she said, 'Doc, I know I've got either warts or worse yet, it could be I've got one of them there tumors 'cause I see lots of clumps of skin up inside my virginia. I'm mighty worked up about all this, I gotta tell you.' ... Doc Jaffee didn't have the heart to tell her that the virginia should be called her vagina because he believed that as long as she was able to get her thoughts across that was all that mattered." Her confusion is understandable I'd say, for having been to Mississippi, I can assure you that some states could be easily confused with certain orifices.

Even more annoying is The Laws ov Helth by Dr. K.W. Mak, who we're told is "author ov Mak's Gramar; Mental Dinamite, Ek-oes From the Hart, etc." This curious little book, written in 1898, was a stab at bringing the world health information using not only the language of the common man but also "reform spelling." As Dr. Mak explains, "I uze the refomd-speling, for I dunot beleev in speling a wurd wun way and pronouncing it anuther way just bekoz an old fogy by the name ov Webster woz foolish enuf to du so. Thare iz no valid rezun wy we kan't hav a rashaunal sistem ov orthography."

His book, he further explains, "iz ritten in plain and forcibel langwidj that kannot be misunderstood and for that rezun 'teknikel' turms ar avoided az much az posibel. Disezes and insanity ar on the inkrece the wurld over, and it iz utterly uceles for the pepel to expekt eny real assistanc from the so-koled 'regular' Medikal Profeshun..." At first, Dr. Mak's reformed prose seemed easy enough to read, but after only a few pages I found myself suffering from a monumental headache and in a mental fog where even the simplest phrases seemed like some sort of absurd riddle. One chapter is entitled "Surkumcizhun and Masturbashun." Surkumcizhun? I was halfway through the second paragraph before I realized he wasn't talking about Szechuan Chicken. Unfortunately, a number of horrible images had already entered my mind. All I can say is I'm sticking with General Tao's on Chinese buffets from now on.

Included in The Laws ov Helth are a number of illustrations obviously drawn, if the total lack of artistic finesse is any indication, by the good doctor himself. My favorite shows unequivocally the relationship "pekuleyur to men" between the brain and the penis, drawn to perfect scale, which women may find especially illuminating.

Although Dr. Mak and the Jaffees undoubtedly meant well, their books are convincing evidence of the old adage, "The road to hell is paved with good intentions." But, not surprisingly, they seem completely oblivious to the fact that their books are useful only for their camp quotient. The title page of The Laws ov Helth assures us, "Price, Only $3 Dolars. (It iz Wurth a $1000)." The back cover of Down Home Gynecology is more modest, claiming only to be "a unique contribution to the literature on women's health." I must admit, they ain't whislin' Dixie there.