Slow Death By Rubber Duck:
How the Toxic Chemistry of Everyday Life Affects Our Health
by Rick Smith and Bruce Lourie (with Sarah Dopp)
Alfred A. Knopf Canada 2009, 323 pp. $32.00

Before the average Canadian woman drinks her morning coffee, she has applied approximately 126 different chemicals from 12 different products to her body, face, and hair. This is not to mention the average toddler, whose budding little endocrine system risks hormone disruption after exposure to phthalates, a chemical agent used as a softener found in plastic toys.

Meanwhile, the typical Canadian household is marinating in a sea of bisphenol-A (BPA), a plasticizer found in everything from water bottles, CDs, to your fancy laptops.

These are but a fraction of the ugly facts painstakingly compiled in Slow Death by Rubber Duck: How the Toxic Chemicals of Everyday Life Affects Our Health. You will read and weep. But you will also arm yourself with knowledge that can help you make safer consumer choices.

Veteran environmental activists Bruce Lourie and Rick Smith confess that their book's main argument isn't entirely original. They explain that catastrophic human exposure to chemical toxins, dating back to ancient Greece, is certainly not new. Yet they provide a robust reassessment of why the situation in 2009 is more dangerous than before.

One need only look to the 1920s, when women employed in watch factories used radium to paint luminescent dials and perished in droves from radiation-induced cancer. Or, to the 18th century, when workers in beaver felt hat factories went mad after breathing toxic mercury fumes (think of the 'Mad Hatter' in Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland).

Now, however, instead of being local and specific, exposure to environmental toxins is global and virtually unavoidable by age and occupation. Whether you are an Inuk elder, a teenager in Vancouver or a Prairie farmer: we all risk a "slow death by rubber duck." Our bodies have become landmines for toxic substances seeping into our bloodstream from food, flame retardants, and sadly, the plastics found in the proverbial bath toy of the book's title.

The authors personalize the issue by testing their own blood for evidence of toxins, somthing similar to the dramatic effect used in documentaries like Homo Toxicus and, more famously, Super Size Me, where director Morgan Spurlock ate MacDonald's for a month and monitored the deterioration of his health.

The authors camp out in Lourie's condo, taking daily blood draws after intentionally upping their exposure to substances like mercury and perfluorinated compounds (PFCs used in stain-resistant treatment of carpets).

Their experimental planning and design is not always the most rigorous, and their methods may annoy readers looking for a more scientific approach. In one instance, after an extensive discussion of the pesticide 2,4-D, testing for its levels is simply nixed; it has already been banned in their home province of Ontario.

But the results have shock value. Take Lourie's mercury experiment; a mere three days of eating delectable sushi and gourmet tuna steaks doubled existing levels in his blood. Keep in mind that 'safe' levels of mercury in the human body aren't yet established.

Despite the ominous title, Slow Death By Rubber Duck is really a book about hope. It's an invaluable guide for making smart consumer choices, as well as proof positive that committed activism has led to more effective policing of the chemical industry. We all risk "slow death by rubber duck." But as the authors emphatically note, our reflexes for challenging government and industry are faster than ever before.

Deborah Ostrovsky

BCAM members march down Ste-Catherine to raise awareness of toxins in personal care products and in honour of Mother's Day.

BCAM's Garage Sale on June 20th was a success, netting $600 for the organization. Member and volunteer worker Deena Dlusy-Apel is shown with some of the treasures for sale.