Privately, so as not to upset oncologists, I have always considered cancer boring. It messes up lives, kills friends, makes orphans and provokes intimate “my journey” memoirs, which turn out either depressing or annoyingly smug. It causes unspeakably silly women’s magazine coverlines such as “Cancer-proof your marriage!” When you’re the one in the chemotherapy chair, and thus not entitled to ignore the subject, you try to take a polite interest in leukocytes and neutrophils, and even read medical papers online while trying not to notice that their best offer is usually “five-year survival”. By then you have become boring yourself and return thankfully to PG Wodehouse and Netflix. However, I have to say that the British science writer Kat Arney’s book Rebel Cell:Cancer, Evolution