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You Can Get Well

You Can Get Well

Dedicated to a person whose name I do not know, who lived I know not when, but who first said, “An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.”


Adelle Davis reminds me of an interesting aunt who comes to visit. Her visits are always anticipated pleasurably in the expectation that we’ll learn something new about ourselves and how we function.

She knows her subject. And, unlike so many in her field, she is able to EXPLAIN IT TO OTHERS. Her style is clear, readable, casual, conversational, yet meaty with scientific facts, simply told.

Raised on anIndianafarm, she took her professional training atPurdueUniversityand theUniversityofCalifornia. Later she did post graduate work atColumbiaUniversityand UCLA. She earned her degree of Master of Science at theUniversityofSouthern California Medical School. After she completed training as a dietitian atBellevueHospital, she became Nutritional Consultant and Supervisor of Health Education in the Public Schools inNew York City.

Millions of her books have been sold. She helped hundreds of thousands of people on the road to better health. Her daily contact with people and their health problems makes her book meet your problem, discussed in your language.

Not very long ago, it was widely accepted that your diet had little or nothing to do with your health. Thanks are due to Addle Davis for playing a key role in correcting this fallacy.

John Lust, New York, N.Y. September, 1975



Marie and I had talked diet all afternoon.

“I wanted to ask you,” she said, “which food is . . .”

“Please, Marie,” I interrupted, “I’m sick of talking diet.”

She turned quickly, looking at me in astonishment.

“I’ve a friend who’s a radio engineer,” I explained. “He’s an expert, and I remember hearing him say that no matter where he went, people always made him talk radios. Said he never goes to visit anyone that a radio isn’t on the blink and he is asked to fix it.” I smiled drily. “I’m in the same boat. I talk diet to patients, doctors, radio listeners, women’s clubs, and men’s luncheons. You heard the conversation at May’s house. At Miller’s supper party the other night, we talked about diet to improve eyesight. Yesterday Cynthia, Walter, and I were having a bit to eat, and believe it or not, we talked about diet to grow hair.”

“It’s because you’re so enthusiastic and interested in the subject,” Marie said comfortingly. “I’ve an idea. Write a book about these talks and conversations. People would learn more that way than by wading through hundreds of pages of dry texts.”

The longer I thought about her suggestion, the better I liked it. Others seemed to like it too.

This book is the result, written because people are interested in the preservation of their health and because progress along the road between research findings and common knowledge, applied to ones’ daily life, is slow. The conversations actually took place, essentially as they have been given. Many of the characters have requested that I use their own names; other names are changed, the substitutes largely chosen by the people themselves. In every case history, the names used are fictitious. I was surprised to find that people are usually flattered to be put into a book. In fact, my neighbor’s young daughter said, after she had read part of the manuscript, “If I ask you enough ques­tions, will you make me a character in your book?”

Adelle Davis