I've always enjoyed reading books about medical detectives, e.g. "The Family That Couldn't Sleep" by D.T. Max and "The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat" by Oliver Sacks. Two British Forensic Pathologists (Sir Sydney Smith--"Mostly Murder" and Professor Keith Simpson--"Forty Years of Murder") are heroes to me, so this show starring Dr. G is a 'must see.' She does not disappoint. It's just amazing the way she can take a dead body and make it speak to her--and explain her findings to her audience. The damndest things can kill us--like an amoeba up one's nose.
Although it scares me, I approve of the way she keeps emphasizing the most common ways we end up in her morgue: smoking; drinking; eating too much; not wearing a seat belt; and not getting our blood pressure and cholesterol checked.
The show's producers hoke up the 'high priestess' aspect of Dr. G's job: she snaps on her gloves, looking suitably solemn; her robe billows out behind her as she strides past rows of sheeted corpses. I just wish they would keep their camera from lingering on that soup ladle dripping godknowswhat. Then I have to stop thinking about science and go 'Yuckkkk!'