When Alistair Maclean won a short-story competition, run by the Glasgow Herald’s Weekend page in 1954, Iris I. J. M. Gibson of Wellmeadow House, Paisley, was named runner-up for her story 'Now Such Light', earning the (then) considerable sum of £50.
We all know what became of MacLean after the publication of 'The Dileas'. But what of the others?
Unlike MacLean, Gibson did not go on to write thrillers. Instead, she pursued a career in medicine, although her interest in mystery never quite left her. Her inquiries simply took a different form: the mysteries of illness, history, and the human body.
Medical Journals
Iris Gibson became a consultant physician in geriatric medicine and went on to publish extensively in several respected medical journals.
Among her most cited works is 'Death Masks Unlimited' (1985), in which she traces the cultural and historical significance of death masks[1].
She also turned her attention to literary history, attempting to diagnose the long and debilitating illness of Dorothy Wordsworth (1771–1855)[2].
Dorothy Wordsworth was an English writer, poet, and diarist She was the sister of the Romantic poet William Wordsworth (1770-1850), and the two were close all their adult lives. Dorothy Wordsworth had no ambitions to be a public author, yet she left behind numerous letters, diary entries, topographical descriptions, poems, and other writings. In 1829, Dorothy Wordsworth fell seriously ill. After a brief recovery, her condition worsened again in 1831, and she continued to suffer from an unknown degenerative illness for the remainder of her life.
What did ail Dorothy Wordsworth?
Gibson suggests that Dorothy’s symptoms were consistent with migraine, due to considerable physical and mental activity, to the stress of William's problems and struggles with composition, and her undue anxiety about him. She points to the demanding lifestyle shared by the Wordsworth circle:
Gibson also highlights the influence of Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834) who played a significant part in both their lives. He was a poet of genius, a man of great vitality and charm, evasive, an opium addict, and in an unhappy marriage. 'I am in no doubt,' writes Gibson, 'that Dorothy found him sexually attractive and that this and Coleridge's own problems contributed to the migraine. It is not so much when Coleridge is actually present that she gets migraine, but farewells precipitate attacks.'
'It is difficult to make clear the degree of Wordsworthian physical and mental overactivity,' Iris Gibson continues, 'They walked incessantly. They talked incessantly. They wrote letters and read incessantly.'
The striking phrase 'a Drench of sleep' is a vivid, somewhat archaic expression meaning a heavy, saturating, or profound bout of sleep — like being thoroughly 'drenched' or soaked in it. It originates from Dorothy Wordsworth's journals (the above entry is from January 10, 1803), where she describes staying in bed for an extended, restorative sleep, likely to recover from fatigue or headache. In modern contexts, especially among those familiar with migraine, this phrase is sometimes referenced to describe the intense, overwhelming need for deep sleep that can accompany or follow a migraine attack.
The Death of Iris Gibson
Archaeology was also a passion of Iris Gibson. However, when on an expedition to Turkey, she tumbled into a deep pit and was badly injured. She never fully recovered, and was forced to retire in 1988. Iris Gibson died untimely on April 15, 1993.
Today, Iris Gibson is largely forgotten—a fate not uncommon for those who stand just outside the spotlight of literary fame. Yet her life tells a compelling story of a writer who turned to medicine, of a physician who pursued intellectual curiosity across disciplines, and of a mind that never lost its fascination with mystery.


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