with horrified astonishment the phenomenon of stump fetishists like 'acrotomophiles' who are attracted to female amputees; or 'apotemnophiles' who hanker to be amputees themselves. She even goes on a 'One-Arm Dove Hunt' in Texas.

What she calls her search for her "lost" arm leads Anderson well beyond a moving personal history and into a broader investigation of the significance of the hand and arm in art and literature. There are memorable quotes, arresting observations. For example: nine out of ten people when shown photographs of hands are unable to recognise their own among them.

When it comes to recognising herself, she is brisk. "I hate the thought of being described as 'the woman with one arm' and I never refer to myself as having one arm when asked what I look like." Attractive, self-possessed, even regal, Anderson inevitably invites comparisons with her book's cover photograph showing the Venus de Milo.

France's Ambassador in Constantinople, who shipped the statue to Paris, boasted:

"My girl doesn't have any arms, but that doesn't matter, she can still open the door of the Institute [the Louvre]." To Kenneth Clark, she was the "most splendid physical ideal of humanity". To Anderson, it is because she'd lost her arms that Venus was seen as the 'Eternal Feminine' who needed protection, "but ­ more erotically ­ a woman who was unable to push men away".

Huffy, candid, unself-pitying, the result is a fascinating and empowering book that addresses "the issue of how people deal with anything at all unfamiliar" and teaches that there's nothing to be afraid of.
'Halfway to Venus: A One-Armed Journey' by Sarah Anderson, Umbrella Books, £12.99