For two days, Rick Smith and Bruce Lourie confined themselves to a small room and did what on the face of it seem like some unremarkable things. They showered, shampooed, and shaved. They ate tuna sandwiches and canned food reheated in plastic containers. They sat on a couch and played Guitar Hero on a carpet treated with stain repellent.

Those are things that many of us might do on any given day -- but unlike the rest of us, Smith and Lourie closely monitored their blood and urine the whole time for seven toxic chemicals. Even though they made a conscious effort to avoid some of these chemicals before their experiment, after two days of "normal" activity, they found drastically elevated levels of toxics in their bodies.

"Pollution is now so pervasive that it's become a marinade in which we all bathe every day," they write in Slow Death by Rubber Duck. "Pollution is actually inside us all. It's seeped into our bodies. And in many cases, once in, it's impossible to get out."

The authors, both prominent Canadian environmentalists, have been working for years to publicize the health risks of toxic chemical exposure -- not just exposure as a result of say, an industrial accident, but the dangers of swimming in a sea of unregulated chemicals, as most of us unwittingly do every day.

In the United States, some 82,000-odd chemicals are in use, appearing in our food, toys, air, water, clothing, furniture, electronics -- just about everywhere. Only 200 of these chemicals have ever been tested for toxicity, and only five have ever been banned under the Toxic Substances Control Act, the nation's main law for regulating commercial chemicals. Even asbestos, a known cancer-causing agent, can still be used legally in insulation, dry-wall, and other homebuilding materials.

That notoriously toothless law could be revised this year, and Rubber Duck makes a colorful -- perhaps too colorful -- case for this much-needed change.

It's hard to write a book this scary without being labeled as scaremongering -- and indeed, the authors have been skewered as such by the Wall Street Journal editorial page and others. But the insinuation of toxic chemicals into our lives is, as the authors point out, scary stuff. A growing body of research is linking childhood and prenatal exposures to some of these chemicals with an alarming range of disorders and disease, including autism, ADHD, certain cancers, diabetes, abnormal genital development, infertility, and Parkinson's.

With a list of potential health risks this alarming, it seems unthinkable that products containing these chemicals are still on store shelves and in our homes. Smith and Lourie explain this situation by delving into the history of these chemicals, the powerful corporations that created them, the ineffectual government agencies that failed to regulate them, and the everyday heroes who are fighting to change a deeply entrenched system that supports corporate profits over human health.

The authors examine seven toxic chemicals: phthalates, found in the eponymous rubber duck; PFCs, the type of chemical found in Teflon and stain-repellents; brominated flame retardants, used widely in clothing and electronics; mercury, found in fish; triclosan, an antibacterial chemical used in hand soaps and other personal care products; the pesticide 2,4-D, commonly used in lawn treatments; and the now infamous plastic-making chemical, BPA.

Their bodily experiments aren't the meat of the book. It's a gimmick that also provides a convenient structural backbone for their story. What makes this tale of modern pollution lively and engaging is its cast of characters -- the lobbyists, scientists, lawyers, and just plain folks who realize something isn't right. The chapter on Teflon and PFCs, for example, focuses on the story of Joe Kiger, a high school football coach in Parkersburg, West Virginia, who is the lead plaintiff in a class action suit against DuPont, his town's biggest employer. Kiger's everyday heroism is as inspiring as DuPont's actions are disturbing - the company was hit with a $16.5 million fine for failing to properly disclose the risks of the chemicals it was making and selling.

Smith and Lourie also attempt to liven up their tale with numerous pop culture references and song lyrics, a trick they lay on a bit too thick. To illustrate Americans' obsession with hygiene and the spread of the antibacterial triclosan, they write: "Oscar-nominated actor Terrence Howard requires the women he dates to use baby wipes rather than toilet paper in the washroom, because to do otherwise would be unclean." Ick. If I wanted to know that, I'd be reading TMZ, not this book.

The authors are convincing in their illustration of the pervasiveness of toxic chemicals in our lives, as well as the disturbing history of how this came to pass. They are less convincing, however, when they attempt to address the issue of the smoking gun, or rather, the lack of it, when it comes to linking certain toxic chemicals to human illness. They write:

"Many citizens still possess an innate sense of danger, and although their observations may not be entirely accurate and are therefore not permissible in a regulatory context, this innate instinct should not be completely ignored. Rachel Carson was on to something and so was Lois Gibbs at Love Canal. So was Erin Brockovich ... They may not always have epidemiological data or double blind longitudinal health studies to present, but they have eyes and common sense."

I barely suppressed a groan when I read this argument, which seemed to undercut all the scientific evidence the authors have painstakingly footnoted throughout the book, as well as the work of the scientists they interviewed. The truth is that the study of the human health effects of these chemicals is relatively new, and it could take decades to form a strong scientific consensus. That's how science works. But that doesn't mean we have to rely on someone's tingly spider-sense to take action. The evidence that these chemicals cause harm is mounting, and what we know so far is troubling enough to suggest that precaution would be in order.

As the authors were writing this book, Canada declared BPA toxic, Europe banned certain flame-retardant chemicals in televisions, and the United States restricted the use of hormone-disrupting chemicals in plastic children's toys. It's a start, but the real shift in this country will depend on how the Toxic Substances Control Act is reformed. Will the burden still be on consumers to decipher ingredient labels, recycling symbols and surf nonprofit websites to find information about hidden toxic chemicals? Or will manufacturers and government step up and take responsibility for public health and product quality?

I hope for the latter, but in the meantime, I'll still be scrutinizing the numbers on the bottoms of plastic containers while chanting this handy rhyme I picked up from Rubber Duck: "Four, five, one and two; all the rest are bad for you."