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4.06 AVERAGE
4.06 AVERAGE
informative
reflective
medium-paced
I have always loved Oliver Sacks. I’ve read [b:The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat and Other Clinical Tales|63697|The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat and Other Clinical Tales|Oliver Sacks|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1447047702l/63697._SY75_.jpg|882844] about three times, if not more. The thing that made it so impressive for me was not just Sacks’ forensic-level analysis of the neurological cases but his compassion (as I saw it then) for the people he spoke of; it was very much a book about the creativity and flexibility of the brain under extreme circumstances. So, having paused a few years and wanting something ‘not too heavy’ I debated whether to read Awakenings (where he describes patients suffering for decades with sleeping sickness, which is temporarily reversed by LDopa) but I read a review that disquieted me, suggesting that he was overly fascinated by the effects of LDopa and continued to give it, even when the benefits to patients were destructive.
I decided to give the ethics of it all a body swerve, and so plumped for this book ‘An Anthropologist on Mars’. I found, however, that that sense of disquiet must have carried over, and at first, it was hard to say why. The case studies are mostly similar to those in The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat, and they are told in a similar vein: lots of scientific detail and reflections on what this means not just for neurology but for being human. And there lies the problem I think. Sacks spends a lot of time, both in the first book and in this one, discussing what people’s neurological defects mean for their identity, their ability to communicate, and hence, in his eyes, whether they are proper people, in other words fully human in the way that he is fully human. This, by the way, is a scientific enterprise and not a religious one for him; but an uncomfortable one nevertheless.
In this book, Sacks not only details his anonymized patients, but also three non-anonymous cases; that of a painter who has only painted pictures of his old childhood home in Pontito, Italy, the teenage autistic artist Steven Wiltshire, and the well-known autistic expert on humane animal treatment, Temple Grandin. I knew already about the latter two. Sacks writes about them in the exact same way he writes up his anonymous case studies, and there’s a good deal of care in there; but there’s also this constant returning to whether they have feelings, identities, and are humans in the way that he is. When Steven waves and says hi to Sacks on a holiday trip they are taking together, he doubts whether there’s any real social awareness behind it. Why? He seems oblivious to the fact that all people, whether autistic or not, play along with social norms and don’t always like or are interested in others that we wave at or ask ‘how are you today’? It might well be some people have more difficulty playing along or have to be taught those norms, but that’s no need to doubt their humanness as a consequence. Also, a lot of this book seems performative; he goes on holiday with Steven to study him, not because he likes his company. He goes to visit Temple Grandin because she’s famous and autistic so he can ‘write her up’. This again, is disquieting.
On the one hand, Sacks’ accounts of his work are refreshingly pre-Big Pharma. His neurology is the neurology of brain mapping and listening carefully to patient histories, and there is only a little description of the drugs they might take. On the other, it feels vaguely voyeuristic. I’d rather read Temple Grandin’s own account of her autism; in fact, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
I decided to give the ethics of it all a body swerve, and so plumped for this book ‘An Anthropologist on Mars’. I found, however, that that sense of disquiet must have carried over, and at first, it was hard to say why. The case studies are mostly similar to those in The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat, and they are told in a similar vein: lots of scientific detail and reflections on what this means not just for neurology but for being human. And there lies the problem I think. Sacks spends a lot of time, both in the first book and in this one, discussing what people’s neurological defects mean for their identity, their ability to communicate, and hence, in his eyes, whether they are proper people, in other words fully human in the way that he is fully human. This, by the way, is a scientific enterprise and not a religious one for him; but an uncomfortable one nevertheless.
In this book, Sacks not only details his anonymized patients, but also three non-anonymous cases; that of a painter who has only painted pictures of his old childhood home in Pontito, Italy, the teenage autistic artist Steven Wiltshire, and the well-known autistic expert on humane animal treatment, Temple Grandin. I knew already about the latter two. Sacks writes about them in the exact same way he writes up his anonymous case studies, and there’s a good deal of care in there; but there’s also this constant returning to whether they have feelings, identities, and are humans in the way that he is. When Steven waves and says hi to Sacks on a holiday trip they are taking together, he doubts whether there’s any real social awareness behind it. Why? He seems oblivious to the fact that all people, whether autistic or not, play along with social norms and don’t always like or are interested in others that we wave at or ask ‘how are you today’? It might well be some people have more difficulty playing along or have to be taught those norms, but that’s no need to doubt their humanness as a consequence. Also, a lot of this book seems performative; he goes on holiday with Steven to study him, not because he likes his company. He goes to visit Temple Grandin because she’s famous and autistic so he can ‘write her up’. This again, is disquieting.
On the one hand, Sacks’ accounts of his work are refreshingly pre-Big Pharma. His neurology is the neurology of brain mapping and listening carefully to patient histories, and there is only a little description of the drugs they might take. On the other, it feels vaguely voyeuristic. I’d rather read Temple Grandin’s own account of her autism; in fact, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
In youth, the way people question their sexuality...After reading the titular essay, I thought I might have Asperger's.
I don't.
I don't.
informative
reflective
slow-paced
This book was completely engrossing. Written by neurologist Sacks, the cases are fascinating glimpses into the still unknown workings of the brain. Sacks' exploration of these cases are both scientific and personal, as the author spends time with the actual people whose conditions he has studied. The chapters on the colorblind painter and Dr. Temple Grandin were favorites, with touching observations. A book with great insight into the human condition.
challenging
informative
reflective
slow-paced
I feel like I am a terrible person for not liking this book more. I liked the stories, but felt like most of them went on too long and were too meandering. I just can't get down with Sacks' writing style. I know tons of people love his books, so anyone reading this review should try it for themselves. I do love hearing Sacks on the radio though, so if you don't like his writing search out his appearances on Radiolab!
challenging
informative
inspiring
reflective
slow-paced
Leggere Sacks mi affascina sempre. E' un viaggio in un mondo surreale e parallelo, sembra quasi di osservare dei pesci esotici dentro un acquario, vicinissimo a noi eppure così diverso, così improbabile. Ma, riflettendoci, basta un nulla, una malattia, un incidente, e si può entrare a far parte di quel mondo, essere parte dell'acquario e... buonanotte. La nostra mente così perfetta, che stabilisce la dimensione del nostro personale mondo, potrebbe cambiare, addirittura tanto da non farci avere più cognizione del prima o del dopo... Potremmo essere sospesi in un eterno passato o scordare completamente come si fa a vedere.
Tre brevi impressioni su tutto quanto mi ha colpito del libro:
1) la nostra rappresentazione del mondo non è scontata e non è detto sia uguale per tutti. Semplici variazioni organiche ci rendono unici nel pensiero e nella personalità.
2) quelle che possono apparire come gravi menomazioni nel cervello umano, in fondo, forniscono a chi le subisce diverse modalità di rappresentazione della realtà e non sempre e comunque rappresentano uno svantaggio o sono sinonimo di una "vita di serie B". Emblematico è il caso dell'antropologa su Marte, Temple, una ragazza con la sindrome di Asperger, che pure non riuscendo a comprendere pienamente i sentimenti degli altri esseri umani, capisce benissimo quelli degli animali.
3) Sacks nell'acquario ci entra e vive con i pesci: quanti altri medici sanno farlo?
Tre brevi impressioni su tutto quanto mi ha colpito del libro:
1) la nostra rappresentazione del mondo non è scontata e non è detto sia uguale per tutti. Semplici variazioni organiche ci rendono unici nel pensiero e nella personalità.
2) quelle che possono apparire come gravi menomazioni nel cervello umano, in fondo, forniscono a chi le subisce diverse modalità di rappresentazione della realtà e non sempre e comunque rappresentano uno svantaggio o sono sinonimo di una "vita di serie B". Emblematico è il caso dell'antropologa su Marte, Temple, una ragazza con la sindrome di Asperger, che pure non riuscendo a comprendere pienamente i sentimenti degli altri esseri umani, capisce benissimo quelli degli animali.
3) Sacks nell'acquario ci entra e vive con i pesci: quanti altri medici sanno farlo?