Oliver Sacks is a great storyteller; problems in this book are not faults in storytelling: 1) This is an older book, which uses now-out-dated terms like the r-word, idiot, etc. These were diagnoses when he was writing, but they can be jarring now. 2) Though a man of varied interests, his training is as a medical doctor, and his sidesteps into theology or social writing suffers for it. Sacks's idea of the soul is difficult to tease out, but might be interpreted as dehumanizing-- though I don't see this as his intent. He writes in a completely medical model, and I often find it unnerving how casually he dismisses the culpability of the science itself for the mistreatment of his patients. He does not examine the field closely as he uses its tools. In particular, this shows in how his understanding of autism is wildly out-dated. However, with these caveats, this is a fascinating book. While there are these interesting exceptions, Sacks is a compassionate and open-minded writer.