I picked up An Anthropologist on Mars on an offhand recommendation from a friend, and read The Man Who Mistook his Wife for a Hat shortly afterwards. Both are fascinating collections of short stories, biographical sketches of people with unusual neurological disorders. Dr. Sacks is a skilled writer as well as a neurologist. His use of specific sensory details drew me into the stories he tells and helped me connect with the characters described despite the fact that their experience of life differs vastly from mine.
The people portrayed range from a musician for whom every face belongs to a stranger, to a professional painter suddenly struck with colorblindness, to a surgeon whose overabundance of nervous energy manifests in random, obsessive movements, to brilliant artists who are also severely autistic. In each case Sacks does an excellent job of presenting his subjects as human and relatable. Some of his stories introduced me to ways of thinking and viewing the world I scarcely would’ve though possible, such as that of a woman with no conception of ‘left’— she can only turn right, look right, think about things on her right side. The writing is rather erudite, and while I followed the stories easily enough, some of Sacks’ allusions to other neurological case studies flew over my head. However, as I continued reading, I grew more and more familiar with his field of study and grew able to better understand what he was talking about. Like any profession, neurology has its own vocabulary. You will learn some of it if you read these books. Random philosophical thoughts Some of the stories in these collections can be disturbing because they raise questions about what composes the very core of one’s existence. Some of Sack’s subjects have lost all ability to form new memories. Others appeared serious and thoughtful, before a head injury changed them into obsessive jokers. Emotions and memories alike are at the mercy of certain structures in the brain. Damage to them can cause a seeming paradigm shift in personality. What is ‘the image of God’, then? That is, what fundamental trait sets humanity apart from animals? Our ability to empathize with others, to think rationally, or to create new things have all been offered up as explanations. But these abilities are dependent on a physical organ. They can be lost if the brain is damaged. But the brain-damaged are certainly not less human than others. Nor are children, although their abilities to do all those things are less developed than an adult’s. Reading Sack’s work reminded me of what really lies at the core of our being— not intellectual prowess, but the ability to love and be loved by an infinite God. The tasks I can accomplish with my brain are great, but ultimately insignificant except in the way they influence my relationship with my Creator. I do not think any brain damage can impede God’s ability to make himself known. In some cases— maybe in the majority of cases— he is present in a way that is missed. In An Anthropologist on Mars, autistic professor Temple Grandin says that she is unable to feel numinous awe. She says, “When I look up at the stars at night, I know I should get a ‘numinous’ feeling, but I don’t. I can understand it intellectually.” For Temple, her autism reduces the world to mere logic. Everything is a purely cognitive concept to be ordered and categorized. However, I suspect she may be wrong in her own understanding of how she views the world. She may indeed feel numinous awe, the sense of coming up against something mind-bogglingly bigger than herself— but perhaps in a slightly different way. After all, she cannot feel anyone’s else’s emotions to know what they are describing when they say ‘numinous awe’. Perhaps she misinterpreted her emotions. My reason for speculating this comes from the end of Temple’s chapter, which reads: “I like to hope that even if there’s no personal afterlife, some energy impression is left in the universe... Most people can pass on genes—I can pass on thoughts or what I write. This is what I get very upset at...” Temple, who was driving, suddenly faltered and wept. “I’ve read that libraries are where immortality lies... I don’t want my thoughts to die with me... I want to have done something... I’m not interested in power, or piles of money. I want to leave something behind. I want to make a positive contribution—know that my life has a meaning.” In her fear of dying and being erased, I believe she does express numinous awe. Perhaps the night sky does not make Temple feel her own smallness. That is fine. But when she ponders death she realizes, and she desperately to leave an impact that will continue after she is gone. However, no matter how strong an energy impression she leaves on the universe, it will pass away. Books will rot. The ideas she put in them will one day be forgotten, perhaps along with her language and entire civilization. Eventually the sun will expand and consume the earth. Eons after that, energy will equalize across the entire universe, leading to a heat death that will carry on for all eternity. The consuming power of death can only be escaped through the eternal God. Her search for meaning, too, reflects a desire built into the human soul, a desire that ultimately can only be satisfied through God. Fear of oblivion and a longing for meaning are not the same as a personal relationship with God, but they are signs that he is there and wants a relationship with Temple, wants to fulfill all the needs of her soul. I only know Temple Grandin from the book and cannot be sure of her own personal situation, but I believe the ideas expressed here are generally sound. Content A few quoted expletives, and occasional frank discussion of sexual behavior Conclusion The Man Who Mistook his Wife for a Hat and An Anthropologist on Mar are both well-written windows into experiences of life very different from my own (and probably yours, too). Recommended for anyone looking either for a good book to read, or to expand his understanding of human nature.
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Progress on Doombear, Rough draft:10%
Progress on The Lore of Yore, third draft:
100%
"In truth, by leaving, I was seeking only one thing. A journey."
-Oathbringer, pg 981 Types of blog posts:
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