Lit Corner - Ex-Challenge edition

This post is for the books that don't fit the criteria for either of my challenges, but which I want to talk about anyway.

A Grief Observed by C. S. Lewis.

So, I read A Grief Observed mostly last year, and only finished it at the start of this year. Hey - if it's good enough for Goodreads, it's good enough for me. I really enjoyed this book. Or rather - because enjoyment really isn't the right word - I really appreciated this book. It's very short, and very honest. C. S. Lewis doesn't try to pull any punches with himself. He doesn't try to make grief seem easy, he doesn't try to outline some kind of 'one-size-fits-all' grieving program or sell some magic trick that will make the grief lighter to bear. He simply records his feelings, his doubts and his struggles.

This is a book that concerns itself a lot with God and human spirituality and so has the power to turn off both Christians and atheists at certain points (sometimes both at once, which is probably a skill). But once again, this discussion is appreciable for all in his honesty. I've not really got much more to say about this book. It's a short book, and it does its best speaking for itself.

milk and honey by Rupi Kaur

I was more taken by the title of Kaur's collection than anything else. Which, put that way, seems kind of harsh.

I don't always 'get' poetry. I can study it, and write critical essays about it, but it doesn't quite reach me much of the time, and I always feel a bit like I'm missing out. That being said, there were some poems in milk and honey which hit me directly, no deeper thought required. It's a brave collection, although I sometimes felt like Kaur was aiming for something with a poem but not quite nailing it. I felt uncomfortable sometimes while reading it - mostly while reading the thoughts and feelings that Kaur attributes to others. This is no doubt an honest representation of Kaur's feelings, but somehow those poems felt a disingenuous, or rather, too flat a representation of the situation as a whole. However, I believe milk and honey is very important, and I would heartily recommend it.

The Man who Mistook his Wife for a Hat by Oliver Sacks

I'd been wanting to read this for a while. I had read a couple of the stories previously in Granta #15 and had wanted more. I've always had a quiet, layman's interest in neurology, and this spoke to me. I was happy when I finally got my hands on the book and could get stuck in. It was a longish read - quite dense in subject as well as actual text - but for the most part I really enjoyed it. It's a fascinating insight into how our brains work, and how they compensate when things don't work as expected. I particularly enjoyed the section on 'losses', as it showcases some of my 'pet' intrests - when the brain ceases to function in someway, and how it tries to recover.

What I did not enjoy, however, was the final section of the book. I knew it would be quite uncomfortable reading from the title: The World of the Simple. But I didn't reckon for just how bad it would be. I have never been a neurologist, let alone a neurologist in the 80s, so I really can't say how much of (what is certainly now considered offensive) terminology was still in official use, and what was just a hangover from times not quite so long bygone. Sacks makes reference to the 'Institute of Defectology' so I can sadly believe quite easily that every offensive term used was official and would be found in the patients' records proper. I can stand that. I try not to be offended when no offense is intended. And yet some of these terms are used with an aggressive frequency that made me recoil. Just as I try not to be offended when no offense is meant, I try not to thoughtlessly offend. I have deliberately avoided casual usage of certain words, but it wasn't until reading Sacks describing one of his patients as an 'idiot' and a 'simpleton' over and over again that I really understood just why this word could in any way be helpful. At one point, Sacks even notes that one of his patients reacted negatively to being called an idiot (although he surmises that it was probably the tone, and not the words that caused this reaction. And yet that's telling enough, no? Clearly this is no positive, affirming word, and it was said by someone who didn't view the patient as human, although he was an attendant in the ward where there patient had been admitted). I found it difficult to finish the book, and even debated giving it away, although there were cases in the earlier sections I would dearly like to read again.

It struck me as thoughtless, more than anything else. How can Sacks, at the same time as he is trying to make people understand the consequences of the physical damage  present in the brains of his patients, simply write them off as 'simpletons', 'idiots' or 'idiot savants'? It is the kind of nonchalance that lead to general misunderstanding and misconception of neurological issues, it is the same kind of view of these patients that lead (and still, sadly, leads) to so many more not getting the treatment they truly require. I gave the book a four star review on Goodreads, but just bumped it down to three because even remembering the final quarter of the book makes me want to get on my high horse all over again.

And so, on a rather negative note, concludes this lit corner. Between finishing The Man Who... on Saturday, and beginning to write this review (on Monday) I finished yet another book - Murder Most Unladylike. But as we all know, three is the perfect number for a Lit Corner, so we'll just have to wait until next time...