There is a weight on everyone’s back. Life is hard. People can go about their days not knowing what they’re carrying around with them and eventually they’ll crack. For Jean-Dominique Bauby that weight was light until Friday December 8th, 1995. After picking up his son for a weekend together, Bauby had a stroke. Bauby’s massive stroke left him in a coma for 20 days and when he awoke he found himself suffering of Locked-In Syndrome, which doctors C.J. Borthwick and R. Crossley define as, “patients who become unable to speak or move as the result of certain rare cerebra-vascular accidents involving the brainstem” (387). Bauby describes his weight as a diving bell. Willie Howard writes, “Early diving bells were nothing more than inverted buckets that trapped air…the wooden diving bell built in 1691 by British astronomer Edmond Halley. Its breakthrough technology of the day included supplies of fresh air from barrels, a valve to release stale air, a bench seat, a barometer for a depth gauge and a helmet that let divers venture outside the bell” (Diving). In addition to his paralysis and muteness Bauby’s right eye had to be sewn shut because it was drying out. Bauby, with the help of his speech therapist began to communicate by blinking his one good eye. Bauby would blink at the letter when a specialized alphabet ordered from most common to least common was read to him. Letters formed words and words then formed sentences. Through these sentences his butterfly was able to take flight in the form of his imagination and he was able to communicate to the outside world. That painstaking communication gave us The Diving Bell and the Butterfly.
Bauby’s difficulty in communicating did not seem to hinder his ability to write beautiful prose about his life, both before and after his stroke. Bauby writes in the prologue, “Through the frayed curtain at my window, a wan glow announces the break of day. My heels hurt, my head weighs a ton, and something like a giant invisible diving bell holds my body prisoner” (Bauby 3). Bauby cannot move or talk and yet has the wherewithal to notice the sunlight coming in through his hospital room window. From the first line of the book it’s hard to miss the fact that Bauby sees the big picture. He’s not navel gazing nor saying “woe is me” but rather focusing on the beauty around him and paints a picture for the reader of what he is feeling. Like Bauby, everyone has a similar weight, some heavier than others but everyone has one. All people are locked-in to something. Their souls, are locked into their bodies. When reading Bauby’s memoir it is as if the reader is not merely reading his words but also his thoughts. Through this, the narration takes on all the conclusions the reader’s mind would come to if they were unable to communicate. The reader in a sense becomes the writer. Through Bauby’s honesty, symbolism and imagination he was not only able to write a memoir but a beautiful expression of how to carry around the weight of life but also what makes life worth living.
Jean-Dominique Bauby will be remembered for his memoir and the amazing experience that brought it about but he wasn’t always like that. As the fashion editor of Elle magazine Bauby lived the expected luxurious lifestyle full of travel, nice cars and beautiful women. He recalls a test drive of a new car, “Crossing the Bois de Boulogne, the BMW glides like a flying carpet, a private world of luxury and comfort” (Bauby 121). He was also a son to a father he loved very much. Bauby recalls a scene with his father, “The last time I saw my father, I shaved him…I wrap a big towel around his shriveled neck, daub thick lather over his face, and do my best not to irritate his skin” (Bauby 43). Through the small glimpses of his life prior to his stroke we see a man that lived both a life of luxury but was also sensitive enough to care for his elderly father. Bauby’s character did not change after suffering the stroke. He describes his relationship with the hospital staff, “I hated some of them, those who wrenched my arm while putting me in my wheelchair, or left me all night long with the TV on. For a few minutes or a few hours I would cheerfully have killed them. Later still, as time cooled my fiercest rages, I got to know them better. They carried out as best they could their delicate mission: to ease our burden a little when our crosses bruised our shoulders too painfully” (Bauby 110). Thomas Mallon writes, “The author cultivates strong feelings, especially anger, to keep his spirit from atrophying along with his limbs. But despite occasional sarcastic eruptions, the book’s tone is dominated by a sweet, even humorous, lyricism” (Blink). Throughout the book Bauby balances beautifully between extreme sarcasm and sensitivity, which allows the reader to both laugh with Bauby and his situation and also cry with how lonely and isolated he must have felt. Bauby’s horrible circumstances didn’t seem to change him. He was a high flying magazine executive and a sweet son prior to the accident and remained so through his use of humor and symbolism in his writing.
After waking from his coma, finding himself paralyzed and mute, Bauby could have easily given up. Who would have blamed him? It would almost be expected. He didn’t though, he chose to see beauty and use his imagination to remember life the way he wanted to and for this his memoir stays with us. Robert McCrum writes, “Most stroke victims, let alone Locked-In syndrome victims, are so overwhelmed by the four horsemen of apocalyptic illness depression, disability, fatigue and rage that even to compose a postcard involves a supreme effort of will” (Observer Review). Why did he do this? It was hard and an amazing act of determination and no one was holding a gun to his head. Bauby kept on living and wrote his memoir because he had a story to tell. A story that only he could tell. He writes, “My diving bell becomes less oppressive, and my mind takes flight like a butterfly. There is so much to do. You can wander off in space or in time, set out for Tierra del Fuego or for King Midas’s court” (Bauby 5). Bauby’s view of life is the exact opposite of what one would think. Rather than basking in self pity, Bauby doesn’t see enough time in the day for all the adventures in his mind.
Everyone on earth is locked in to something. Sex, alcohol, work, video games, name it and someone loves it. By these things people get distracted and trapped and avoid what mankind was created for, to tell a story. Everyone is like Jean-Dominique Bauby and has a choice to make. People can look at their seasons of life and see the limits, the constraints and the difficulties that they face or they can see more. Bauby chose to see more and writes, “My nostrils quiver with please as they inhale a robust odor-intoxicating to me but one that most mortals cannot abide. “Ooh!” says a disgusted voice behind me. “What a stench!” But I never tire of the smell of french fries” (Bauby 88). The smell of french fries means so much more to Bauby than to the average upright person because the smell is the closest thing he can come to tasting them. The Diving Bell and the Butterfly serves as a beautiful reminder for the reader to open their eyes and see the things they can so often ignore or get distracted from.
An unfortunate reality is that some people recognize the choice they face and choose to go they opposite direction. Some people choose dying over living. Eerily coincidental to Bauby is the story of a Vincent Humbert. A 22 year old French paraplegic who was left paralyzed, mute and blind (Son’s Wish). Humbert wrote a book entitled I Ask the Right to Die, in which he campaigned for the legalization of euthanasia in France. Humbert’s book, dictated in the exact same hospital as Bauby’s paints a stark contrast to the message of Bauby’s memoir. Charles Smith writes, “Mr. Humbert recounts with heartbreaking bitterness how his life as a healthy, careful young fireman ended when his car met an oncoming truck on a narrow country road. After enduring months of ebbing hope that he would recover any of his lost faculties he decided he wanted to die and with his mother began the campaign” (Son’s Wish). In no way should a choice like this be made by someone outside of the inner circle of the patient if not the patients themselves, but what if Bauby had given up, what if he chose to end his life before it came to an end naturally? His memoir would never have been written, millions of people would not have been touched by his story and people would not be inspired by life. Deathbeds are coming for everyone. On those deathbeds people look back on their lives and either have great joy or great remorse. Bauby, although his book is filled with so much hope, was not immune to remorse. He recounts a lost bet at a horse race track:
The memory of that event has only just come back to me, now doubly painful: regret for a vanished past and, above all, remorse for lost opportunities. Mithra-Grandchamp is the women we were unable to love, the chances we failed to seize, the moments of happiness we allowed to drift away. Today it seems to me that my whole life was nothing but a string of those small near misses: a race whose result we know beforehand but in which we fail to bet on the winner” (Bauby 94).
Bauby had a great life, one full of money, fame and everything that life has to offer and yet he still had remorse.
It can be said that everything that happens, happens for a reason. Bauby had a stroke for a reason. He was meant to inspire people to live their lives, to open their eyes and to see all that fills life around them and to encourage people to take advantage of the freedom they have in this life. Everyone wakes up in the morning for a reason. A choice has to be made: either drown with the diving bell of life or take flight with the butterfly. Distractions and stress can creep up from around the corner at the drop of a hat. We should be a people that persevere and endure and continually look at the big picture and how today fits into it. Theologian John Piper expounds on the little moments in life where we get a new perspective on life:
At these moments, when the trifling fog of life clears and I see what I am really on earth to do, I groan over the petty pursuits that waste so many lives – and so much of mine. Just think of the magnitude of sports – a whole section of the daily newspaper. But there is no section on God. Think of the endless resources for making your home and garden more comfortable and impressive. Think of how many tens of thousands of dollars you can spend to buy more car than you need. Think of the time and energy and conversation that go into entertainment and leisure and what we call “fun stuff.” And add to that now the computer that artificially recreates the very games that are already so distant from reality; it is like a multi-layered dreamworld of insignificance expanding into nothingness” (Piper 125).
If life was meant to be wasted, it wouldn’t have happened. Please don’t waste yours.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
Obligitory Truth
Here's another essay. I was given the task of determining whether or not a memoirist is entitled to take creative license with their memoir. Hope you enjoy.
This argument, like every argument has two sides. The first side is justice, truth, and integrity -- a journalistic approach. The second side is art, ideas, and meaning -- a poetic approach. Authors have a choice to make about how they write their memoirs. They must decide which will take precedence, the story or the meaning of the story. Helen Epstein claims, “Because it is so strongly rooted in the specifics of time and place, memoir depends as much on accurate rendition of facts as on the writer’s intellectual and emotional honesty” (“As Best”). The author is forced by the genre, a genre they chose to write, a genre with borders and definition, to not only tell the story but make an emotional connection with the reader. The author must take a journalistic approach to the story to come up with the poetic meaning for the reader. If the foundation of the poetic meaning is false, the story fails and the reader is left betrayed.
Betrayal is avoided when truth is told. Vivian Gornick, the author of The Situation and the Story, disagrees when she writes, “What happened to the writer is not what matters; what matters is the large sense that the writer is able to make of what happened” (91). Unfortunately, readers don’t come to a memoir knowing nor expecting that. Gornick has first hand experience with this issue when in 2003 she admitted to composing characters, events and dialogue for her memoir Fierce Attachments. She defends her actions in an interview by saying, “This is a genre that requires a more educated readership. A memoir is a composition” (qtd. in Beer). Must a reader be educated to determine fact versus fiction? The problem is not with the reader’s education level or IQ but rather the reader’s expectations. If the reader expected fictional writing from the memoirists there wouldn’t be any discussion, but that is not why readers flock to memoirs, they come for truth. Readers read memoir because they long for someone’s real life experiences, and if those real life experiences are fiction, the rug has been torn out from under them.
The question is raised, why would an author want to do this? Why would an author purposely invent scenes, or characters in a memoir? Scott Eyman proposes, “Nobody wants to read the fourth book about the father who’s a drunk and the mother who can’t get off the couch, so the ante has to be upped. Before you know it, mom and dad are not just alcoholics, they’re molesting the children, then worshipping Satan” (“It’s My Story”). There certainly is nothing new under the sun in our day. Authors are retelling the same stories and are tempted for the sake of narrative and excitement to embellish a little here and fabricate a little there. It may make for a great read but its not a memoir, its not truth. Gornick writes, “The ability to make us believe that we know who is speaking is the trustworthy narrator achieved” (17). She is dead on. We can only believe the memoirist by what they have written in their book. The minute it is discovered that facts have been embellished and events contorted the memoirist’s hopes of being believable are dashed. Gornick violates her own idea when she composes and invents aspects of her memoir.
Another author that has garnered much ridicule for falsifying events in his memoir is James Frey, who wrote A Million Little Pieces, a story about his recovery from a life of crime, drugs and alcohol. Where Gornick composed characters and dialogue, Frey completely lied. When being interviewed on the Larry King Live show, Frey defended himself, “The book is 432 pages long. The total page count of disputed events is 18, which is less than five percent of the total book” (“James Frey”). His defense has holes to say the least. If its so little of the book, why embellish any of it? Such a miniscule portion of the book can’t change too much of the narrative, so why be dishonest to the readers that are assuming that all 432 pages are fact, and not 414. Frey continues, “It’s an individual’s perception of what happened in their own life. This is my recollection of my life” (“James Frey”). The problem is that the life presented in the book is not his life; it’s the life he wanted readers to be captivated by but not his. Tom Beer concludes, “Why would someone write a novel and then extend the fiction even further by creating a fictional author for it and hiring an actor to play the role in public?” he continues, “This much is certain: For confused readers, the boundary between storytelling and sheer make-believe has never seemed more indistinct” (“No Place”).
Embellishing facts for a tighter narrative is lazy writing. The memoirist is trying to engage the reader by making something sound better than it really was. A good memoirist is bound by truth and must come up with a way to creatively express it in a way that is both truthful and engaging, this is no easy task. Larry King questioned Frey about changing the location of a cut on his face, Frey responds, “It’s a lot easier than saying over and over again that I cut the area between my lower lip and my chin. You know, I believe that the essential truth of the event remains, there’s a large cut on my face” (“James Frey”). The essential truth is just that, the truth and not a version of what someone thinks of the truth. Does changing the location of a cut on his face really make the narrative tighter? Frey just couldn’t come up with a creative way to say he cut his lip.
Any time a memoirist falsifies events in their memoir, trust is violated. The reader has come to the book expecting an honest portrayal of the written events that have change the author into who they are. Vivian Gornick, and James Frey in different ways violated their readers’ trust and ultimately weren’t honest with themselves. Frey reflects, “I thought of myself as being tougher than I was and badder than I was-and it helped me cope. When I was writing the book…instead of being as introspective as I should have been, I clung to that image” (“James Frey Controversy”). Expecting integrity and honesty from people has become taboo these days. People lie, cheat and steal to succeed and when they’re caught it is explained away and blame shifted. Truth is not subjective, there is no grey area. James Frey and Vivian Gornick were more concerned with the story than the truth and in the end their readers suffered because of their expectations for the truth.
Obligatory Truth
When someone purchases, rents, or steals a book they are looking for something, something they can’t find in their own life. If they purchase a fantasy book, they want to escape and be taken to a different time and place. If they purchase a memoir they are longing to look into someone else’s life. They want to see the kind of experiences they’ve had and how those experiences have effected or even changed the author. Certain assumptions are made by the reader when they come to a book, whether it be fact or fiction. Readers of fantasy know they are not reading reality and therefore give the author license to create otherworldly and even unrealistic stories. Readers of memoir come to the book expecting to be drawn into a person’s life experiences and that those same experiences actually happened. It is memoirists’ duty and obligation to honor the reader’s expectations by telling the truth and refraining from composing or lying about aspects of their writing.This argument, like every argument has two sides. The first side is justice, truth, and integrity -- a journalistic approach. The second side is art, ideas, and meaning -- a poetic approach. Authors have a choice to make about how they write their memoirs. They must decide which will take precedence, the story or the meaning of the story. Helen Epstein claims, “Because it is so strongly rooted in the specifics of time and place, memoir depends as much on accurate rendition of facts as on the writer’s intellectual and emotional honesty” (“As Best”). The author is forced by the genre, a genre they chose to write, a genre with borders and definition, to not only tell the story but make an emotional connection with the reader. The author must take a journalistic approach to the story to come up with the poetic meaning for the reader. If the foundation of the poetic meaning is false, the story fails and the reader is left betrayed.
Betrayal is avoided when truth is told. Vivian Gornick, the author of The Situation and the Story, disagrees when she writes, “What happened to the writer is not what matters; what matters is the large sense that the writer is able to make of what happened” (91). Unfortunately, readers don’t come to a memoir knowing nor expecting that. Gornick has first hand experience with this issue when in 2003 she admitted to composing characters, events and dialogue for her memoir Fierce Attachments. She defends her actions in an interview by saying, “This is a genre that requires a more educated readership. A memoir is a composition” (qtd. in Beer). Must a reader be educated to determine fact versus fiction? The problem is not with the reader’s education level or IQ but rather the reader’s expectations. If the reader expected fictional writing from the memoirists there wouldn’t be any discussion, but that is not why readers flock to memoirs, they come for truth. Readers read memoir because they long for someone’s real life experiences, and if those real life experiences are fiction, the rug has been torn out from under them.
The question is raised, why would an author want to do this? Why would an author purposely invent scenes, or characters in a memoir? Scott Eyman proposes, “Nobody wants to read the fourth book about the father who’s a drunk and the mother who can’t get off the couch, so the ante has to be upped. Before you know it, mom and dad are not just alcoholics, they’re molesting the children, then worshipping Satan” (“It’s My Story”). There certainly is nothing new under the sun in our day. Authors are retelling the same stories and are tempted for the sake of narrative and excitement to embellish a little here and fabricate a little there. It may make for a great read but its not a memoir, its not truth. Gornick writes, “The ability to make us believe that we know who is speaking is the trustworthy narrator achieved” (17). She is dead on. We can only believe the memoirist by what they have written in their book. The minute it is discovered that facts have been embellished and events contorted the memoirist’s hopes of being believable are dashed. Gornick violates her own idea when she composes and invents aspects of her memoir.
Another author that has garnered much ridicule for falsifying events in his memoir is James Frey, who wrote A Million Little Pieces, a story about his recovery from a life of crime, drugs and alcohol. Where Gornick composed characters and dialogue, Frey completely lied. When being interviewed on the Larry King Live show, Frey defended himself, “The book is 432 pages long. The total page count of disputed events is 18, which is less than five percent of the total book” (“James Frey”). His defense has holes to say the least. If its so little of the book, why embellish any of it? Such a miniscule portion of the book can’t change too much of the narrative, so why be dishonest to the readers that are assuming that all 432 pages are fact, and not 414. Frey continues, “It’s an individual’s perception of what happened in their own life. This is my recollection of my life” (“James Frey”). The problem is that the life presented in the book is not his life; it’s the life he wanted readers to be captivated by but not his. Tom Beer concludes, “Why would someone write a novel and then extend the fiction even further by creating a fictional author for it and hiring an actor to play the role in public?” he continues, “This much is certain: For confused readers, the boundary between storytelling and sheer make-believe has never seemed more indistinct” (“No Place”).
Embellishing facts for a tighter narrative is lazy writing. The memoirist is trying to engage the reader by making something sound better than it really was. A good memoirist is bound by truth and must come up with a way to creatively express it in a way that is both truthful and engaging, this is no easy task. Larry King questioned Frey about changing the location of a cut on his face, Frey responds, “It’s a lot easier than saying over and over again that I cut the area between my lower lip and my chin. You know, I believe that the essential truth of the event remains, there’s a large cut on my face” (“James Frey”). The essential truth is just that, the truth and not a version of what someone thinks of the truth. Does changing the location of a cut on his face really make the narrative tighter? Frey just couldn’t come up with a creative way to say he cut his lip.
Any time a memoirist falsifies events in their memoir, trust is violated. The reader has come to the book expecting an honest portrayal of the written events that have change the author into who they are. Vivian Gornick, and James Frey in different ways violated their readers’ trust and ultimately weren’t honest with themselves. Frey reflects, “I thought of myself as being tougher than I was and badder than I was-and it helped me cope. When I was writing the book…instead of being as introspective as I should have been, I clung to that image” (“James Frey Controversy”). Expecting integrity and honesty from people has become taboo these days. People lie, cheat and steal to succeed and when they’re caught it is explained away and blame shifted. Truth is not subjective, there is no grey area. James Frey and Vivian Gornick were more concerned with the story than the truth and in the end their readers suffered because of their expectations for the truth.
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