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Life Unscripted

Category Archives: Nonfiction

Book review: “Life’s Too Short to Go So F*cking Slow”, by Susan Lacke

16 Monday Aug 2021

Posted by blindbeader in Book reviews, Nonfiction, Ultimate Blog Challenge

≈ 4 Comments

I know… it’s been a VERY long time since I’ve done a book review (more than three years, but who’s counting?) And I’m taking a step away from books with disability representation to write a review on a book about running… and cycling and swimming. And lest anyone think this is a book for athletes… you don’t need to be any kind of athlete to enjoy this book that is more about friendship than it is about sport.

About the book

They were unlikely friends. She was a young, overweight college professor with a pack-a-day habit and a bad attitude. He was her boss, and an accomplished Ironman triathlete. She was a whiner, he was a hardass. He had his shit together, she most assuredly did not. Yet Susan and Carlos shared a deep and abiding friendship that traversed life, sport, illness, death, and everything in between.
Amusing and poignant, Life’s Too Short To Go So F*cking Slow is about running and triathlon, growth and heartbreak, and an epic friendship that went the distance.

It’s ALMOST too Short

I nearly swallowed this audio book whole. Clocking in at just over three and a half hours, I read it for an hour and a half when I was too keyed up to sleep, half an hour on my way to work, and the last hour and a half at the end of my day. Even if you’re not a reader… it’s short! Read it!

All the Feels

I saw points of my own journey in this book (right down to having a loyal friend who, without fail, made sure I get out for Sunday morning workouts and post-workout coffee). The reminders of “EAT!” and “Don’t be a dumbass!” are phrases I’ve heard – in spirit, if not in words – from my friend and training partner (some of which I, like Susan, soundly ignore). There is much to make a reader laugh, and much to make them cry. This short little book is for anyone who’s ever done a race (any kind of race), anyone who’s had a loyal friend, or anyone who’s ever been challenged to do a thing that scares them.

The Bottom Line

I can’t say much about this book. It’s about racing, but not about racing. It’s about endurance sports, but more about an enduring friendship. It poignantly speaks of one 10-year friendship – the one that defies logic, but is the bedrock of a person’s life. It’s about showing up whenever and wherever you can, however you can. Towards the end of the book, Susan Lacke rights bluntly, “Pain is temporary. Anger is temporary. Sh*t shows are temporary.” I’ll take that nugget with me on my next long run with my good friend. And maybe, just maybe, I won’t be a dumbass.

5/5 stars.

Book review: “Carry On” by Lisa Fenn

31 Saturday Mar 2018

Posted by blindbeader in Book reviews, Nonfiction

≈ 2 Comments

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I first heard of this book during the lead-up to the 2016 Paralympic Games in Rio. Fellow blogger Beth Finke caught an interview with the author on NPR and used it as a launching point to discuss the wonder and beauty of cross-disability assistance. I know I’m late, but I decided to read this book during the leadup to the 2018 Paralympics. I was hooked!

Publisher’s Summary

In the spirit of The Blind Side and Friday Night Lights comes a tender and profoundly moving memoir about an ESPN producer’s unexpected relationship with two disabled wrestlers from inner city Cleveland and how these bonds – blossoming, ultimately, into a most unorthodox family – would transform their lives.

When award-winning ESPN producer Lisa Fenn returned to her hometown for a story about two wrestlers at one of Cleveland’s toughest public high schools, she had no idea that the trip would change her life. Both young men were disadvantaged students with significant physical disabilities. Dartanyon Crockett was legally blind as a result of Leber’s disease; Leroy Sutton lost both his legs at 11, when he was run over by a train. Brought together by wrestling, they had developed a brother-like bond as they worked to overcome their disabilities.

After forming a profound connection with Dartanyon and Leroy, Fenn realized she couldn’t just walk away when filming ended; these boys had had to overcome the odds too many times. Instead Fenn dedicated herself to ensuring their success long after the reporting was finished and the story aired – and an unlikely family of three was formed.

The years ahead would be fraught with complex challenges, but Fenn stayed with the boys every step of the way – teaching them essential life skills, helping them heal old wounds and traumatic pasts, and providing the first steady and consistent support system they’d ever had.

This powerful memoir is one of love, hope, faith, and strength – a story about an unusual family and the courage to carry on, even in the most extraordinary circumstances.

Lisa’s Story

This story is deeply personal. While it is interwoven with strong and sharp threads of Leroy’s and Dartanyon’s stories – and those of other key figures – this is Lisa’s story. From early childhood memories to blustering and fumbling her way to a dream job to high school wrestling matches and beyond, We get to know Lisa as a warm-hearted woman who yearns for a family. And she definitely gets her wish!

We’re introduced to athletes, to coaches, to parents and siblings. We laugh, we cry, and we hope and despair. But, make no mistake, this is Lisa’s story.

Sports – The Great Equalizer?

I’m not huge into wrestling, but Lisa’s writing puts the reader in school gyms, locker rooms, and world-class sports venues. You can definitely feel her respect for athletes in their own right, though there’s a strong undertone (sometimes voiced by coaches and observers and sometimes by Lisa herself) that athletes with disabilities are not talented in their own right… they’re talented “for a legless kid” (as someone referred to Leroy). The reactions to both young men – men of colour, living in poverty, and with disabilities – are almost exclusively related to their disabilities (as many of their peers are both people of colour and living in poverty); some are astounded that they can wrestle at all and use them as “inspirations”, others don’t want to challenge them out of fear or ignorance, and still others give them the respect of laying it all on the mat. And yet, it’s clear that wrestling – and Lisa and ESPN’s exposure – gave both Leroy and Dartanyon opportunities that they otherwise wouldn’t have had.

Disability as Inspiration or Tragedy

As much as I enjoyed this compelling read overall, I had a hard time escaping the prevailing theme that disability was something to be pitied or inspirationalized. In Lisa’s career as a sports editor, she interviewed athletes from all walks of life, including a hockey player who – years before the interview – became injured and paralyzed just seconds after stepping onto the ice during his first major game (you could almost hear the sad cellos playing in the background). Leroy and Dartanyon’s wrestling coach contacted the local newspaper to write a story about his two disabled wrestlers (clearly without consulting them); Lisa was unable to explain why she thought it was a story that needed national attention, but to her it was, so she dropped everything to fly back to her home city and interview these kids. When the resulting ESPN story aired, the resulting letters and responses left this reader with the distinct feeling that Leroy and Dartanyon were meant to be viewed as recipients of generosity and catalysts for people to look outside themselves, rather than talented athletes in their own rights.

And Yet…

No one can ignore the confluence of race, poverty, and disability, and how Leroy and Dartanyon’s families – neither of which were what many would consider “stable” – shaped their high school and college/university experiences. Dartanyon, in particular, frequently refused to be “pitied” as a blind guy, even though he could’ve made use of adapted services, because he didn’t want anyone to treat him differently. Leroy didn’t have the luxury of being able to blend in, but it is clear that his school and training environments are not well-equipped for many students (lack of uniforms and sports equipment) and definitely not set up with wheelchair-accessible buses or classrooms. It’s hard to look away from the reality that many cards are stacked against these young men’s lives and journeys. Lisa is tireless in her desire to provide for Leroy and Dartanyon, even as her adopted and biological family with her husband keeps growing. It’s heart-warming and frustrating and an important conversation – nature and nurture and empathy and personal responsibility. It made this reader uncomfortable, and maybe that’s a good thing.

Conclusion

This book is part memoir, part sports journey, part family history. There are some deeply uncomfortable mentions of ableism, racism, and inspiration porn (based on the depiction of the ESPN piece, “Carry On”, this reader has no desire to see it). And yet, this autobiography is compulsively readable, uplifting in places, and thought-provoking. It’s definitely worth the read.

3.5/5 stars.

Book Review: Sensing the Rhythm

31 Wednesday Jan 2018

Posted by blindbeader in Book reviews, Nonfiction

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

deaf, disability, hearing loss, music

I first heard the name of Mandy Harvey when I read and reviewed Erik Weihenmayer’s latest autobiography, No Barriers. I first heard her sing a couple of months later in a heart-stopping video performance on America’s Got Talent. When I discovered not long afterward that she had written an autobiography of her own, I scooped it up quickly. As a disabled person myself, and an (albeit out-of-practice) musician, I was interested to hear the story behind the voice and the performance that made me stop and take immediate notice.

Sensing the Rhythm

Finding My Voice in a World Without Sound

By: Mandy Harvey and Mark Attberry

 

The inspiring true story of Mandy Harvey—a young woman who became deaf at age nineteen while pursuing a degree in music—and how she overcame adversity
and found the courage to live out her dreams.

When Mandy Harvey began her freshman year at Colorado State University, she could see her future coming together right before her eyes. A gifted musician
with perfect pitch, she planned to get a music degree and pursue a career doing what she loved. But less than two months into her first semester, she noticed
she was having trouble hearing her professors. In a matter of months, Mandy was profoundly deaf.

With her dreams so completely crushed, Mandy dropped out of college and suffered a year of severe depression. But one day, things changed. Mandy’s father
asked her to join him in their once favorite pastime—recording music together—and the result was stunningly beautiful. Mandy soon learned to sense the
vibrations of the music through her bare feet on a stage floor and to watch visual cues from her live accompaniment. The result was that she now sings
on key, on beat, and in time, performing jazz, ballads, and sultry blues around the country.

Full of inspiring wisdom and honest advice, Sensing the Rhythm is a deeply moving story about Mandy’s journey through profound loss, how she found hope
and meaning in the face of adversity, and how she discovered a new sense of passion and joy.

 

Initial Impressions

 

I chose to listen to this book in audio format, narrated by Mandy herself. Mandy’s narration lends additional warmth to her breezy, accessible style of writing. I was immediately transported to an unforgetable performance where, without words, all musicians knew exactly where to be and what to do.

We are taken on Mandy’s journey with her – from the rapid decrease in her hearing to her time of depression to her discovery that she could still sense the rhythm of music. I laughed and cried with Mandy, and some portions of her journey really made me think. Even though the publisher’s summary talks a lot about inspiration and overcoming adversity, I found this short book more approachable and relatable than I expected to.

At the end of each chapter, there’s a section called “Making Sense of Your Rhythm”, which I personally found repetative and the only real drawback to the book. These sections summarize – and sometimes re-state word-for-word – portions of the chapter that has just been read. There are some questions to ponder, but overall I didn’t find those portions useful (though perhaps a print or eBook would include space to write down reflections and answer additional questions).

 

Disability Identity

 

Mandy chooses to communicate using sign language, something she thought was important to use during her performance linked above. Her deafness is as much as part of herself as her musicianship, though she’s received threats from some in the deaf community. Her thoughts on using identity-first language – referring to someone as a “woman” or a “sister” or a “colleague” and then only including the disability identifier if it’s relevant to the discussion – almost completely changes the person/identity-first language debate on its head. Months later, I am will pondering the implications of including disability descriptors of people in my life in this way.

And yet I found myself feeling a complicated sense of sorrow and frustration when Mandy relates her experiences in early college as her hearing loss was progressing. She asked for an accommodation to learn an assignment and was denied that request. When students stood up for her, she admitted feeling like a burden, feeling uncomfortable, feeling like her hearing loss made her stand out. I found myself relating to and frustrated by her feelings of her disability experience and the reactions of those around her.

 

More than Disability

 

Yes, Mandy is deaf, and yes, she’s a musician. But she has some insights about life that are not exclusively disability-related. In particular, I found her formula for success to be an incredibly insightful look at talent and determination. Her hard-won insights on supporting a loved one through a life-changing event – based on what she found helpful and what she didn’t – may not be revolutionary, but they are told in a gentle and powerful way.

Mandy neither makes herself out to be a saint or a martyr, but as a woman who has made mistakes and chosen to learn from them. There are some portions of her book that some might find preachy (Mandy is a born-again Christian), but they are generally interwoven with her own lived experiences, adding to their tapestry rather than jutting out at odd angles.

 

Conclusion

 

I usually prefer longer books and getting to know characters and real people. But Sensing the Rhythm is a short tome that I’m glad I picked up. I personally would have liked to hear more about Mandy’s band, how she works with them, more about recording music as well as performing. And the “Sensing your Rhythm” portions don’t detract from the book, but they don’t add to it either.

It’s not a literary masterpiece, but it can be as easy or as profound as you, the reader, make it out to be.

Much like all of us.

 

4/5 stars.

Book Review: No barriers

31 Thursday Aug 2017

Posted by blindbeader in Book reviews, Nonfiction

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

adventure, blindness, growing, learning lessons, mountains

Several months ago I reviewed Erik Weihenmayer’s first book, “Touch the Top of the World.” When I learned his second book (and continuation of his autobiography), “No Barriers“, was coming out earlier this year, I snapped it up quickly, and read it just as fast.

No Barriers: A Blind Man’s Journey to Kayak the Grand Canyon
By: Erik Weihenmayer

Erik Weihenmayer is the first and only blind person to summit Mount Everest, the highest point on Earth. Descending carefully, he and his team picked their way across deep crevasses and through the deadly Khumbu Icefall; when the mountain was finally behind him, Erik knew he was going to live. His expedition leader slapped him on the back and said something that would affect the course of Erik’s life: “Don’t make Everest the greatest thing you ever do.”
No Barriers is Erik’s response to that challenge. It is the moving story of his journey since descending Mount Everest – from leading expeditions around the world with blind Tibetan teenagers to helping injured soldiers climb their way home from war, from adopting a son from Nepal to facing the most terrifying reach of his life: to solo kayak the thunderous whitewater of the Grand Canyon.
Along the course of Erik’s journey, he meets other trailblazers – adventurers, scientists, artists, and activists – who, despite trauma, hardship, and loss, have broken through barriers of their own. These pioneers show Erik surprising ways forward that surpass logic and defy traditional thinking.
Like the rapids of the Grand Canyon, created by inexorable forces far beneath the surface, No Barriers is a dive into the heart and mind at the core of the turbulent human experience. It is an exploration of the light that burns in all of us, the obstacles that threaten to extinguish that light, and the treacherous ascent toward growth and rebirth.

Continuing the Journey, with New Friends along the Trail

This book re-introduces us to key people in Erik’s life – his father, his siblings, his wife and daughter. We get to know and see some of their dynamics play out, discover their demons some kept at bay (and later taking over), grow and change with everyone. One thing that the author has done well – in both books – is balance interpersonal dynamics without verging far into sappy emotional supposition or stale dialogue re-creation.
In addition to getting re-acquainted with Erik’s family, we meet new key people in his life. We meet his son, who is sweet and precocious and is too young to express his grief at being taken far away from the only life, country and culture he’s ever known. The challenges of culture shock when adopting a child from a foreign country (and the bureaucracy that goes with it can almost be felt by the reader; I can only imagine what it felt like going through it at the time. And so many people were instrumental in building this relationship – on both sides of the world.
We also meet other disabled people – from sheltered blind children who learn they were capable of doing more than they thought possible, to veterans who struggled through their own mental and physical barriers to climb mountains, to doctors and adventurers and entrepreneurs and bureaucrats and kayaking guides… Erik’s books are always about people; I never once came away with the idea that Erik was this big hot shot who’s done all these cool things, but he had others with him every step of the way.

A Few Too Many Rabbit Trails

Unlike “Touch the Top of the World”, “No barriers” is a long book with many components to it. We travel up a Tibetan mountain with blind teenagers, learn about the BrainPort (a nifty piece of technology that produces visual information on the wearer’s tongue, laugh and cry at the journey of creating a new family, experience the merger between two nonprofits and the pitfalls along the way… it’s all useful and important, but at times I just wanted to get back to Erik’s journeys as an adventurer – climbing mountains, kayaking rivers – or reading more about his family. “Touch the Top” was a much tighter and more cohesive read, but I do understand why all these components were included, to describe a journey of peaks and valleys, of falling down and getting back up again.

Seeing the Forest for the Trees

One of the most profound experiences in the book is not when Erik kayaks the Grand Canyon (though that experience is well-described and riveting), but when he trains and takes a small group of blind Tibetan teenagers and their guides to Tibet’s tallest mountain. Erik is put in touch with Sabriye Tenberken, a blind German social worker who founded Braille Without Borders, a school and training center for the blind of Tibet. Eventually they decide that, both as an educational experience for the teenagers and as a way to break down barriers placed on them by Tibetan society, a mountain climbing trip is in order. Erik is a goal setter – he has a plan, and he is going to achieve it, making adjustments along the route but with the understanding that achieving the goal (in this case, climbing the mountain) is the most desirable end result. But when threatening weather adds further danger to this trek, Erik and Sabriye have vastly different opinions on whether or not to proceed.

Sabriye, affter thoughtful consideration, tells Erik that she has taken what he’s told her to heart, that she needs to respect the mountains and their beauty. She tells him bluntly but kindly that she’s noticed the sound of the wind in the trees, the feel of the glaciers, the stillness of the air. She has done what he’s asked, to appreciate the mountains for all that they offer, but it’s his turn to do what she’s asked and respect their people enough to acknowledge that they’ve already done more than they could’ve ever imagined, and now it’s time to keep them safe.

I read this book months ago, and Sabriye’s idea (though paraphrased here) has never left me. Goals are important, but sometimes we focus so much on the end result that we miss the little things along the way.

Conclusion

This book is well worth your time – at a sprawling 480 print pages and more than 19 recorded hours, it will take a lot of it. It’s profound and moving in ways I didn’t expect. That being said, some passages could have been shortened for a more cohesive read.

4/5 stars.

Book Review: Eyes Wide Open

31 Wednesday May 2017

Posted by blindbeader in Book reviews, Nonfiction

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Over the past few months, I seem to have found myself reading books on self-improvement (working on sales skills, overcoming rejection). And biographies and autobiographies of people with disabilities (because we are all on a similar journey with many paths). A few months ago, I read a terrific article about taking a step back and trying not to read someone else’s intentions and the importance of communicating effectively. When I discovered the author of the article wrote a book, I snapped it up quickly, hoping to be able to learn a few things. I did, but not in the way I expected.

 

Eyes Wide Open

By: Isaac Lidsky

In this New York Times bestseller, Isaac Lidsky draws on his experience of achieving immense success, joy, and fulfillment while losing his sight to a blinding disease to show us that it isn’t external circumstances, but how we perceive and respond to them, that governs our reality.
Fear has a tendency to give us tunnel vision–we fill the unknown with our worst imaginings and cling to what’s familiar. But when confronted with new challenges, we need to think more broadly and adapt. When Isaac Lidsky learned that he was beginning to go blind at age thirteen, eventually losing his sight entirely by the time he was twenty-five, he initially thought that blindness would mean an end to his early success and his hopes for the future. Paradoxically, losing his sight gave him the vision to take responsibility for his reality and thrive. Lidsky graduated from Harvard College at age nineteen, served as a Supreme Court law clerk, fathered four children, and turned a failing construction subcontractor into a highly profitable business.
Whether we’re blind or not, our vision is limited by our past experiences, biases, and emotions. Lidsky shows us how we can overcome paralyzing fears, avoid falling prey to our own assumptions and faulty leaps of logic, silence our inner critic, harness our strength, and live with open hearts and minds. In sharing his hard-won insights, Lidsky shows us how we too can confront life’s trials with initiative, humor, and grace.

 

Autobiography

You learn early on that Isaac Lidsky has lived an exceptional life for someone who hasn’t yet turned 40. he’s starred in a hit TV show, clerked for not one, but two, Supreme Court Justices, owns his own company, and is a father of four.
The autobiographical portion of this book is told in “fishing Trips”, lighthearted reads, non-sequential essays. You know his wife gives birth to triplets and health problems arise, but you learn this in the early stages of the book, and don’t learn the outcome until closer to the end. His taking over a struggling construction company is detailed first, then, the next “Fishing Trip” essay is about a threat to his employer (a Supreme Court Justice) three years earlier that included his taking a motorcade to a cigar bar. The autobiography is compulsively readable, but it’s hard to follow, because it’s not written in any linear fashion.

 

Journey Through Sight Loss

 

From teen heartthrob to law clerk to entrepreneur, Isaac Lidsky has worked hard to get where he’s at, but he had to first come to terms with his declining vision. He believes that he would not be the person he is today without having lost his vision. When addressing his own journey to sight loss acceptance, he uses terms such as “awfulizing” (considering and brooding on a worst-case scenario). He acknowledges that many people view losing their sight as terrifying – he was once one of them – but likens it to a child who fears a monster under the bed and has to be told again and again that there are no monsters. His way of expressing his own journey through sight loss – from denial to resignation to acceptance – is refreshing; he acknowledges that he has to remind himself that others are where he once was, and needs to take that step back and allow them to fear the “monster” of sight loss and learn the truth about the “monsters.”

 

Self-Help: Eyes Wide Open

 

The self-help aspects of the book were where most of my conflict lies. There’s not a lot new here, though some of the analogies put into great words things I’ve never been able to express. Everyone has had an experience where they knew they saw a neighbor, an acquaintance, or a coworker somewhere… only to call their name and discover it’s not them. Heck, even someone who knows me had a similar experience. Lidsky uses this universal experience to drive home the point that perception is not reality, and we would do well to remember that.

But what is most troubling is his assertion that life is what you make it, that people will misjudge you but it’s up to you to not allow their perceptions of you to colour your perception of yourself, or of them. This glosses over the very real problems of ableism, racism, sexism that exist in our world. And being grateful that we can read and write, and live on more than $10 a day, doesn’t address very real obstacles that are placed in our path. Lidsky compares life to a game of poker – of skill rather than luck. Yes, what you do and how you respond to challenges matters – and it matters a lot – but constantly receiveing horrible cards puts you in a situation where you’re supposed to bluff your way through life, or you’re so far in the hole that no amount of skill can get you ahead in the next 27 hands.

 

Conclusion

 

Isaac Lidsky has lived a remarkable life. He has worked hard to get where he is, and I would never presume to take that away from him. But in many ways he has been given remarkable gifts of a superior intillect, a supportive family, and a drive to succeed in his chosen career and academic fields. For those who simply want a “normal” life, his advice can lead one to feel that their ordinary dreams are not good enough. The “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” ideas can make those who’ve faced very real ableism, sexism or racism feel marginalized all over again because we “let” someone else get to us and relied on luck rather than skill to dictate the course of our education or career or life.

I’m struggling to rate this book fairly, because I think it tried to be too many things to too many people. As an essayist, I like the way Isaac Lidsky expresses himself. But as a hole, I struggled to read this book straight through. Even picking apart the well-written personal essays – by turns humorous and heartbreaking – I would’ve preferred a more sequential reading. And the self-help “eyes wide open” philosophy – even though it contained some portions that will make me think – doesn’t address some very real problems that do have very real consequences. Yes, we need to step back and ask questions and listen actively, but Lidsky’s glossing over one’s perception of him as a blind man (because, frankly, he has the economic luxury to do so) and encouraging others to do the same, rings quite hollow.

Even so, this book will make you think; it will challenge you. It challenged me in some important ways.

3/5 stars.

Book Review: Touch the Top of the World

28 Tuesday Feb 2017

Posted by blindbeader in Book reviews, Nonfiction

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

acceptance, blindness, mountain-climbing, teamwork

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I’ve always been a little put-off by the idea of superblinks – those blind people who do everything extremely well (have AWESOME jobs, perfect independent living skills, or are the first blind person to do something that would be a huge challenge for ANYONE), and think that all of us should be like them. Yet I have vivid memories of a news interview with Erik Weihenmayer, the first blind man to summit Mt. Everest, and thinking “WOW! That’s amazing!” – not in an amazing-for-a-blind-guy sort of way, but more like amazing-because-it’s-HARD. Years ago, I heard of Erik Weihenmayer’s first book, “Touch the Top of the World“, and when friends of mine described the author as a “superblink”, I put the idea of reading his book on a top shelf in my reading closet. After all, I’m not that interested in mountain climbing, and who wants to read a book about a perfect accomplished blind person? Not me!

But when I saw his second autobiographical book, “No Barriers” was being released early in February, which sounded like an interesting read, I figured I would go in from the beginning. Sure, I thought, I’m interested enough in mountains to make “Touch the Top of the World” worth my time, and maybe, just maybe, I could slog through how perfect this guy’s life was and how effortless he made everything seem…

Um… I was so very wrong.

 

About the Book

 

Erik Weihenmayer was born with retinoscheses, a degenerative eye disorder that would leave him blind by the age of thirteen. But Erik was determined to rise above this devastating disability and lead a fulfilling and exciting life.

In this poignant and inspiring memoir, he shares his struggle to push past the limits imposed on him by his visual impairment-and by a seeing world. He speaks movingly of the role his family played in his battle to break through the barriers of blindness: the mother who prayed for the miracle that would restore her son’s sight and the father who encouraged him to strive for that distant mountaintop. And he tells the story of his dream to climb the world’s Seven Summits, and how he is turning that dream into astonishing reality (something fewer than a hundred mountaineers have done).

From the snow-capped summit of McKinley to the towering peaks of Aconcagua and Kilimanjaro to the ultimate challenge, Mount Everest, this is a story about daring to dream in the face of impossible odds. It is about finding the courage to reach for that ultimate summit, and transforming your life into something truly miraculous.

 

Family Comes First

 

Erik has not always been totally blind. While he was visually impaired most of his early childhood, he still played sports with his brothers and friends at school. His family knew that his vision would change and eventually be non-existent, but Erik used the vision he had when he had it. When he discovered one day he couldn’t see things as clearly to ride his bike down the ramp that had been constructed, his father painted huge visible lines on it so he could still enjoy his bike tricks. Erik’s mother hoped for a cure for her son’s blindness, while his father (a military man) pushed him to do whatever he did to the best of his ability – even if it was done differently, even if it was scary, even if it included having others beside him and behind him cheering him on.

This sets up a backdrop of immense family support. When Erik lost his remaining vision and was forced to rely on a white cane, his anger boiled over. He would throw his canes into the river, purposefully break them, drop them down sewer grates. He refused to read braille and use other adaptive techniques. He was neither belittled or pitied, but was told to get back up and learn to deal. But he was not going to live his life of blindness alone. Sadly, his mother died very suddenly not long after Erik lost his sight completely. One of the main sources of encouragement and support was gone. But he still had his siblings and father to help him push through.

 

A Place of Acceptance

 

Something changed when Erik tried out for the wrestling team. He discovered that blindness was not a factor. He didn’t have to try to learn to do things differently because of his blindness, but he didn’t feel like he had to downplay it, either. He grappled and wrestled and got hurt and got back up again. And it made an incredible mark on his life; he later became a wrestling coach.

Somewhere along the way, Erik discovered that it was so much simpler to adapt to his blindness rather than fight it. He went on to college, tried to find a job (where, familiar to blind job-seekers the world over, he was told he couldn’t do job duties XYZ and shown the door), and continued with sports and hiking with his family and friends.

He landed a job teaching school in Arizona, where he met the two great loves of his life – his wife Ellie… and rock-climbing.

 

It’s Not Just about Erik

 

When you read news articles or hear interviews about Erik being the first blind person to summit Mt. Everest, the team beside and behind Erik – if they are mentioned at all – are downplayed. Not so in this book. The friends, family and guides who supported him with both practical and physical help when he began climbing rock faces – and, later, the tallest peaks in the world – are fully fleshed out. From one team member who was perpetually cracking practical jokes, to another who was constantly late or forgetting gear (most notably a headlamp, when Erik was the lead climber on a night-time descent), to a young man whose dream of summiting one mountain was cut short due to a serious health concern… Erik makes no apologies for being part of a team. Sometimes he felt like he slowed down the team, forcing them to accommodate him; and other times, his ability to navigate in the dark made him a strong asset. Those on the peaks and those on the ground were all part of this journey, and Erik is not shy about sharing this information.

 

Conclusion

 

We knew – upon publication of this book – that Erik had summitted Mt. Everest. This, however, was not detailed in this book. I didn’t realize until recently that he hadn’t hit the summit of the tallest mountain on each of the seven continents until 2008 (more than six years after the book’s publication). I can’t decide if this adds to this book’s charm – Erik Weihenmayer is a work in progress – or if I find the publisher’s summary misleading.

If you’re at all interested in books about mountaineering, this book is a unique look at the challenges and successes of a blind climber. Like many climbers, Erik has a deep respect for the mountains – for their unique weather, their surface, their ruggedness, their beauty. Blindness was sometimes a factor in climbing, sometimes not.

As a memoir of blindness, I found this book both riveting and complicated. Erik felt like both an asset and a liability on the peaks, but he was never afraid to pull his weight. Sometimes this meant learning to do things flawlessly – because his life, and that of his teammates – depended on it. He had to abandon more than one climb due to illness, injury, or poor weather. Sometimes he powered through intense pain to summit a mountain, and paid for it later. Sometimes he knew when it was time to let it go for now and try again.

“Touch the Top of the World” is more than a memoir about blindness, adaptation, or mountains. It’s about all three in a terrific combination. It’s about grit and determination, about learning your own limitations and sometimes redefining them. I laughed and cried at various points, both poignant and amusing. Erik Weihenmayer may have been described by my friend all those years ago as a “superblink”, but I’m not sure I agree. He’s a man who loves the mountains, who loves to set goals for himself, and realizes the important value of teamwork.

5/5 stars.

Book Review: The Untold Story of the Talking Book

31 Saturday Dec 2016

Posted by blindbeader in Book reviews, Nonfiction

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

access, audio books, autonomy, censorship, reading

I remember taking a road trip nearly 20 years ago and wondering what in the world I would do during the 9 hours I’d spend in transit each way. I visited my father not long before I left, and he handed me three plastic cases from the local public library, each of which contained two or three cassettes. This was my introduction to talking books. Sure, as a child, I had books with songs or sound effects, but so did the neighborhood kids. Braille books were always available, but they were big and bulky and cumbersome to transport – if I finished the volume(s) I brought with me, I could find myself without reading material at all, and bringing more than one or two volumes would take up just as much room as a small suitcase. At eleven or twelve years old, those three plastic cases with their two or three cassette tapes were my entree into the world of a more portable reading solution.
Over the past twenty years, the world of audio books has changed drastically. From those first books – abridged, in my opinion, to their detriment – to the unabridged audio books on tape or CD that became popular (if costly) at the turn of the century, to the repositories of digital downloads for rent or purchase… no one can deny that audio books are here to stay.
When I first discovered Matthew Rubery’s “The Untold Story of the Talking Book” I waited for months to read it. Of course, I listened to it in audio format; it just seemed most appropriate.

 

About the Book

 

Histories of the book often move straight from the codex to the digital screen. Left out of that familiar account is nearly 150 years of audio recordings. Recounting the fascinating history of audio-recorded literature, Matthew Rubery traces the path of innovation from Edison’s recitation of “Mary Had a Little Lamb” for his tinfoil phonograph in 1877 to the first novel-length talking books made for blinded World War I veterans to today’s billion-dollar audiobook industry.
The Untold Story of the Talking Book focuses on the social impact of audiobooks, not just the technological history, in telling a story of surprising and impassioned conflicts: from controversies over which books the Library of Congress selected to become talking books – yes to Kipling, no to Flaubert – to debates about what defines a reader. Delving into the vexed relationship between spoken and printed texts, Rubery argues that storytelling can be just as engaging with the ears as with the eyes and that audiobooks deserve to be taken seriously. They are not mere derivatives of printed books but their own form of entertainment.
We have come a long way from the era of sound recorded on wax cylinders, when people imagined one day hearing entire novels on mini phonographs tucked inside their hats. Rubery tells the untold story of this incredible evolution and, in doing so, breaks from convention by treating audiobooks as a distinctively modern art form that has profoundly influenced the way we read.

 

A Note about Audio

 

Many of my readers access reading material through audio book libraries, whether through their state or federal library for the blind, through their local public library, or through online resources featuring books on CD or digital downloads for rent or purchase. The narrator of Rubery’s book, Jim Dennison, reads the book straight through, with neither dramatic flare nor flat intonation. It was mildly disconcerting listening to such a narrator reading a passage about “How to Read a Talking Book.” But Dennison is a good narrator choice for this book, letting the text stand on its own… and stand, it does.

 

Blindness is Prominent

 

Unlike many authors that include a few token quotes from blind people, Rubery shies away from making them out to be incompetent or demanding or whiny. He describes blind people as having particular needs (inclusion, literacy) and vastly different opinions of what that would look like. Some were portrayed as grateful for any literature at all, while others are more particular about the types of books available. Some wanted to read about those who went through the journey of blindness, while others preferred escapism. This provides a look into blind people as individuals, with different personalities, preferences and expectations. He also describes the challenges of learning braille later in life, or transporting braille volumes for those who read braille, or the limited number of books made available. In addition, he provides compelling scientific evidence (written in an accessible style) that reading with the fingers or the ears uses the same brain activity as reading with the eyes, putting the visually impaired only at a disadvantage to their sighted friends or family due to the lack of access to reading material.

 

Not a Dry (Audio) Book

 

Rubery not only discusses the history of talking books – from their inception to the present – but does so logically and with nuance. From the early days where the hope for talking books was surpassed by the technology available at the time to the present day where almost everyone has some form of talking book somewhere (on their phone, in their car), he takes us on a wild ride. I found myself most interested in the inception of talking book libraries in the 1930s. How were books chosen? Was there censorship involved? Were the blind needing protection from unpleasant topics? Did narration matter? With a finite supply of funds, what would appeal to the widest variety of people? When audio books became more popular, what made some publishers more successful than others? From “public” playing of talking books in one’s living room (a BIG no no!) to the idea that any form of “hearing” books being viewed by society as “lazy”, I found myself wrestling with some of those questions, even as I read an audio book while making dinner or going for a run.

And talking books are constantly changing, even today. Now, books on CD are still available for purchase by consumers and libraries, even as digital repositories are gaining popularity. Some audio books for adults have included (as they did for children all those years ago) sound effects and music to enhance the experience. Rubery provides a compelling case that there is room in the marketplace for audio books as they are, and as they will become in the years ahead.

 

Conclusion

 

A seasoned audio book consumer, I learned a lot from this book. From the little things (like why some libraries for the blind include warnings about violence or strong language in their book descriptions) to the big things (wondering how the printed word became so “sacred” after cultures used oral storytelling for centuries), there is much to take away from this book. Whether you read it with your eyes or your ears, it provides much food for thought and interesting discussion.

4/5 stars.

Book Review: Not Fade Away

31 Monday Oct 2016

Posted by blindbeader in Book reviews, Nonfiction

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

acceptance, Book reviews, deaf-blind

Years ago, I read “Not Fade Away” by Rebecca Alexander, who most recently has (among many other things) been part of the Foundation Fighting Blindness’ controversial “How Eye See It” campaign. I found her book compulsively readable, in a chatty, conversational style, even as I grew frustrated with her desire or need to hide her deafness or blindness or, alternatively, push herself SO hard. Without taking away from her own lived experiences (of which she is incredibly self-aware), I wish (and maybe she does in hindsight) that she’d made life easier on herself by reaching a place of acceptance earlier.

Last year, I introduced you to Tracy in my post written by deaf-blind women. She shares my overall impressions of the book, as well as some of Rebecca’s own lived experiences. She graciously allowed me to share her own review of “Not Fade Away.” Take it away, Tracy!

 

Tracy’s Review

“Not Fade Away” – about a woman slowly losing her hearing and vision – may read as inspirational to most people, but for me as a deafblind woman it just irritated me.
We have shared experiences in deafblindness (in her later years after she finally accepted it). We both have trouble hearing and seeing in dark, noisy places; we were reluctant to start using a white cane; we both have a cochlear implant; and we both have similar reactions from the public such as asking if we need a wheelchair. We both are uncomfortable about being called someone’s “inspiration” just for dealing with our everyday lives. I also connected with the author in her coping skills as a child. We both believed we weren’t good enough for our parents, escaped a lot into imaginary worlds in our heads, and made up stories to try and get other kids to like us.
The book is described as “a memoir of senses lost and found”, yet it reads like a diary in mixed chronological order of memories of her parents’ divorce, her brother’s mental illness, her eating disorder, her fight with self-image and such. Much of the reference to her Usher’s Syndrome was dedicated to how much she hated and all the attempts to deny it even when it was obvious to those around her.
I get that she doesn’t want her deafblindness to be at the forefront of everything, but denying that she has it is like denying she has a nose on her face – almost everyone can see that she does. She could save a lot of frustration by being upfront about it.
Maybe it’s my background of already been born deafblind and not having to go through the transitional period of losing senses that made for my jaded view of this book. Maybe it’s my nonchalant attitude on life. I’m not afraid of letting people know about my deafblindness and what I need for accommodations. This is who I am, it’s a part of me and if you don’t like it, fine, go about your own life, your loss not mine.
Even though the author never displayed a “victim mentality” that some people develop after a disability diagnosis, she went the opposite way of being an over-achiever so that when people find out she’s losing her hearing and sight that they’ll like her anyway.
I just wanted to shake her and scream “there’s nothing wrong with being deafblind! You are still going to be you and you can still do everything and you have done a lot more than most able-bodied people! So just ACCEPT it! Who gives a crap what others think or how they view you!”
She states in a chapter in the middle of the book “I have a true understanding of what it means to take each day as it comes, with its joys and sorrows and complications, and to make the most of it.” This irritated me because I felt that she never truly did learn this, as later chapters still show her denying and excusing her losing vision and hearing. She also said in a chapter near the end, “I was only going to make life harder on myself by not accepting help.” It would have made her life a lot easier if she’d accepted this 50 chapters ago.
We all know getting a “terminal” diagnosis is dreadful and life-changing. Everyone would go through the different stages of grief of denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. I just felt that the author spent about 3/4th of the book in denial.
This book just did nothing but aggravate me and left me confused – why couldn’t she just get around to accepting it?

 

Tracy and I both give this book a 3/5-star rating.

Book Review: Touching the World

31 Wednesday Aug 2016

Posted by blindbeader in Book reviews, Nonfiction

≈ Leave a comment

I rarely read books more than once. If I do, it’s because there’s so much material that I just know that I missed something the first time around, and I’m usually right. “Touching the World” by Cathy Birchall and Bernard Smith is one such rare occurrence.

About the book

Touching the World is the extraordinary story of Cathy Birchall, a blind woman, who set off with her companion Bernard Smith, to become the first blind person ever to circle the world on a motorbike, an 18 year old BMW R100. What transpired has become an inspirational worldwide story that challenges people to question their own self-imposed boundaries. From desolate and dangerous mountain roads, difficult border crossings and numerous mechanical breakdowns, to climbing Wayna Picchu (first ever blind woman to do so) and riding an elephant mounted from the front (via its trunk!) – not to mention a poignant visit to the Centre for Blind Women in Delhi where they talked to women abandoned by their husbands, and an (inadvertent) overnight stay in a Kosovan brothel – this book has it all, travel, adventure, triumph over adversity, and through it comes a real sense of just what it means to be blind. Their heart-warming writing reflects a vivid account of the world, often hilarious and always positive.

Blindness: both Ever-Present and Absent

This book is a traveler’s journey. It is in some ways about blindness but in others it’s about learning more about yourself and others than you ever thought possible. In many ways Cathy’s blindness elicits sympathy, while in others it opens the minds of those she encounters. I wonder if she would be treated differently had she been a local, or had her blindness been immediately obvious (as it’s indicated clearly that it’s not) or had she visited certain places alone. Her own views on blindness – about being as independent as possible – really resonated with me, though her partner guides her through public women’s washrooms, which I found incongruous and strange. A couple of passages where her hands are guided to chairs or wineglasses are viewed by her as “kindness” (possibly due to language barriers?), but may be considered as invasive to others. That being said, Cathy has an articulate way of responding to her blindness, describing how many blind people get things done, as well as her own viewpoints regarding education, employment and marriage for a blind person.

But it’s not just about that. One reviewer indicates that not enough was made of Cathy’s blindness in this book, that it didn’t encompass the journey as a whole… I tend to disagree. It was neither the focal point of this book, nor was it discounted. The journey was more about a lifelong dream of Bernard’s in which Cathy enthusiastically participated.

Traveling, Digging Deep, Swerving Into the Curves

I’ve got a thing for motorcycles. Riding around the world would probably never be my dream, but it’s fantastic that it has been done. Cathy and Bernard’s year around the world showed them – and, by extension, me – that people are really not so different after all. Maybe circumstances are different – one country’s residents struggle for employment while another can’t get enough food – but they found people (even in areas they were told not to attempt to ride) were warm-hearted, generous, and open to learn. From the security detail that trailed them most of the way through Pakistan, to the (sometimes helpful, sometimes not) border or Visa agents they encountered on their journey, to the hospitable Nepalese who gave them respite from the Indian roads that nearly destroyed them emotionally if not physically, they were looked after many steps of the way.

While they were overwhelmingly positive during many portions of their journey – even through mechanical breakdowns, government bureaucracy, and inadvertently spending nights in brothels – I would not agree that it’s “always`positive.” In fact, there were certain points – India comes to mind, but there are others – where both Cathy and Bernard were at their breaking point. The last two weeks saw them simply wanting to be going home – after zipping through small central American countries, then the heat of Mexico, and then having to book it eastward to make it home on time (thanks to American bureaucracy). You see them and their relationship, warts and all, and in this reader’s opinion made it a more well-rounded book.

Conclusion

If you’ve ever wondered about foreign countries – culture, food, living conditions – in some ways this book only scratches the surface. Blindness organizations were explored in many countries – guide dog training centers, schools, vocational training centres – but, again, it wasn’t necessarily the focal point of their journey. I enjoyed every minute of this book, but it left me hungry for more. Thankfully, the World Tour Web site has many bits of information about the trip and what happens next. My understanding is that Bernard has another – in many ways more difficult – book ahead of him, and while it will be without Cathy’s wry sense of humour, I think I’ll see traces of her in it.

Overall, “Touching the World” was both moving and poignant, with moments that delighted, frightened, and inspired me.

4.5/5 stars.

Book Review: Crashing Through

30 Thursday Jun 2016

Posted by blindbeader in blindness, Book reviews, Nonfiction

≈ 3 Comments

It’s not uncommon for strangers, friends, and family to ask me the question: if you had the opportunity to see, would you? My friend Meagan has written a concise answer to the question (an opinion that I share). Science has not addressed curing the causes of my blindness, so at this moment, for me the question is moot. But I can’t deny my own sense of curiosity about the uncommon transition from blindness to sight; the reverse has been chronicled extensively, including a woman who allegedly blinded herself.

 

Crashing Through: A true Story of Risk, Adventure, and the Man who Dared to See
By: Robert Kurson

 

Blinded at age three, Mike May defied expectations by breaking world records in downhill speed skiing, joining the CIA, and becoming a successful inventor, entrepreneur, and family man. He had never yearned for vision.
Then, in 1999, a chance encounter brought startling news: a revolutionary stem-cell transplant surgery could restore May’s vision. The procedure was filled with risks, some of them deadly, others beyond May’s wildest dreams. There were countless reasons for May to pass on vision. He could think of only a single reason to go forward. Whatever his decision, he knew it would change his life.
Beautifully written and thrillingly told, Crashing Through is a journey of suspense, daring, romance, and insight into the mysteries of vision and the brain. Robert Kurson gives us a fascinating account of one man’s choice to explore what it means to see – and to truly live.

 

Touching All the bases

 

This book is a combination of autobiography and scientific exploration of vision. Kurson’s look into Mike May’s life – both pre- and post-surgery – is effectively drawn. With a journalist’s precision, he details the chemical reaction that caused Mike’s blindness, the uphill battle his mother fought to admit him into a public school, and Mike’s struggles and successes in his personal and professional life. When Mike begins to become accustomed to his vision, it’s not all sunshine and roses; sometimes it’s incredibly frustrating to go along that journey with May and Kurson. Much of the latter third of the book details the scientific research that helped explain what he could see and why other visual input was so challenging.

 

Mike May: A Blind Man who can See

 

Kurson shies away from characterizing Mike as an angel or hero or otherwise “super blind man.” Sure, he did a lot of exciting and great stuff with his life, but it’s not framed as “despite his blindness, he…”. Mike May’s curiosity of the world in his childhood and early adulthood set the stage for him to embrace the challenge of vision, and the author draws this out with particularly nuanced emphasis. Mike May now has good vision, but it is clear that he cannot process what he is seeing the way a fully sighted person can; he is, effectively, a blind man who can see. It is clear that Mike May was intimately involved in the creation of this book, something that’s quite rare for blind subjects of biographies written by sighted authors.

 

Some Drawbacks

 

I personally found it incredibly disconcerting that during the entirety of the book, Mike May was referred to as “May”. The reason for this is unclear to me, but even in incredibly moving descriptions of discovering new things he could see, or describing some of the challenges he faced, having him referred to as “May” made it almost seem clinical and removed.
Some of the scientific data, while fascinating, could have been included in smaller portions throughout the book, rather than all in one chunk (though I do realize that much of the scientific data Mike May discovered at a particular time in his “vision journey”). I don’t know if there’s any way to make both biography and science lovers happy, but this review is my own.

 

Conclusion

 

If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to receive vision after nearly a lifetime of blindness, this book chronicles one man’s journey well. It’s not always necessarily a happy story, but it’s an important one. After reading this book, I still hold the same opinion on restoring or improving my vision given the chance, but that opinion is still my own. If surgery is the answer for some, that’s terrific; if not, that’s OK, too. But Robert Kurson and Mike May have given me much food for thought.
4/5 stars.

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