Category Archives: Book reviews

Book Review: Touch the Top of the World

28 Tuesday Feb 2017

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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 Fault Tree

31 Tuesday Jan 2017

Posted by in Book reviews, Fiction

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Who doesn’t like a good mystery? years ago, that’s all I read. One day I realized I was moving away from the genre because I got tired of the shoot-’em-up finales where someone always wound up dead. But years ago, when this book was first released, I read it and loved it because it featured a blind protagonist with a job and everything! I decided recently to re-read and review it on this blog… have my views changed?

 

The Fault Tree

By: Louise Ure

 

For one woman, the dark is a dangerous place to be, and it’s the one place she cannot escape. Arizona auto mechanic Cadence Moran is no stranger to darkness. She was blinded in a horrific car accident eight years ago that also took the life of her three-year-old niece. She knows she was only partially to blame, but that doesn’t make the loss any easier to bear. She’s learned to get by, but there are still painful memories. When she is almost run down by a speeding car on the way home from work, Cadence at first thinks that she is the victim of road rage or a bad driver. But that’s not the case. In fact, she is the only witness to the murder of her elderly neighbor, and now the killer believes that she’s seen the getaway car. Louise Ure paints the glare of a Southwestern summer with the brush of a blind woman’s darkness in this novel of jeopardy and courage…. and the fine line between them – as Cadence fights to stop a killer she can’t see.

 

(Second) First Impressions

 

The first thing I noticed was that this book had no cheesy title about sight, darkness, or vision. Most books that have blind protagonists fall into cliched titles like this, I was thrilled that Louise Ure chose to forego this. Instead, she uses the “Fault Tree” to symbolize guilt, punishment (by oneself or others) and pennence. The second was the fact that Cadence is a tough-talking blind woman with an unconventional job as a car mechanic. The third was the fact that she truly hadn’t come to terms with her blindness.

 

Word Pictures

 

Louise Ure paints verbal word pictures of the Arizona desert. It’s rugged, beautiful, harsh landscapes are described in ways that engage all of the senses, from the prickly cactus to the sounds of the night to the desert heat. Part of this, I am sure, was to get inside of Cadence’s head; partly, I am also sure, because this author loves this land.

 

Cadence and Discord

 

I’ve written above about how I love Cadence’s unconventional job. As a blind car mechanic, she doesn’t fall into a stereotypical job, and she’s a true part of the team at the shop. She uses her ears to listen for engine troubles, the other guys help her with visual work. Some might take offense to her nickname (“Stick”) and how incredulous the shop owner was when she applied for a job, but it’s a tough industry and it’s painted realisticly. Cadence travels independently, using her other senses to orient herself. She cooks well, labels things, and does other things that blind people all over the world do.  her brother created a special cane for her because she doesn’t like the white ones (this was, again, written at a time before coloured or customized canes were more common), and he takes her flying in an airplane to celebrate her birthday every year (something that comes in handy later).

That being said, I have HUGE problems with Cadence. This book may have been written before the iPhone became mainstream, but computers were definitely in use, and Cadence chooses not to use them. She touches peoples’ faces (sometimes without permission) and doesn’t seem to want anyone else to know that she’s blind. This last point puts her in danger when a killer thinks that she’s seen him leave the scene of a crime.

 

Other Frustrations

 

The heightened-other-senses trope. Can it just die already? Cadence smells things, feels things, hears things, and relies on them too much. Sometimes she’s right and (thankfully) sometimes she realizes that they’re just excess information. But the police either dismiss her outright or they think she’s got super-powers.

About three quarters of the way through the book, we know who the murderer is, and we know why. The last quarter is devoted to the police interviewing neighbors and family, while Cadence finds herself in the crosshairs of a murderer. Cadence shows terrific problem-solving skills to get herself and her niece out of a jam, but some of it stretches credibility.

 

Conclusion

 

It’s not a bad way to spend an afternoon, reading this book. You need to stretch credibility pretty far, but the descriptions of the Arizona summer almost carry this book. I found that Cadence, in particular, frustrated me. She would’ve frustrated me as a headstrong sighted character, too, but as a blind one she just made me want to shake her for making things harder on herself.

2.5/5 stars.

Book Review: The Untold Story of the Talking Book

31 Saturday Dec 2016

Posted by in Book reviews, Nonfiction

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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: The Reluctant Midwife

30 Wednesday Nov 2016

Posted by in Book reviews, Fiction

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There are three topics that will almost always make me want to pick up a book: the Great Depression, midwifery, and Appalachia. Put them together, and I HAD to read Patricia Harman’s Hope River novels: The Midwife of Hope River (TMOHR) and The Reluctant Midwife (TRM). While TMOHR, in this reader’s opinion, has much more charm and depth, I am reviewing TRM due to its themes of disability that run through much of the novel.

 

About the Book

The Great Depression has hit West Virginia hard. Men are out of work; women struggle to feed hungry children. Luckily, Nurse Becky Myers has returned to care for them. While she can handle most situations, Becky is still uneasy helping women deliver their babies. For these mothers-to-be, she relies on an experienced midwife, her dear friend Patience Murphy.
Though she is happy to be back in Hope River, time and experience have tempered Becky’s cheerfulness-as tragedy has destroyed the vibrant spirit of her former employer Dr Isaac Blum, who has accompanied her. Patience too has changed. Married and expecting a baby herself, she is relying on Becky to keep the mothers of Hope River safe.
But becoming a midwife and ushering precious new life into the world is not Becky’s only challenge. Her skills and courage will be tested when a calamitous forest fire blazes through a Civilian Conservation Corps camp. And she must find a way to bring Isaac back to life and rediscover the hope they both need to go on.

 

A note about Audio

As many readers of this blog read via audiobook, I will say that the narrator, Heather Henderson, is competent but not stellar. There are portions that would have been conveyed more clearly with a second narrator; they are written in first-person point of view, like the majority of the book in Becky’s POV, but Henderson’s voice does not change enough to make this distinct shift. It’s not a bad audiobook, but these are quibbles to keep in mind.

 

Disability: Center Stage

TRM visits many characters first introduced in TMOHR. It is probably best that TMOHR is read first, but Harman deftly describes what the reader may have missed. In theory, four years have passed since the end of TMOHR, but so much has stayed the same, even as a couple of characters have married or moved on. There are several physically disabled characters in this book (TRM), many of them mothers or women who wish to become mothers, who had brief side roles in TMOHR. This is a terrific departure from most fiction, which seems to portray disabled characters as having no sexuality. What’s also refreshing is that no one seems to bat an eye at Lily, a blind woman (who possesses angelic qualities and finely-tuned senses of hearing and smell – with which I have my own quibbles), raising a child with her husband. Ideally, Harman could have further explored this avenue of Lily’s life – as it’s not uncommon for parents with disabilities to have to prove their fitness as parents – particularly since Lily interacts frequently with Becky Myers, the nurse/midwife. Another character, paralyzed due to polio, uses a wheelchair to navigate her home, and consults Becky when she believes she is pregnant. Again, no one seems to think twice about her carrying a child due to her disability (though there are concerns due to the polio itself and a painful loss of a child years ago). Spouses and employers seem to want to make accommodations as needed for loved ones or employees to maintain their dignity and independence – wider doorways in the home, lower countertops and workbenches, setting up work projects for a blind spouse on bed rest. Again, this is a refreshing dip of the toes in the water of disability, dignity, sexuality, and parenthood, which could have made this book thoroughly enjoyable, but…

 

Some Big problems

Maybe it was a reflection of the times. Maybe it was the author’s point of view. Maybe it was an ending that was too neat and tidy. But Becky Myers herself was truly unlikable and seemed to lack the compassion of those in the helping professions. She worries about everything and is truly inexperienced as a midwife, something I found bizarre for a woman who ran a women’s health clinic for years. When the doctor she’s been assisting for years develops disabilities of his own, she totes him around like a pet, speaks to him like a dog, resents his presence, presumes him incompetent… Becky may have nursing training, but either has no compassion for some of those in her care or hasn’t developed the skills to avoid burnout. Words like “cripple”, “wheelchair bound”, and “sightless” are used to describe the townspeople with disabilities.

Dr. Blum begins the book unable to care at all for himself, but slowly gains independence once others presume his competence. He poignantly describes having words to say but being frequently unable to express them verbally. But he himself is manipulative, knowing he can perform personal care tasks for himself but allowing Becky to do them for him, reads Becky’s journal without her permission or consent. Even so, he performs complex surgery when pressed into service and recovers too neatly and tidily, feeding the idea that illness needs to be cured completely in order to be happy…

 

Conclusion

TRM lacks the depth, humour and charm of TMOHR. Even so, it takes some important steps in the right direction, making physical disability intersect sexuality and parenthood. But it missteps in some painful, ableist ways as well. It’s worth a read particularly if you like TMOHR (which is warm and poignant a la “Call the Midwife”), but it’s worth noting some concerns about mental illness or other disabilities whose cause and symptoms are unknown or unpredictable. One can argue, maybe even successfully, that the language and attitudes were products of that particular time and place, but that can only take one so far. Some of the words, attitudes and ideas still persist today – even if beneath the surface – and it’s important to acknowledge that.

3/5 stars.

Book Review: Not Fade Away

31 Monday Oct 2016

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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: WWW – Wake (guest review by Meagan Houle)

07 Friday Oct 2016

Posted by in Book reviews, Fiction

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From the first blog post I wrote about books with blind characters, I’ve been regularly encouraged to read and review Robert J. Sawyer’s WWW series, about a blind teenager who becomes friends with the World Wide Web. In my defense… I tried to read the first book, Wake. I tried more than once. But science fiction really isn’t my thing, and I found I couldn’t give the book an objective review because of it.

Thankfully, my dear friend Meagan stepped up and offered to read and review the book, and graciously allowed me to edit it and publish it here on my blog. Thanks, Meagan, for taking time out of your hectic schedule to help a friend!

 

About the Book

Caitlin Decter is young, pretty, feisty, a genius at math – and blind. Still, she can surf the net with the best of them, following its complex paths clearly in her mind.
But Caitlin’s brain long ago co-opted her primary visual cortex to help her navigate online. So when she receives an implant to restore her sight, instead of seeing reality, the landscape of the World Wide Web explodes into her consciousness, spreading out all around her in a riot of colors and shapes.
While exploring this amazing realm, she discovers something – some other – lurking in the background. And it’s getting more and more intelligent with each passing day.

 

General Observations

this book is like so many sci-fi books I’ve read: the premise is absolutely fascinating, and the research is impressive. Here, our author spares us no details, and it’s clear that he’s given this book an enormous amount of careful
thought. I like his imagination, his intelligence, and his clear
commitment to fleshing out a complicated idea in a way that’s accessible to everyone. Unfortunately, character development, stilted writing and narrative flow are sacrificed in the name of a good plot. The science, while being fascinating and necessary, often crowds the story itself, dismissing the characters to a shadowy corner while the author embarks upon complex trains of thought.

 

Emotional Complexity

Even with a unique protagonist, it seemed that Sawyer attempted to insert excess emotional depth while leaving some characters stilted and wooden.

This isn’t to say that the author did not sometimes strike gold. There
were moments of startling brilliance in this book, where I actually
found myself tearing up. Caitlin’s interactions with Webmind, for example, while awkwardly written, are fun and engaging and wonderfully quaint. It made me
wonder what it would really be like to converse with a whole new kind of consciousness–something I’d often pondered briefly but never been moved to really sink my teeth into.

 

How do the Blind… do… Anything? TMI!

I began this book being quite dismayed, and mostly stayed that way throughout the book. The author, in typical scifi writer fashion, gave us far too much information about how Caitlin does every little thing. He goes so far as to explain the precise keystrokes she uses to operate her screen reader, which interrupts the flow of the text and was really distracting to me. We do not need to know that she has just hit a command to shift her computer’s focus or make her screen reader read an entire email aloud. I understand that the author is trying to help us understand blind people, but the execution is downright painful. Sadly, this pattern continued, broken only occasionally by relevant information (for instance, describing cane travel). Right through to the end, though, we’re bombarded with essentially useless trivia about how Caitlin navigates her world, even at times when it really disrupts everything else.

 

Nuggets of Gold

Now, the author did get a couple of things exactly right–so right it was almost uncomfortable. He pegged the social isolation, the transition from a dedicated school for the blind to a mainstream school, and the general anxiety a teenage girl  will feel when she’s getting to know a new boy. When the boy in question mistreats her because of her blindness, the devastation and humiliation she experiences are achingly familiar. I sucked in my breath and skimmed for a while, not wanting to linger in that place longer than I needed to. I imagine this will have an impact on sighted readers, who understand intellectually why this behaviour would be wrong but may not be able to tell exactly how it might feel until they are forced to imagine it directly.
The other thing I liked about this character was her frustration with the world at large. She’s fiercely independent, gifted and capable, but she still has to deal with people’s perceptions of her. Her struggle to preserve bodily autonomy and personal agency are, once again, very familiar to me. While she’s still getting used to her new school, her tray is physically taken from her hands, even after she has said she does not want to have it carried for her. Her own wishes are considered irrelevant, which so often happens to us when we don’t want help and are given it nonetheless. I can identify with her annoyance and sense of futility.

The author also portrayed well the assumptions and mistakes made by parents, even when they have parented a blind child for such a long time. Caitlin still has to remind her parents that she does not use a mouse, or that she can’t perceive this or that. The moments of awkwardness stand out sharply because her family is so used to her the rest of the time. I have experienced this with my own family: 22 years later and they still slip up sometimes. I see it as an encouraging sign: it means they’re not constantly thinking of me as “other.”

 

Regaining Sight: the Miracle Cure

Now, to address the part of the story I have little knowledge of: the process of gaining sight when you’ve never had any. I’ve been severely visually impaired my whole life, but I do have enough sight to understand concepts like colour and light. Caitlin didn’t have any of this, so when she was given it almost all at once, I expected her to be more than excited. I expected her to be overwhelmed, anxious, even scared. I thought that all the new stimuli going to her brain would, at the very least, throw her off for a bit. While she is definitely dazzled by her new vision, and it takes her a while to learn how to use it, the transition seems far too easy to be realistic. The author portrays the blindness cure as something that will somehow turn Caitlin’s life right around and fix her. She is so gloriously happy and comfortable with her new sense almost right away, which rings false to me. Again, I can’t say what it would be like, but judging by deaf people’s reactions when they hear for the first time, it would be far more impactful than this author is making it look. Again, we have a case of the plot moving relentlessly onward, giving Caitlin hardly any time to adjust.

 

General Conclusions

The author had the right idea, and was working with some very interesting plot points. He captured moments of raw emotional power, and tackled controversial issues with grace. That said, the prose was often stilted, the characters poorly-developed, and the blind character awkwardly-written. I would not recommend the book to a blind person, and would hesitate to recommend it at all, as a general reader. I have little patience with clumsy writing, so while I really did want to like this book, I could hardly even finish it.

2.5/5 stars.

Book Review: Touching the World

31 Wednesday Aug 2016

Posted by in Book reviews, Nonfiction

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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: The Branch of Hazel

31 Sunday Jul 2016

Posted by in Book reviews, Fiction

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Short stories are not normally my preferred reading material. Not long after my trip to New York, I discovered Grand Central, an anthology of unconnected stories taking place at New York’s Grand Central Station on one day in September 1945. I loved New York so much, and have a serious fascination with the post-War period, so of course I had to read it. Little did I know that I would find one story with a blind character that would leave me scrambling to discover the author.

“The Branch of Hazel” by Sarah McCoy was that story.

It is less about the blind man, but by how his brief interaction with a woman formerly part of the Lebensborn program changed her life.

A man and a woman meet on a train. It is not a love story; he is already married, and she’s been so used by men. But he enables her to see that where she’s been and where she’s going are both so similar and so different.

This story is hard to read, particularly as it puts to voice many of the ideas about disability that are faced by disabled people today. The woman on the train had two children in the Lebensborn program, one of whom had been taken away for being a “Mongoloid”. The businessman on the train is impeccably dressed, with perfect manners; he faces life with realism and optimism – and discrimination with firmness and grace – that is both fairly unique and yet sets him up to be the “angelic blind character” that sets my teeth on edge. He notices her perfume because his mother used to wear it, he knows what direction the wind is blowing based on other factors, and my city-slicker thinking makes me wonder if such observational skills really did exist in that time and place.

Ultimately, this man – with a mind for business, a wife and son at home, and the words of a priest – opened this woman’s eyes to a new way of life. Without spoiling other elements to this story, I’m glad it was his openness and patience that pushed her forward into a new way of thinking.

4/5 stars.

Book Review: Crashing Through

30 Thursday Jun 2016

Posted by in blindness, Book reviews, Nonfiction

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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.

Book Review: Not if I See you First

31 Tuesday May 2016

Posted by in Book reviews, Fiction

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Whenever I pick up a book – particularly a novel – knowing one of the main characters is blind, I approach it with equal parts dread and optimism. Optimism because without that I wouldn’t bother reading the book at all; dread because so many depictions of us include such inaccurate tropes as “superhero with mystical extrasensory powers” or “severely incapable infantalized adult.” Though Young-adult fiction hasn’t been one of my preferred genres in a very long time, Eric Lindstrom (the author of this book) and a few other authors might change that in short order.

 

Not if I see You First

By: Eric Lindstrom

 

It’s been more than fifteen years since I was the age of Parker Grant, the main character in Eric Lindstrom’s novel published late last year. Then how is it possible that I see so much of myself in her? Part of it is her in-your-face attitude; the other part is her bravado that masks a deep sense of insecurity. This has been me. This is me. Oh, and did I mention she runs, too?

 

Summary

 

The Rules:
Don’t deceive me. Ever. Especially using my blindness. Especially in public.
Don’t help me unless I ask. Otherwise you’re just getting in my way or bothering me.
Don’t be weird. Seriously, other than having my eyes closed all the time, I’m just like you only smarter.
Parker Grant doesn’t need 20/20 vision to see right through you. That’s why she created the Rules: Don’t treat her any differently just because she’s blind, and never take advantage. There will be no second chances. Just ask Scott Kilpatrick, the boy who broke her heart.
When Scott suddenly reappears in her life after being gone for years, Parker knows there’s only one way to react-shun him so hard it hurts. She has enough on her mind already, like trying out for the track team (that’s right, her eyes don’t work but her legs still do), doling out tough-love advice to her painfully naive classmates, and giving herself gold stars for every day she hasn’t cried since her dad’s death three months ago. But avoiding her past quickly proves impossible, and the more Parker learns about what really happened–both with Scott, and her dad–the more she starts to question if things are always as they seem. Maybe, just maybe, some Rules are meant to be broken.

 

A note about Audio

 

The narrator of the commercial audio edition, Lauren Fortgang, became Parker Grant. Her voices for the supporting cast were distinct and memorable, even if not always pitch-perfect and pleasing (hey, not all people have pleasant voices, either). If you can, scoop this up in audio format; it enhances the reading experience.

 

Parker, the Mirror

 

Parker Grant. The take-no-prisoners, hands-off, say-what-she-thinks main character of this book. She’s book-smart, fiercely independent (she runs alone every morning at 6:00AM), and doesn’t give two hoots about what anyone says or thinks about her. Around her is a small group of friends who love her for who she is, even if she’s emotionally distant to them and can be incredibly self-absorbed. Even though some of the specifics were different between me growing up (and maybe even now) and Parker Grant, it was like Mr. Lindstrom held up a mirror in front of my face, with the reflection screaming at me “THIS IS YOU!”

 

Reasonable Tropes and Refreshing New Looks

 

As Kody Keplinger wrote in her terrific review of this book, for the most part Lindstrom shies away from tropes for Parker. It became important to him for Parker to have no vision – a common trope for blind characters – for a variety of reasons, primarily for her to misunderstand or simply not consider visual nuance. Even Parker’s fierce independence is in line with her as a risk-taker because that’s who she would have been, blind or not. She also evidences insecurities about herself in small ways – not wanting to eat “messy” foods like lasagna in front of a date. Instead of the dark glasses that are not uncommon in books and movies with blind characters, Parker chooses to wear blindfolds (bandanas or scarves over her eyes) as both a unique fashion statement that can’t be duplicated and as a way to hide her insecurity. I respectfully disagree with Kody that the latter explanation overshadows the former; both are consistent with who Parker is and can both motivate her actions simultaneously. This bravado-meets-insecurity makes her a complex, nuanced character that avoids many of the inaccuracies written into blind characters in mass media.

 

With a Little Help from My Friends

 

Lindstrom also avoids the trope of the “poor loaner blind girl.” Parker has old friends Sarah and Faith – and the ghost of Scott’s friendship – with her, and new potential friends Jason and Molly. Surprisingly, Lindstrom depicts female friendships incredibly well, with none of the cattiness and all of the miscommunication, strong bonding, and tough love that filter through even the deepest of female friendships. But his grasp on the male-female relationships were unconvincing; something was missing from Parker’s interplay with Scott and with Jason. Jason just seemed to be… there… to be Mr. Almost-Perfect, while Scott patiently waited in the background for Parker to come to her senses and talk to him. Neither really rang true as a romantic interest for some reason, but Parker’s ultimate realizations about Scott provided some messy, touching, Hollywood-worthy moments with just enough nuance to avoid slipping into really sappy territory. There was no true “resolution”, but life is like that sometimes – messy and incomplete and sometimes you just don’t know.

 

Conclusion

 

Parker is not always the most likeable of characters, which is in fact what I loved about her. She’s prickly, feisty and opinionated; she loves her friends and hates to be buttonholed into what is expected of her. I saw enough of myself in some pretty scary ways that I wanted to rip the headphones out of my ears, give her a shake (if she didn’t run away or hit me first), and provide her some pearls of wisdom as someone who has traveled many of the same paths as she has and emotionally responded in many of the same ways.

But, since I can’t do that, I can at least encourage you to spend some time with Parker. Tell-it-like-it-is types will love her take-no-crap attitude. If you’re an empath, you’ll want to comfort her when that shell cracks wide open. Runners will marvel at her discipline. If you’re none or all of these things, go along for the ride; it’s well worth your time to support an author who created a blind character that is so nuanced and human. You’ll never forget Parker Grant is blind, and she wouldn’t want you to; but don’t get in her way!

 

5/5 stars.