The Man who Mistook his Wife for a Hat

 

A colleague lent me this non-fiction book, written in 1985. My colleague and I had a conversation about my head injury and subsequent memory difficulties, during which she mentioned The Man Who Mistook his Wife for a Hat, which covered the science of memory. In this book, Oliver Sacks, an American Neurologist, weaves anecdotes from his days of handling patients, and contemporaneous developments in treatments for those with head traumas, low IQs, phantom limbs, autism and Tourettes. Many other conditions and ailments pass his desk and his accounts of these meetings are uplifting, tragic, humorous and still educational to the layman today. (Heads up for us laymen- you will need a dictionary.)

A quarter of a century on, and things have changed: the fields of psychology and psychiatry now have a lot more understanding of a range of conditions, including those covered in the book. You’re unlikely to have all the latest knowledge already, though, so good chunks of this book will still be hugely interesting to anyone who enjoys learning about psychology. What has also developed, though, is our own language when discussing these conditions. I didn't like the references to learning disabled patients as 'Simple Simons,' 'savages' or 'mental cripples.' A chapter starts out with the line, 'When I started working with retardates...' Jesus fucking Christ. The treatments and circumstances are always interesting, and in some cases fascinating and feel almost revelatory even today, but describing two learning disabled twins as 'a sort of grotesque Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee' smacks of disgust, both from the author and in turn from the reader about the author.

The USA is very begrudgingly starting to shake off its obsession with Christianity. As other religions build prevalence (Islam is the fastest-growing in the States), Atheism is also building a following of sorts, if today's social media is anything to go by. (US-based organisation Atheist Republic has 2.4 million Facebook followers.) Sacks is as religious as you might expect from an American doctor in the 1970s, and he throws in some straight-faced references to 'the soul.' Thankfully these are not permeative and most of his writing sticks to the cold, hard science. But then, on the issue of made-up things, he does throw in the odd word that Dictionary.com doesn't recognise, like 'migrainous' (i.e. the state of having a migraine).

A later chapter discusses two autistic savant twins who undergo treatment to allow them to learn a little about the world away from numbers, the field in which they brilliantly excel. As they begin to develop basic practical skills, these genius twins lose their 'power, and with this the chief joy and sense of their lives.’ All in exchange for the ability to, for instance, catch a bus. Sacks considers this 'a small price to pay.' Is it? Really? There's no mention of him asking either twin if they think it is.

I've spent my time, in the last 11 or 12 years, under branches of clinical psychology, neuropsychology, psychotherapy and counselling. I can attest that today's medical world is vastly different to that of Sacks and his era. Language, when discussing people with disabilities, is crucial for respect and motivational reasons, and thankfully the way we treat psychological conditions has come on a long way, as has the vernacular with which we describe it.

Absolutely fascinating, but absolutely dated.