Oliver Sacks (1933–2015)

fascinating stuff. this book is a kind of memoir slash clinical study slash history slash overview of the neurological process behind hallucinations.

there is no complicated scientific jargon, formulae, or indecipherable charts to wade through. in plain language, Sacks gives dozens of brief anecdotes from his decades of practice that give examples of the hallucinations people experience. the sheer number and variety of them experienced by people from all walks of life moved me into a show more slightly different paradigm of human perception and daily life. not only do we constantly gloss over sensory and semantic illusions (ie they aren’t limited to the optical realm) because our neurosystems are built to eek out patterns that are meaningful to the human mind from the ambient noise of our everyday surroundings, our brains, it seems, can create them whole-cloth, in detail, as if our eyes or ears or skin were truly experiencing them.

it’s hard to refrain from commenting on the ramifications of this information because it could mean so much to changing the world if we could all realize just how mutable our realities are. many of the hallucinations reported by people were not recognized as such at first. this then begs the question of how many times do we have hallucinations and never realize it? profound, i think.

but let me be clear: Sacks does not have an agenda in this book other than to educate people on the fact that hallucinations are a normal part of being a human being with a nervous system. the ethical and existential machinations above are mine alone.

back to the book: Sacks is a clear writer and not afraid to speak informally and even self-disclose. the memoir aspect of the book doesn’t stop and start with him recalling clinical cases, it also involves his own experiences with drug use, trauma, and the hallucinations that stemmed from them.

this is a really good read if you are at all interested in human perception and neuroscience. show less

Series of twenty-four essays about people with neurological conditions, focusing on the patient’s experiences. Sacks did not agree with the categorization of mental dysfunctions as “types,” which are treated in the same manner regardless of individual nuances. His goal was to use these case studies to improve physicians’ treatment methods, to go beyond the “one size fits all” approach to treating neurological issues. He specifically desired to find unique ways to help each show more individual discover a sense of personal identity, leading to a more meaningful life.

“To restore the human subject at the center—the suffering, afflicted, fighting human subject—we must deepen a case history to a narrative or tale; only then do we have a “who” as well as a “what,” a real person, a patient, in relation to disease—in relation to the physical. The patient’s essential being is very relevant in the higher reaches of neurology, and in psychology; for here the patient’s personhood is essentially involved, and the study of disease and of identity cannot be disjoined.”

These true stories contain a variety of subjects, such as loss of memory, people whose limbs feel foreign, those who cannot recognize faces, some whose deficits are more than offset by amazing artistic or mathematical skills. They are told in an empathetic way, and they are truly absorbing. First published in 1985, there is a small amount of “dated” language, as the author acknowledges in his introduction to the new edition. There is also a bit of terminology that may not be familiar to the layperson.

I have had this book on my “to read” list for a very long while and am glad to have finally read it. I appreciated the follow-ups to each story, which tells the reader what happened to each individual (where the information was available). I found it fascinating. If you are even slightly interested in neuroscience it will be well worth the time invested.

“I wish to acknowledge the selfless help and generosity of the patients (and, in some cases, the relatives of the patients) whose tales I tell here—who, knowing (as they often did) that they themselves might not be able to be helped directly, yet permitted, even encouraged, me to write of their lives, in the hope that others might learn and understand, and, one day, perhaps be able to cure.” – Oliver Sacks show less

A typical selection of essays by Dr. Oliver Sacks, managing to be profoundly sad and profoundly inspiring simultaneously. If you happen to be unfamiliar with Sack’s work, he writes evocative descriptions of various neurological problems, often touched with wry humor and insight. In The Mind’s Eye he discusses various cases where neurological (rather than optical) problems affect vision. In one case, a patient has alexia, which progresses to agnosia; the subject first loses the ability to show more read (although, paradoxically, she can still write), then gradually loses the ability to recognize once-familiar objects. Her intelligence and memory are unaffected; she still knows what (for example) an apple is, she just can’t recognize one when she sees it. There’s no cure, but she develops some compensating abilities; always a talented musician she can no longer sight-read but can compose and transcribe music mentally (something she couldn’t do before).


Another patient, after a lifetime of lacking stereo vision (due to strabismus correction surgery that was delayed a little too long), more or less suddenly develops it after additional treatment. Her wonder at first seeing a snowstorm in depth makes me appreciate my own stereoscopic ability even more. (This chapter mentions my thesis advisor, John Cisne, who demonstrated that some of the elaborate illuminations in medieval manuscripts could be accomplished by “free-fused” stereoscopy. I used to be able to do free-fused stereoscopy but lost the ability after cataract surgery; can’t focus close enough anymore).


Several cases discuss visual imagery; do people “see” things in their minds, and if so do they use the same parts of the brain that process data coming from their eyes. Evidence is equivocal and mostly anecdotal but tantalizing; some total blind people still claim they can “see” mentally (including a blind Australian who had such a good mental image of his house roof that he was able to replace all his gutters unassisted. At night.) while others have no mental visual capability at all.


Another chapter gives a name to a defect I have myself (and I share with Dr. Sacks)– prosopagnosia, the inability to recognize faces. In both my case and Dr. Sacks, it’s fairly mild – Sacks notes it appears to be normally distributed, with some people with hyper abilities (able to recognize faces they saw for a few seconds years earlier) while other are totally deficient (unable to recognize their wives and children, or themselves in a mirror). In both our cases our facial recognition ability is dependent on context; we can recognize people in familiar situations but not in unfamiliar ones – i.e., classmates or coworkers in class or at work but not when encountered on the street or in a restaurant. Dr. Sacks seems to be somewhat more deficient than me; he was unable to recognize his personal assistant when he saw her in a doctor’s waiting room rather than at home. I’m not that bad, but I still have trouble. Interestingly, the problem seems to correlate with Asperger’s syndrome.


The final chapters recount Dr. Sack’s own visual changes after he had a retinal melanoma removed. After radiation and laser surgery he ended up with a “blind spot” in his right visual field that, eventually, his brain would “fill in”. At first it was only uniform fields – if he was looking at the sky the spot would turn a uniform blue. However, after a while the infilling would become more sophisticated. If he brought his hand into the area, it would first disappear as if it had been cut off at the wrist; but if he held it there for a while the brain would generate a “phantom hand” (especially if he did something like wiggling the fingers). The effect isn’t fast enough to be useful in everyday life; he still has to twist around to see somebody on his right.


Recommended – a very quick (afternoon) read. Well referenced to original literature; the only illustrations are Sacks’ own line drawings of what he saw during treatment for his melanoma. show less

More than just a collection of interesting neurological case studies (which are bewilderingly amazing in and of themselves, the extent to which our brains are capable of reconciling the stimuli we receive to certain imagery or experience or feeling, the ways it can be so easily manipulated and deceived, the delicacy of the brain with all its interacting components and also its elastic attempts to counteract any imbalances), I also liked how each case, from aphasia to stereoscopy to show more blindness, can be so easily interpreted as a metaphor (seeing but not recognising, loss of one aspect leading to new appreciation for the usual experienced from a different aspect, the importance of peripheral vision giving context to the central vision).

Recommended for fans of The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat and Sacks' personable writing style. show less