There is a definite, deliberate method to the organization of The Man with a Shattered World. I think that, much like Oliver Sacks, Luria wrote this book in the same order in which he learned about and familiarized himself with this particular case. It begins with Zasetsky’s past and then there is a description of the brain and what damage was made by the bullet. After this description there are many of Zasetsky’s journal entries which include his own journey and struggle with aphasia. Luria then makes sure the reader understands the actual severity of this case in the chapter titled “Grammatical Constructions: The Third Digression.” I found this chapter to be a sort of realization; a breaking down of Zasetsky’s living hell. The reader is put through these journal entries which can begin to take a toll on him/her. There is a lot of repetition and at times it seems that Zasetsky will regain language, but never does. Luria puts the reader through the same frustration that Zasetsky went through and yet the reader is only able to be objective until “Grammatical Constructions” where he/she can become empathetic. Luria states that “intricate turns of speech that are so routine to us that we fail to notice their complexity are, in fact, codes that have taken centuries to develop. We readily employ them, because we have mastered linguistic patterns—our most basic means of communication” (126-127). The fact is that Zasetsky lost his ability to communicate, something that seems innate to humans. Luria makes a point to give the reader Zasetsky’s background in order to make it clear that Zasetsky was an intelligent, curious man before the accident and as Katie states in her comment, so much of his identity was lost when he lost his mode of communication. It is as though with this loss of identity, Zasetsky also lost touch with humanity.
What interests me is that Zasetsky knows words and can sense a certain familiarity in words, but “no longer had the capacity for such an instantaneous grasp of intricate patterns (whether spatial of linguistic relationships)” (128). He could not understand the concept of phrases, but at some points he could pick words out in a fragmented sort of way. Another question that is raised in this book is: why write? Why try everyday to remember and to learn if you have had an irreversible brain injury? I believe that although Zasetsky lost his ability to understand language and communicate with other, he still had something that is undeniably human. This something was his will to reconnect with humanity through language.
The fragmentation of Zasetsky's thoughts interested me as well. While reading The Man with a Shattered World, I realized that the structure of the book itself seemed to lessen the symptoms of Zasetsky. As Luria moves through the narrative in a symptom-by-symptom manner, one gets the feeling that Zasetsky experienced these symptoms, like his forgetfulness, his "half-vision," and his spacial constrictions, at different times. As the book moves on, the reader gets the extreme details of Zasetsky's reading and writing perception problems, but loses the other aspects of Zasetsky's impairment. Thus the most interesting point in the book to me, the picture which Zasetsky drew conveying his vision, was lost as the book went on. Ultimately, I was left with the sense that of the numerous symptoms Zasetsky suffered from, he only suffered from them at separate points in time, and not always at the same time which is his true situation. Once again we are dealing with a situation in which the reader cannot come close to imagining these symptoms, but as Zasetsky himself says, "experience them for themselves."
ReplyDeleteI'm posting this for Rebecca - she was having trouble with the blog:
ReplyDeleteReading Luria's narration of the whole journey is one thing, but reading about it in Zasetsky's own words is another. I was very moved by the journal entries; particularly by those parts that are repeated. The almost childlike repetition adds a whole new element to it. Writers with healthy brains make a point and move on, yet Zasetsky cannot help but repeat himself, which gives the reader an unintentional window into his illness. Not only is Zasetsky providing his own deliberate narrative, he is unintentionally including another, almost more poignant perspective: that of his injured brain. The illness itself is what is affecting what Zasetsky ultimately writes, so it is almost like there is another author in his head, bringing him back to topics he's already covered and troubles he's already described.
On the topic of language, it is clear that all of his language has not been lost--he retains the ability to write some words automatically and has a grasp on the alphabet, among other things. What I thought was the most devastating to his communication skills was his wavering memory. It's his inability to remember letters that keeps him from reading, and the loss of words that prevents him from carrying on normal conversation. There is a distinction that needs to be made there, though the two are very much intertwined.