Over the long weekend I took Invisible: A Memoir by Hugues De Montalembert to breakfast. It was one of those books that crossed my desk with a press release that I took home thinking unenthusiastically, "yeh, maybe one rainy day"....
I've actually read a lot about "grief memoirs" lately and I know they are quite the literary trend. While this is (eventually) quiet an uplifting tale, like all grief memoirs you have to go through some heavy duty, raw emotional pain first. Of course nobody dies in this book (so I'm not technically sure if it still belongs in that category) but it's definitely a pain memoir at least.
Anyway I digress.... This post is going to end up longer than the book (it's pretty tiny). It's the true story of French artist Hugues De Montalembert, who returned to his New York apartment one night and was confronted by two burglars. While trying to defend himself against them they doused him in the face with paint thinner. By morning he has lost his vision.
After many months of painful recovery, his eye lids were sewn together. And after refusing to visits from loved ones and ignoring doctors instructions about how soon to start rehabilitation he began, in earnest, to re-learn everything he knews about communication, movement and and his spiritual self. As a super empathiser (I just learnt that term in Psychologies this month and have decided to apply it liberally in every situation possible) I spent a lot of time having to close my eyes in reaction to the shock and pain.
Of course it's particularly sad because, as an artist, he really did spend his life delighting in the visual and his career was dedicated to creating beautiful images. He wrote the book by hand on a large board with a pen and ruler that he would move down to guide himself line-by-line. He was alerted one day by a friend he had been writing for hours and the pen had run out of ink... Yeh, there's reasons to be sad on every page but there's also a lot of hope. He's a strong and disciplined man that doesn't want (to use a Liz Lemonism) to hear your "cancer voice" ie that whiny, sympathetic tone people put on in reaction to bad news.
He now spends a lot of his time traveling and the most interesting part of the book is his description of the powerfully strong images his brain creates from his travels. After darkness your mind still creates a rich, visual life. Fascinating.
(One of his artist friends fashioned him these futuristic, protective glasses to protect his fragile eye sockets.)