The Diving Bell and the Butterfly: A Memoir of Life in Death

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly: A Memoir of Life in Death Review

Jean-Dominique Bauby's The Diving Bell and the Butterfly is perhaps one of the most unique memoirs ever written. After suffering a massive stroke, Bauby was left with locked-in syndrome, losing control of all faculties save for his left eye. Utilizing a revised French alphabet, Bauby and his transcriber literally composed the book one letter at a time. While this rare perspective will spark many readers' curiosity, the work itself has far more to offer than simply a unique point of view. Certainly, those who are looking for an analytical articulation of what is like to be trapped inside one's mind will be disappointed; however, the vast majority of readers will no doubt find some of the most poignant, substantial literature ever squeezed into a mere 130 pages.
Before I go off on a tangent regarding the book's literary merit, I should enumerate some its flaws, primarily the nebulous narrative. While the descriptive quality is impeccable throughout the memoir, much of the account is haphazard; there seems to be a serious lack of cohesion. Many of the chapters blend together, or worse, are memorable not for their content as much as their composition. At times, Buaby tends to rely upon his condition too heavily in order to bridge the gap between chapters containing meaningful plot or introspection. While these scenes are incredibly well written, they add very little to the key story arcs or general progression of the narrative. For example, there is a short chapter relating to his bath regimen. Although his recounting is creative and well articulated, it does very little to advance the book's substance; in the end, chapters such as these seem rather trifle.
That being said, the composition in and of itself makes up for any holistic inconsistencies. Every word, every sentence, every literary device, is so expertly crafted. At one point, he describes himself as "the greatest director of all time", but in truth, he is perhaps the most skilled wordsmith of all time. Due to the circumstances, Bauby would naturally attempt to eliminate excess fluff, but not only has he succeeded in consolidating his thoughts, he has composed them with such perfection, that there were times when I would reread sentences simply to re-assimilate his specific amalgamation of words in forming a thought. One of my favorite examples of his stylistic pathos persists in his presentation of the dichotomy between the stagnant, restrictive "diving bell" he is trapped within and the dynamic, butterfly-esque activity of his mind:
"Far from such din, when blessed silence returns, I can listen to the butterflies that flutter inside my head. To hear them, one must be calm and pay close attention, for their wing beats are barely audible. Loud breathing is enough to drown them out. This is astonishing: my hearing does not improve, yet I hear them better and better. I must have butterfly hearing." (Page 97)
Perhaps I am deriving significance from what others consider very run of the mill writing, but nevertheless, I find this passage to typify the phrase "eloquent in its brevity". He is capable of articulating so much in so few sentences. Throughout the memoir there are passages such as these that serve to plant a seed of thought that festers, yet seems to leave the reader only asymptotically close to any semblance of conclusion.
In the end, Bauby's memoir will appeal to any reader ready to grapple with many of life's most elusive questions. Although he strikes a balance between cynical humor and a somber tone, the tale is inherently tragic. On the whole, Bauby's circumstances are enough to warrant the small investment of time it takes to tackle this short book; however, I would expect most readers would do everything possible to linger for longer behind the left eye of Jean-Dominique Bauby, for his observations are nothing short of captivating.

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly: A Memoir of Life in Death Feature

• ISBN13: 9780375701214
• Condition: New
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The Diving Bell and the Butterfly: A Memoir of Life in Death Overview

In 1995, Jean-Dominique Bauby was the editor-in-chief of French Elle, the father of two young childen, a 44-year-old man known and loved for his wit, his style, and his impassioned approach to life. By the end of the year he was also the victim of a rare kind of stroke to the brainstem. After 20 days in a coma, Bauby awoke into a body which had all but stopped working: only his left eye functioned, allowing him to see and, by blinking it, to make clear that his mind was unimpaired. Almost miraculously, he was soon able to express himself in the richest detail: dictating a word at a time, blinking to select each letter as the alphabet was recited to him slowly, over and over again. In the same way, he was able eventually to compose this extraordinary book.

By turns wistful, mischievous, angry, and witty, Bauby bears witness to his determination to live as fully in his mind as he had been able to do in his body. He explains the joy, and deep sadness, of seeing his children and of hearing his aged father's voice on the phone. In magical sequences, he imagines traveling to other places and times and of lying next to the woman he loves. Fed only intravenously, he imagines preparing and tasting the full flavor of delectable dishes. Again and again he returns to an "inexhaustible reservoir of sensations," keeping in touch with himself and the life around him.

Jean-Dominique Bauby died two days after the French publication of The Diving Bell and the Butterfly.

This book is a lasting testament to his life.

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly: A Memoir of Life in Death Specifications

We've all got our idiosyncrasies when it comes to writing--a special chair we have to sit in, a certain kind of yellow paper we absolutely must use. To create this tremendously affecting memoir, Jean-Dominique Bauby used the only tool available to him--his left eye--with which he blinked out its short chapters, letter by letter. Two years ago, Bauby, then the 43-year-old editor-in-chief of Elle France, suffered a rare stroke to the brain stem; only his left eye and brain escaped damage. Rather than accept his "locked in" situation as a kind of death, Bauby ignited a fire of the imagination under himself and lived his last days--he died two days after the French publication of this slim volume--spiritually unfettered. In these pages Bauby journeys to exotic places he has and has not been, serving himself delectable gourmet meals along the way (surprise: everything's ripe and nothing burns). In the simplest of terms he describes how it feels to see reflected in a window "the head of a man who seemed to have emerged from a vat of formaldehyde."

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