JOLLY DAYS

Oliver Sacks, 2

Oliver Sacks is marching through the elements as I read his book, Uncle Tungsten. Sacks' life as a child was immersed in the world of chemicals. He was born to the manor of science — many of his relatives were accomplished in the sciences; an ideal context for a child with great intelligence and curiosity about the physical world. His emotional life follows along in the tale, like a puppy following its child master.

Oliver Sacks was beaten at school (which seems an English tradition), from below and above as it were, assaulted by headmaster and older students, resulting in trauma, and as he terms it, becoming somewhat disturbed. Sacks says,

“My friend Eric Korn, who had known me [earlier]…felt that something had happened to me. I had been aggressive and normal, he said, before the war, would pick fights, stand up for myself, speak my mind; where now I seemed intimated, timid did not start fights or conversations, withdrew, kept my distance.”

Sacks, with the perspective of years of therapy, at advanced age, says without remark that he stopped picking fights — he stopped being aggressive “and normal”. A curious value system. Although he doesn't explicitly say it, it sure sounded as though his older brother who developed schizophrenia had at least been partially pushed over the edge by a similar brutality.

In this intermittent tale of emotional development, punctuated with long stretches of his fascination with chemistry, Sacks never blames his parents, but rather, as a reaction formation I suppose, sees them as busy and wanting the best for him. At the same time, he admits he was angry with them — but never spoke of it to them. He never discusses this crucial elision — in many ways a central presence in the book of his life.

Sacks dedicated the book to Roald Hoffmann, a Nobel prize winning chemist who befriended him as he wrote the book. At learner.org, Hoffman hosts educational podcasts. He is a shy fellow himself, but radiates warmth. Sacks never notes that his friendship with Hoffmann has the added continuity: Hoffman's greatest fascination is with the structure of the elements; yet Sacks never associates this with his mother, whom he describes as being fascinated with the structure of living things. She taught anatomy and was a surgeon.

The guy is a mystery to himself and to the reader. Sacks' public persona, a man with a shy manner, little warmth, and an aggressive curiosity, communicates the same individual presented in the book. He is consistent and admirable, if lacking any semblance of circumspection.