“O: ‘The most we can do is to write
– intelligently, creatively, critically, evocatively- about what it is like
living in the world at this time”
How
will you react if someone looks dead straight in your eyes, and tells you in a
firm voice that “At this moment, you are the most important person in the
world.”
A sense of formidable assurance will hit you
at the sweet spot of your heart; the much-wanted comfort in that firm voice
will give you a sense of relief that no matter what, you are special and your
presence does make a significance impact on someone’s life.
This
is one of the underlying scenarios, which forms the crux of Insomniac City: New York, Oliver, and Me
written by Bill Hayes.
Set
in the cosmopolitan jungle of New York, we do not read about the New York,
which might be on the verge of an invasion from aliens. We do not read about
the magnificence of Stark Tower complex located in midtown Manhattan. We do not
read about the carnage that the several members of Avengers have brought in on
the city. We do not see the New York, which Travis Bickle from Taxi Driver made
us see through his eyes. Rather, we visualize a closer reflection of life in
New York.
As
the title suggest, the city never sleeps, there are always curious souls
wandering aimlessly around subways, parks, on the streets and one such
insomniac soul is Bill Hayes who, in his late forties makes a life changing
decision and moves into the city of New York. Early in the book, he throws a
familiar scientific term by the name of Agrypnia
Excitata, a medical situation characterized by persistent Insomnia, over
activity, mental confusion with dream enactment. He tells us that if we were to
diagnose New York, it would surely be going through this medical condition,
which he himself confirms to be going through mildly.
Spring Shadows, Photo by Bill Hayes |
The
book starts with Bill narrating a devastating personal loss, the irony of which
will make you wonder of how unkind being an insomniac can be. “Suffering a
devastating loss is like suffering a brain injury, you walk around like a
zombie, you can’t think straight, you feel drugged,” someone tells Bills, to
which he thinks, “Sometimes you are drugged” it’s such a minor exchange of
words filled with a sense of consolation which are so pure and genuine in their
nature but at the same time, anecdotes like these is what made me think more
about my own insomnia and the moments of personal loss. Bill meets many
interesting people, who share some interesting aspects of their life, like
using the term “disappear” in place of death, it made me wonder about the
analogy of terms we use, to explain about the death of loved ones, surely it
does represent a deeper connotation of our association with the person on a
very personal level, they leave us physically but with a plethora of memories
and moments to look after. Bill moves on in his life and discovers something on
his own after his countless isolated nights “A thousand days is a thousand
nights is a thousand chances to dream about him” and recalls an out of the ordinary aspect
from the Greeks; The god of sleep (Hypnos) has an identical twin, Thanatos, the
god of death.
Then
what starts as a formal correspondence through letters between Bill Hayes and Dr.
Oliver Sacks over the former’s book The
Anatomist organically grows into something excessively special. It was the zest
and the natural curiosity of discovering novelistic persona that shapes the
bond of mutual admiration between the two. Dr. Oliver Sacks’ ability to look through
Bill’s photographs from an altogether perspective, like comparing bare tree
limbs to bundle of neurons in a closed system. Bill decides that he needs to
get a fresh start, gets a one-way ticket, and like millions before and after
him comes to New York, not specifically in pursuit of anything, but just to
celebrate life the way he wants it to be. Insomniac City is Bill Hayes love letter to
two of the most important companions in his life, New York and Oliver Sacks.
At Home, Photo by Bill Hayes |
Bill Hayes explores New York and simultaneously
his life. The unplanned encounter with strangers in the streets of New York
yields him so many stories to remember. The weather of New York in which the
multi color template of clouds play an important aspect throughout the book,
the iconic Empire state building, the subways, dirty streets, cold nights, and
taxicabs stuck in traffic, they all play a major role in Bill’s life, since he
gradually transforms into a New Yorker, and accepts the city with all its
detriments. Random stranger writing a love poem for Bill and coincidently
meeting the same person two years later, this time the poem is about the sky
under the stars. Preferring to stand rather than sit on a subway, never dozing off,
never reading, as doing any of those things might make him miss a surprising
site. There are many more such stories that Bill share with us. He deeply
embraces New York and its people, and lives in optimism that city will repay
him in some form or another, and eventually it does. He makes us see the city
through his lenses (quite literally, since he captures many photographs). He
captures moments of human love, people, strangers, lovers, acquaintances quite
artistically without dramatizing the moment. Bill Hayes sees, values,
experiences, untangles the simple yet the delicate complex nature of human
emotions in New York. It is the
wonderfully expressed writing that one does not get a sense of time and space
in accordance with the book, the random people coming into the life of Bill and
leaving with an impact and a certain memoir of their own to share in future.
The illustration of human emotions through photographs gives us a glimpse of
how he intends to celebrate life in New York, both the photographs and the
anecdotes of New York runs in a parallel narrative style of storytelling.
Lovers on the Grass, Photo by Bill Hayes |
"It requires a certain kind of unconditional love-to-love
living here. But New York repays you in time in memorable encounters, at the
very least. Just remember: ask first, don't grab, be fair, say please and thank
you- even if you don't get something back right away. You will.”
Dr.
Oliver Sacks (O), the genius neurologist, writer, professor forms the
significant draw in the book. The way Bill portrays him through his personal
journal entries (idea of which was suggested to Bill by Dr Sacks himself that
he must keep a journal) gives us a subtle hint of the kind of relation both of
them shared. O didn’t know what or who the phenomenon known as Michael Jackson
was, he had no attentiveness of the contemporary pop music, he didn’t owned any
computer, didn’t use email or text, rather favored using his fountain pen. He
spend almost three decades in celibacy, spending majority of his time in work,
reading, writing, unlocking the mysterious mechanism around the captivating
aspects of Neurobiology. He works on the principle of not fearing death as much
as wasting life. For O, writing is more important than pain. He redefines
intimacy in such an extraordinary manner that you cannot help but get amused by
his notion of intimacy, love and romance. He wears swimming goggles while
opening the bottle of champagne because, first he has never done that himself
and second “just in case”.
“I
just want to enjoy your nextness and nearness,” says O.
He
puts his ear to my chest, listens to my heart, and counts the beats.
“Sixty-two,”
He says with a satisfied smile, and I can’t imagine anything more intimate.
The
conversations between O and Bill appear so simple, yet it is their normal
routinely conversations that sparks the inquisitiveness to know more about
them, their world, the way they visualize the importance of the clouds in the
evenings, they way they tend to look from a scientific perspective to describe
normal human activities. The way O
suddenly mumbles “Wouldn’t it be nice if we could dream together?” The conversations at the opium den, where O
gets stoned and exhibit his vast neuroscience knowledge and enjoys the coming
out of the regular boredom, and discussing the thin difference between happiness
and pleasure. The difference in both of their personalities can summed into a
minor conversation where Bill point out that he has seen fireflies, to which O
responds that swallowing more than three of those would result in death due to
luciferase. Their relation is an ideal paradigm of the perfect balance
between Science and Literature. Bill’s words and feelings are the poetry
whereas O is the scientific instrumentalist of those words and feelings.
Throughout
the deeply personal conversations, Bill Hayes gives us an unparalleled access to
their love, to their world, and in a way tells us about the restrictions of
human endeavors brought upon by time, space and medium needs to be respected. The
acceptance of death at some point in life, holding onto grief, and then going on
to celebrate death, and much more importantly celebrate “Life” is what makes
this book extremely memorable and a delightful read. Perhaps I am not able to
precisely explain what made reading this book a charming experience for me, but
the writing is so personal and intimate, that you appreciate the beauty of it.
If you want to celebrate life in ordinary moments or want to connect yourself
again to the times we live, then Insomniac City awaits your attention. Bill Hayes awaits your attention.
nice blog...getting professional....hmmm..
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