Thoughts on Insomniac City: New York, Oliver, and Me by Bill Hayes

“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.