After three series focusing on a central author, Short Stop is taking a bit of a turn for the next run. Sometime last year, I found a copy of “The Vintage Book of Amnesia” that was compiled and edited by Jonathan Lethem. The theme is simple. He looks at authors throughout time and explores how they approach the subject of memory. Whereas previous series focused on exploring a writer finding their voice, I thought that it would be interesting to try and find something more thematic across the centuries. It’s a lengthy ordeal and one that will probably have more highs and lows than ever before. The hope though is finding a few diamonds in the rough that are worth committing to memory.
When approaching this entry, I found myself recalling a Ted Talk that I watched years ago now. A neuroscientist was discussing her reaction to having an aneurysm. Because of her qualifications, she was able to engage with it on a more personal level and try to understand what was going on. Of course, the idea of the event was horrifying. Nobody wants to feel their brain retaliate against the body. However, because of her presentation, there was something comical about hearing a scientist geek out over the phenomenon. It was a fascinating and rare first person look given relieving benefit because of her survival. It’s likely that the story would appear tragic had she died. Then again, nobody would know what her personal experience with an aneurysm would’ve actually been like.
I’m not confident that Lawrence Shainberg has seen this Ted Talk, but I’m sure he’d get a kick out of it. Diving into “Memories of Amnesia,” I found myself perking up at the chance to read a structurally different story from what came before. Whereas we’ve dealt with things usually more metaphysical, here was an author willing to play with a context that is all too real. At some point, most people will have a physical ailment that requires them to have surgery. There is a chance that they’ll be under the knife and have to put their trust in a qualified professional’s hands. The risk comes with potential freedom from the ailment. In the case of neurological problems, it would make sense to lobotomize it as much as possible.
Something that should be noted is that while Shainberg isn’t a surgeon, he has written a non-fiction book called “Brain Surgeon: An Intimate View of the World.” While I am unfamiliar with the text, I can imagine that his personal experience with the medical community made him more qualified to write this story and provide a metafiction spin on something that might otherwise seem stuffy with confusing jargon. When preparing for the story, he reportedly visited medical wards for patients suffering from mental ailments and learned specifics about how they were treated. It should be noted that, like most of Lethem’s choices here, “Memories of Amnesia” is a small chapter in a larger text. However, because of how the chapter is structured, I can fully understand its larger relationship to the theme of memory loss without having to wonder why anything matters.
This is because the excerpt has a three-act structure unto itself. I’m willing to bet this is an introductory chapter because of how it establishes character and gives a strong sense of what this world will become. As things continue, information is given that allows the reader to get a greater sense of purpose before ending with a haunting conclusion that may sound like a great cliffhanger for a larger text but could also just be a final unity of themes. Compared to stories like “Dream Science” or “Other People,” I don’t feel frustrated by tangents. I’m not left wondering who anybody within these pages is. Everything serves a purpose, and I think Shainberg knows how to condense everything to its utmost significance.
An amusing detail is that the author chooses to begin the story not with any in media res action, but instead a lengthy scholarly discussion on brain damage. This orients the reader to think of this story less as a short story and more of a case study in neuroscience. When I was reading the early pages, I was excited at the idea that this was going to be a stylistically realistic tale of brain surgery. As every incision is made, Shainberg would provide enough of an entertaining twist to engross. Much like Bill Nye on a more mundane level, I respect those who can create an interest in science through creative means, and “Memories of Amnesia” begins likewise. Maybe the stuffy nature might turn some off, but it only created this curiosity in myself to figure out just what was going on.
Because of the discussion of brain damage, I am more willing to believe that The Surgeon is an expert. I find myself willing to put my trust in his hands. I do not know much about him. At best, I am given secondhand testimony that he is one of the best surgeons in his field. That sounds great. Without fact checking everything so far in the story, I’m willing to believe that he won’t lead me astray.
The misdirection also makes the reader assume that the conflict will center around Lucinda Roosevelt, the patient in question. She has mental regression and suffers from occasional seizures. There’s a familiarity between The Surgeon and Lucinda that causes one to think that this is an ongoing problem that they’ve been trying to solve. By the nature of how a story works, the reader also wants to believe that some miracle will happen in the next dozen pages. Something will “fix” Lucinda and suddenly the world is better. The only thing fighting against this is its placement in Lethem’s anthology. Even the title “Memories of Amnesia” is ambiguous to suggest that while Lucinda can’t recall her past, she will be cured enough to process her future.
From here, it evolves into the most addictive type of prose an author could use. For as cut and dry as the concepts explored on these pages can be, Shainberg does an amazing job of slowly removing our confidence. Certain details reassure the reader that The Surgeon knows what he’s doing. He discusses a modesty cloth so that he doesn’t have to apply the emotion of the patient while operating on her brain. Because of her condition, Lucinda isn’t allowed to be asleep. Any chance of being swayed by a facial reaction is against the rules. Even as he applies the incision in detail, there is trust in what he’s doing.
However, something begins to change. Given that The Surgeon began by discussing brain damage, the reader is more likely to assume that he’s talking about Lucinda. Everyone agrees that she is mentally impaired, so it isn’t strange to intersplice action with description of something that sounds like her condition. However, as everything develops, Shainberg cleverly makes the language feel doubtful. The Surgeon slips up here or there. There’s even admittance of him possibly suffering from his mental faculties. Suddenly a simple surgery becomes the story of whether these two individuals will make it to the final page.
From Lucinda’s standpoint, this is a horror story. She is in the hands of The Surgeon and trusts that she will be cured. However, doubt sets in for the reader. Maybe she’s cognitively impaired because The Surgeon has failed. Even if The Surgeon claims that this incident is his first experience with brain damage and believes it, the reader can assume this is one of the first signs of amnesia. He thinks it’s his first because he can’t recall the previous one/s. What else about his operative skills has been slipping? I should note that as someone inexperienced in neuroscience, I cannot speak to whether the latter pages are riddled with The Surgeon making mistakes. It’s a clever way the text mixes “facts” and confidence with doubt. At no point do I doubt that The Surgeon believes he’s a professional who knows what he’s doing. Shainberg’s prose manages to hide so many small mistakes that reflect the ways that a brain can fail the body, and it feels especially true to Lucinda. Not only is her brain failing, but odds are that her “cure” will as well.
What makes this brilliant is that one can easily read The Surgeon’s perspective as a dark comedy. For as haunting as the potential loss of life can be, there is something humorous about watching a man suffer from incompetence. It’s the prototype for American humor going back over a century. The most evident is when he switches Lucinda’s name to Sarah. At another point that is left unaddressed, he changes the name of his assistant. It’s a moment that he brushes off. He’s also occasionally sidetracked by recalling neurological issues as it relates to literature like William Faulkner and “Don Quixote.” For as interesting as it is to the reader, the reality is that The Surgeon should probably be more engaged with the work at hand.
There are also comedic exchanges, such as when a nurse named Clara comes in to discuss what type of candy she likes. The exchange makes no sense, but it creates this acceptance that The Surgeon is becoming removed from the task at hand. As mentioned, I can’t be sure whether everything else hides any mistakes, but I’m sure it does. For as much as his job has grave consequences, it’s easy to see this as a comedic exploration of a real experience. There’s something both heroic and stupid about him choosing to continue forward with the surgery even as his body fails him. There’s no search for another surgeon. It’s just him overcoming any doubt that he’s failing. The tension is thrilling and makes the reader want to know what happens next.
By the end, Shainberg predictably finds things at a final crossroads. The surgery appears to be a success. However, anyone who has recovered will know, it’s about the days and weeks moving forward when the real change is seen. For all the reader knows, this was the catalyst that triggers the end. Maybe it will be disastrous. There’s enough confusion by The Surgeon as to which it will be because, as one can guess, he is sharing in Lucinda’s physical ailments. His cognitive skills have declined. For all the reader knows, this is the moment he loses his license. Without reading Shainberg’s full text, I’m just going to assume a lawsuit is imminent.
Of everything I’ve read so far, this is my favorite story. Lethem’s selections have existed within a similar mysterious exploration of the mind with differing results. While I accept that there are interesting ways to do that, I am hoping to see more diversity in the pages ahead. In this case, we get a fascinating mix of scientific lecture with horror and dark comedy. The results are thrilling and explore memory loss in a fundamental way that many experience but never think of. If nothing else, this is the one that makes me most want to pour over the previous pages and determine what else I was missing. It’s a straightforward story, but also one that probably has more haunting nuances than I caught. This is essentially what I hope this anthology will be. If not, I’m still grateful that Lethem was keen enough to include it here. Such a smart decision.
Coming Up Next: Robert Sheckley’s “Warm”
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