Remember when I did the rave film review of THE DIVING BELL AND THE BUTTERFLY {here?} Well, husband bought me the book that inspired the screenplay. I started it three months ago, then promptly misplaced it in a suitcase for two months. I recently unearthed it, and now I'm back to cherishing it. It's a gentle read, with most chapters being two page vignettes. I'm in awe that every painstaking word was constructed via his only means of communication; the blinking of his left eye. If he can wright a book through such utterly desperate means, what can you and I achieve with our full faculties? This book humbles me, and inspires.
The following excerpt relates to the vivid, imaginary feasts Bauby creates in his mind, as he can no longer eat for himself.
"Now I cultivate the art of simmering memories. You can sit down to a meal at any hour, with no fuss or ceremony. If it's a restaurant, no need to call ahead. If I do the cooking, it is always a success. The boeuf bourguignon is tender, the boeuf en gelee translucent, the apricot pie possesses just the requisite tartness. Depending on my mood, I treat myself to a dozen snails, a plate of Alsatian sausage with sauerkraut, and a bottle of Gewurztraminer; or else I savor a simple soft boiled egg with fingers of toast and lightly salted butter. What a banquet! The yolk flows warmly over my palate and down my throat. And indigestion is never a problem."
