The Diving Bell and the Butterfly is an undeniably compelling account of Jean-Dominique Bauby’s life before and after he was stricken with “Locked-in Syndrome” as the result of a severe stroke at age 43. Bauby takes us through this journey by juxtapositioning past and present, throughout these pages. He also uses juxtaposition to vacillate between present day life in “The Diving Bell”, (his body) with “The Butterfly” (not so much his mind, as perhaps—his imagination).
Particularly noteworthy is the way and the means that this book was written and published. Bauby uses the only part left of his body that he can control—his left eye—to convey his own proprietary code to others in a mind-numbingly painstaking process. One can argue whether this work is: a labor of love; a redefining of the word ‘passion’ for a person’s art form of choice (Bauby was the Executive Editor for Elle magazine); or about a human being treading on the fringes of that fine line between the maniacal and genius, confronting his cognitive ghosts, and indexes of mal-adjustments. Whatever the reader’s interpretation, Bauby weaves this tapestry using the thread of a cathartic experience. His desire—or need—for honest disclosure does not seem as much for moral self-redemption. Rather, he must live with himself while confined to his ‘Diving Bell’. Where isolation may have once been a choice, he no longer has that luxury.
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly’s strong points outweigh any weak points. The dense prose is peppered with difficult, sub-references to a ‘flowing, easy read’, such as his exemplary vocabulary; more than a few cultural barriers (many references to all things Francaise) [1]; and of course both the subject matter (the ultimate isolation), and the setting (Room 119, at Berck Naval Hospital in Paris) is fraught with a dark, heavy moroseness. However, these speed bumps are more than offset by his beautiful writing style, the reader’s constant awareness of how this book was written, and by his personal policy for complete disclosure, which appeals to most—if not all, spectrums of readers.
Whether one lands in the “pros” (must read) team, or the “cons” team, undoubtedly what this story will do for the reader—young or old, is to inspire an attitude of gratitude. At the very least, Bauby sews the seeds that yield a harvest of a profound, new perspective on life. Most people can comprehend the moral of the multitude of anecdotes and clichés in existence, such as, “I had the blues because I had no shoes—until upon the street I saw a man with no feet”. This powerful story takes that consciousness to another level, one-hundred fold, and on steroids. Perhaps not as inspirational and uplifting as other reviews boast, “Buy, and read…” this beautifully written, culturally rich, compelling and thought provoking book. This one will stay with the reader for a lifetime, or years to come.
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[1] The first examples of a concentration of these terms begin with the chapter Cinecittà, page 30, though the entire book, there are examples however, in each chapter.
