My Stroke of Insight: A Brain Scientist’s Personal Journey by Jill Bolte Taylor
I’d heard about this book on the radio when it came out in 2006, but never got a chance to read it until I came across a cheap copy in a discount bin. (Winos have to make do with cheap wine, book-gluttons have to make do with cheap books.) How could any science fan resist such a compelling memoir? Neurologist suffers a stroke, recovers, and writes a book about what it’s like to have a stroke.
Maybe you think you already know what it means to have a stroke. I thought I did. I thought a stroke was one of those things where it either killed you or damaged you, and if it damaged you, it was pretty much permanent. I thought that all strokes were caused by blood being blocked from a certain part of the brain. I had no idea that blood inside the brain could cause as much or more damage as blood being blocked from the brain.
Any good memoir has to establish its author as a likeable, or at least interesting, person. How could a scientist who made up a jingle to convince people to donate their brains not be likeable and interesting? Taylor does describe her mental deterioration on the morning she had the stroke. Plenty of memoirs describe horrific things from the victim’s point of view. Unlike shark attacks or hypothermia, this is something that could easily happen to any one of us. So when Taylor described how calling the number on the telephone became an ordeal because of the failure of certain areas of the brain, I found it riveting not just because of the neurological aspects of it, but also because of the personal aspects of it.
Taylor spends a lot of time describing the differences between her left hemisphere and her right hemisphere. Because most of the damage was in her left hemisphere, she got to see a side of her brain that is usually subjugated by the analytical left side of the brain. Since I’m a very creative person, I always figured that I was more of a right-brained person, but when Taylor described not having linear thought, of having the internal verbal chatter silence, and of feeling at one with the universe, it made me realize that I, like the pre-stroke Taylor, live mostly in the left-hemisphere of my brain.
The problem I had with this book is a problem that will probably only be replicated in perhaps three or four other people. As Taylor described more and more the things she learned by having her left hemisphere silent (as the right hemisphere took over) she sounded less and less like a neurologist and more like a metaphysical/ spiritual person. She talked about feeling at one with the universe, about not sensing a separation between herself and from other people, and she also talked about sensing energies from people, about being able to heal people with her intent and her energy, and about not allowing her left hemisphere to play the same hurtful dialogs long past the time when the chemical signals of the original emotion have long since been expunged from the body. She talks about how it wasn’t until her left hemisphere became disabled by a stroke that she learned the joy of being instead of just doing.
The reason why I have such a specific problem with this is that not only are these the same things my mother has been telling me for years, but it’s the exact same language that my mother uses. Except my mother hasn’t had a stroke, she’s just been involved in a spiritual new-age journey with like minded “right hemisphere” brained people. To encounter these ideas and specific terminology in a book on neurology felt like an odd left turn, as if I were reading a book about the solar system and the author suddenly began discussing how the turns of the planets influenced human moods and society. I wasn’t sure if I should suddenly start believing some of the stuff my my mother believes in (listening to one’s mother is not an easy thing for a woman of any age to do) or if I should mentally disengage from this book because Taylor had tread into fruits-and-nuts territory.
This book isn’t long, and it could have been maybe 10% shorter, because some of the chapters at the end felt redundant. I think many people would find them spiritually uplifting, but I didn’t approach this book expecting spiritual enlightenment, I just wanted to learn more about strokes. Still, it’s a fascinating read, and while the writing is not consistent, it offers valuable information.
I recommend this for anyone who has had a stroke, anyone who knows someone who has had a stroke, and people who like to be prepared for any emergency. I recommend it for people who are interested in neurology, and people who are interested in metaphysics and spirituality.
