Look me in the eye- 43 to go

Another enjoyable read, this one was a memoir written by John Elder Robison a person with asperger's syndrome, a special form of autism that impairs the ability to interact with others normally

The book takes the reader through the life the author led as he dealt with this syndrome that, until he was fully grown for some time, nobody knew existed.

Living with an undiagnosed mental illness was difficult for the author, nobody else understood him, and he didn't really understand other people either, such was the nature of his affliction. Unlike many cases of people with asperger's syndrome, the author actively tried to fit in and develop relationships with others. These attempts were, more often than not, complete failures, but at least the attempts were there.

Despite the author's lack of social skill, which was improving, even if it wasn't on par with normal society, the author became quite famous. He had discovered in his youth that he had a savant-like ability to manipulate machines, especially where electronics were concerned. This talent was originally directed towards pranks and other childish fancies (that I found incredibly funny and ingenious, despite their childish nature ). However, as the author grew up his talents were dedicated to refining, creating, and repairing sound systems. His skill at creating these systems made his services very desirable in the music industry, eventually landing him a job with KISS, a band that was a worldwide sensation. The author was the designer of most of KISS's most memorable special effects (the burning guitar, for example).

However the author drifted away from the music industry and moved to being a designer of electronic toys, where he excelled once again. He rose through the ranks of the company he worked for, but then quit because working as an administrator didn't satisfy his creative urges, despite the good pay (I reference the concepts presented in Drive here, as this is a prime example)

His final profession was repairing high-end cars, he started his own business and did very well. His social skills had developed to the point that even though he wasn't exactly normal, he didn't stand out so much as a social misfit any longer.

The author reflected on his affliction after it became diagnosed for the first time. He speculates that aspergians ( the name he gives to people with asperger's) fall into a scale. There are people like him towards one end who struggle socially because their focus is more inward, but can still manage to cope in society, and these people are the ones who become savants. On the other end are those who become completely absorbed in their own world and never learn to socialize (the stereotypical aspergian).

This analysis stood out to me, as a person who frequently encounters difficulty in socializing, I am forced to consider if perhaps I fall on the aspergian scale towards the more outgoing end. I don't consider myself a savant, so I must be even further towards the right side of this scale than the author, but I can easily see myself on the scale. I have always had a hard time interacting with my peers, and I often prefer solitude over company. I have little control over my facial expressions, another symptom of asperger's, and I can't seem to fit in with the rest of society as easily as other people. Popular fads fly way over my head and are outdated long before I catch on, local slang terms baffle me, and I generally feel awkward in any social situation, even among friends and family sometimes.

Therefore if I were ever diagnosed with asperger's I would not be shocked in the least. However, I don't think that I am incapable of ever overcoming this, I have made many friends, and I continue to learn how to overcome my difficulties in interacting with others. Actually I do not believe that the realization that this condition might apply to me changes anything, whether or not I have aspergian characteristics doesn't change the fact that I am working to learn how to cope with them, and it certainly doesn't help or hinder me from doing so. It is ironic that I would make this observation that I may have a condition after I noticed and began to solve the symptoms, whereas most people operate in reverse.

This book provided an interesting topic to reflect on, and I am happy to have read it even if the reflection doesn't significantly alter my life.

Me Talk Pretty One Day-44 to go

I enjoyed reading this book, the writer is quite funny.

The book was a memoir of the writer's life, giving details on all the funny, and sometimes ridiculous, things that happened to him as a child.

This memoir was unlike any I have ever read, not in quality of writing (though it was stellar, make no mistake about that.), but in the purpose of it's composition. It wasn't some run of the mill success story, and it wasn't a tragic tale of the author rising to fame and then failing for some reason. It was simply a memoir writen by the author to tell the story of his life, and hopefully make the reader laugh while doing so.

The deeper meaning of this book may not be immediately apparent, it is such a comical book, and it isn't a story of someone who survived some sort of disaster (like the book "Into thin air") or someone dealing with an incurable disease (like in "Lucky Man," didn't blog on that one yet, but I'm getting there), but I think I can see what may be the underlying purpose of the book.

The author, throughout the book, tries and fails at many things, and overall seems like a talentless, largely unintelligent, social outcast who won't amount to anything. The lack of intellect is confirmed by an IQ test towards the end of the book, but then the test is explained to be an inacurate measurement, since it only tests logical thinking, which the author does not do much of.

So the image you get of the person the author is writing about is, all in all, a moron, but that "moron" is the author who is writing this quality (and hilarious) book you are reading!

So what constitutes intelligence? I consider myself a pretty smart guy, but I could never write a memoir of my life so far and make it as enjoyable as this. So am I actually less intelligent than this person who seems, in most cases, stupid?

The answer is no of course, but that answer doesn't solve the problem that created that question does it? So deeper thought is required.

The answer is revealed in something the author's boyfriend says (not word for word) "everyone thinks in different ways."

So while I excel in logical thinking, strategy, and simillar things (as well as writing fantasy, which doesn't really fit with the other things, but still...) the author excels in comedey and writing.

So we are both "smart." But my type of "smart" is different from the type of smartness the author clearly posseses.

I had always vaugely understood that some people who seemed stupid when directly compared to me in some things might very well be very talented in other areas, but I've never been presented with a solid example of that concept that could be related to me.

So this book was very entertaining, and it made me do some thinking, so I am happy to say that this book deserved it's spot on my 52 (er... 57) list.

Into Thin Air-45 to go

First, let me say that the 52 list has undergone drastic changes, it now has 56 books and not all the ones that were there before are there now. I will need to update the list on here eventually, but I can't do it this very instant so it will have to wait.

Now that I've covered that. I shall move on to the book

Into Thin Air was a firsthand account of what happened on Mount Everest in 1996, the year of the deadliest climbing season in the history of Everest, or at least Everest as we know it.

Written by Jon Krakauer, the book provides a detailed account of the expedition, as well as giving the history of other expeditions, most of them unsuccessful.

I found it incredible that, despite the vast experience of the Sherpas and expedition guide, and the extensive amount of equipment designed for high-altitude climbing, that Everest is still such a dangerous task

I also find it strange that people are seemingly compelled to undertake this seemingly suicidal task, whatever novelty they find at having climbed to the top of the world is lost on me, but evidently not on them. So kudos to you, Everest climbers, you have more guts than I will ever have, I wish you luck on your endeavor, even if I can not comprehend it.

Another thing that struck me as odd was the author's guilt at surviving. In the condition he was in there was no way he could have saved anybody who had died, yet he still feels guilty. Perhaps that's just my usual coldness speaking, but I don't see why he blames himself for the deaths of his comrades.

This story is tragic, but it is also a risk that every person who climbs Everest takes. It comes with the territory, if you climb Everest, there is a good chance something will go wrong and you will die, no matter what you do to reduce that chance. So I find the media's heavy involvement in the tragedy to be rather silly, they don't cover every successful expedition, but the one time something goes horribly wrong they swarm the mountain like ants on an anthill. That's the media for you, but it still seems silly.