The problem of consciousness may just be a semantic one. The brain absorbs a sea of sensory input, the tiniest fraction of which reaches the shore of our awareness. We pay attention to what is most novel, most necessary at the time. At its most reductive, the word consciousness refers to the synchronized firing of neurons across multiple areas of the brain, the mental experience of attending.But should consciousness be summed up simply by its subsconscious mechanism? I would prefer a more imaginative answer.After his father undergoes brain surgery and slips into a coma, Howard Akler begins to reflect on the complicated texture of consciousness. During the long months that follow, Akler confronts the unknowable nature of another person’s life, as well as the struggles within his own unpredictable mind. With echoes of Paul Auster’s The Invention of Solitude and Philip Roth’s Patrimony, Men of Action treads the line between memoir and meditation, and is at once elegiac, spare and profoundly intimate.
“Consciousness . . . is the story our brain tells us.”
Howard Akler’s brief memoir opens with a poignant scene of him shaving his comatose father, Saul, in hospital. Saul had worked as a chartered accountant until he was 79 and was more or less forced into retirement by partners concerned about the paperwork piling up on his desk, the slippage in a person known for his reliability. At home full-time, this man who had worked “nine to five, five days a week, fifty-two weeks a year (minus two for vacation) for fifty-seven years”--this “proud professional” driven by a strong need for routine--was now staying in his pyjamas all day. Howard’s mother, Nonni, began to provide daily reports to her children. Saul never left the house, she said, just stared off into space. Then the falling began: once a month for six months. A family meeting was scheduled (Nonni knew she could no longer care for her husband), but the meeting was suddenly off: Saul had fallen again, twice in one day. 911 had been called. Two tumours were found: meningiomas—one on the right side of his brain and one in his spinal canal.
Meningiomas are seldom cancerous, but this does not mean excising them proceeds uneventfully. There can be bleeding, swelling, infection, seizures, and loss of function. Pre-existing health conditions further complicate things. Saul experienced many difficulties, and, through them all, his son “attended”--was present, not merely in body. Attending, according to essayist Sven Birkerts, is an action of the spirit.
Akler’s memoir is certainly an account of his father’s difficulties after the surgery (to address the meningioma in the brain) until the time of his death. However, it is also a character study of Saul, and a meditation on consciousness itself. Akler writes with great restraint. “I appreciate understatement in prose . . . a telling tension between what is said and what is unsaid.” He likes “generous white space, a tidy page,” he says. I liked it, too. There are 87 chapters —or meditations, if you like—in this slim volume of only 119 pages. Most sections are only two paragraphs long. Yet there are riches here and space to contemplate them.
The author has clearly done a lot of reading in neuroscience, and he shares some of his findings with the reader. Interestingly, he has a body of his own unusual experiences with “altered” consciousness to reflect on as well. As an adult, he experienced seizures—one episode in 2002 (followed by a brief language deficit) and a second pair seven years later in which he provided answers to doctors that were two decades out of date. He was “awake but not fully aware, conversant for those two hours but caught in a past self.”
Men of Action is a book that invites re-reading. It is certainly worth your time, and I hope the book will find wide readership.
Unlike anything I've read recently, in the best possible way. Howard Akler says it takes him a very long time to settle on how to make his words communicate exactly what he wants them to. I can tell. The result is spare, precise and perfectly apt. I will look up his first (and only other) book next.
Son and writer Howard writes about father Saul, CPA, who falls into a coma after surgery for a brain tumour. He reviews what the two of them had in common and how well he knew his dad. Simply, sensitively written. Sad. Only 119 short pages.
I read this once before and stuck it on a shelf for a later reread. Glad I did. It is a very slim book and sparely written. Lots of white space, each scene taking no more than two pages, most often just one. Part of it is memoir, as the narrator tends his dying father and, later, attends his funeral. Along the way, however, he muses on such major themes as loss, consciousness, fathers and sons, and the performance of traditional masculinity. All this in exceptionally fine prose. A small gem.
Howard Akler is a writer in the truest sense of the word. This essay needs to be read slowly in order to savour the words and the sentences. A beautiful tribute to his father as he cared for him before his death.
An interesting biographical piece detailing a man's (the father of the author) descent into a coma after a brain tumour. Written uniquely, but ultimately the execution I find shallow. The author repeatedly says that they struggle with writing and it shows.
This author has a very unique style of writing. This is a memoir about his father in a coma and his feelings. I felt like I was reading someone's diary. It was very personal.