On the move: a life

Reviewed by Jacqueline Glick

Editor's note: This book review was submitted before the recent death of Oliver Sacks; certain references to time have been lightly edited to reflect the fact of his passing. The warmth of Ms. Glick's personal reflections surely resonate with many of us who were touched by Sacks’ writings. In particular, the International Neuropsychoanalysis Society was honored to have Dr. Sacks give opening remarks at our founding congress in London in 2000, and deeply appreciated his public support of the neuropsychoanalytic endeavor. He will be missed.

On February 19th, Dr Oliver Sacks sent the world an announcement through the opinion pages of The New York Times that he had terminal cancer. Accepting this fatal diagnosis, he shared with us what he feels is worth keeping and what can be given up without too much regret in the time he has left. This was the unforgettable backdrop to plunging into reading Sacks’ latest memoir On the move: a life which so forcefully depicts his relentless pursuit of life.

I had also just seen the Charlie Rose program where Rose, Sacks, the painter Chuck Close, and the sculptor Richard Serra discussed “creativity.” With his distinguished white beard, soft voice and head half hidden by his dark blue cap, Sacks portrayed a strikingly different picture on the program than were shown in the photographs on the flap of his book. There we see a handsome, muscled motorbiker — a little rough around the edges. I knew this would be quite a trip. But now I was fearlessly mounting this bike and — hop, on the move, we go.

Before we follow his scientific education along a meandering and difficult personal life, we meet the child: “When I was at boarding school, sent away during the war as a little boy, I had a sense of imprisonment and powerlessness, and I longed for movement and power, ease of movement and superhuman powers.” At this point, we do not get the full force of this moment evoked in his earlier 2001 memoir Uncle Tungsten: Memor