Apparently, the only writing I’ve been doing here lately is reading. I want to talk about Blind Man’s Bluff. I just finished my 2nd reading of this. Another book I decided to read because of the author. James Tate Hill is funny. I follow him on Twitter and have observed him as witty, sarcastic, and completely able to knock down the jokes set up before him. You know this is a worthy skill in my world. When I learned he wrote a memoir, I knew I had to read it.
The journey he writes about begins with losing much of his vision due to Leber Hereditary Optic Neuropathy (LHON) as a teenager. It then continues through college, writing endeavors, jobs, and relationships. Throughout, he attempts to hide his blindness from others. It’s a long and frustrating road. Obviously, frustrating for him; but also frustrating as a reader. This is why you should read it. It speaks to his ability to tell the story like you are hearing it from your friend. And you may want to bop that friend upside the head and say, Dude, this isn’t working and you’re going to get hurt.
He does such a great job demonstrating how demoralizing it can be to have to repeatedly remind others that your body is not able. I’m no expert on what does and does not count as an invisible disability, but I’d venture that it’s something the author and I share. I am hard of hearing. If you don’t know me well and don’t see my hearing aids, you probably don’t realize or even remember if you did know. I’ll ask you to repeat yourself if I don’t understand what you’ve said. Each time I have to ask, though, it gets harder. A lot of times, I’ll stop asking. Then, I’ll probably nod and smile as if I completely understood what you mumbled. It may come back to haunt me in the form of a committee assignment or task I didn’t want. Or, it may not. More likely, some people probably think I’m a jerk. It wears on a person, all the asking. Every time I have to ask someone to repeat what they just said. Every time I have to ask a speaker to use the damn microphone in front of them. Every emergency siren I don’t hear while driving. So, I get it. I get a person not wanting to declare for all the world, repeatedly, that he cannot see. Every menu. Every grocery store trip. Every street to be crossed. So, I’m grateful to J.T. Hill for sharing this piece of himself with the world. I saw little bits of myself, and, goodness knows, I need my own little bop upside the head from time to time.
The thing I loved most about Hill’s writing, though, is that he’s real. He’s honest. And he’s going to make you do a double-take with his perfect word choices and pop culture knowledge. Woven throughout his story are references that tie his experiences to the reader’s understanding. It was like bumping into good friends while gaining some insight.
I hope my librarian friend love his portrayal of the Talking Books services available to those who cannot read standard print. [Shout out to the amazing team at the Idaho Talking Books Service.] Hill writes candidly about Talking Books, their value, and the challenges where staffing/funding for supporting the service isn’t sufficient. He writes about wrestling with whether or not listening to a book is the same as reading it. [Spoiler alert: It’s the same thing!] Then, after considering how to defend his method of reading, concludes that “there is no defense quite like the feeling that you have nothing to defend.”
Read Blind Man’s Bluff. Then, ask your library to buy a copy for the collection.