Masud Husain (Canongate Books)
What makes us who we are? Most of us ask this question at least once in our lifetimes. Personally, I wonder about it all the time. As an extrovert, much of my identity is built around being outgoing and friendly: these traits make me, me. But where do they come from? How durable are they? Could I wake up one day as someone who is reserved, quiet and calm? It is an unnerving thought.
These questions underlie Our Brains, Our Selves: What a neurologist’s patients taught him about the brain, one of the latest books in the genre pioneered by Oliver Sacks in The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat.
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Masud Husain, a neuroscientist at the University of Oxford, brings it up to date with the stories of seven people transformed by neurological conditions. We learn about Sue, who, over two years, went from being thoughtful and caring to inexplicably cold and aggressive. And there is Winston, who, out of the blue, stopped perceiving objects on his right side, leaving him unable to navigate the world.
Each story is fascinating in its own right; together, they form a thought-provoking book that exposes the precariousness of our sense of self. As Husain illustrates, our identities are inextricably tied to the brain, which is vulnerable to injury like the rest of the body. So, the foundations of our personalities are at risk, too. It is a mesmerising, albeit terrifying, realisation.
If Husain’s writing is an indication of his clinical care (which I suspect it is), then he is an intelligent, empathetic and perspicacious doctor. He tells each person’s story with care, fleshing out who they are as a parent, partner and friend. Sometimes, these observations can feel out of place, bogging down the narrative. But I came to appreciate them for helping me understand who Husain and his patients are.
For instance, take Michael. Husain writes that he had hair that “was impressively swept back, with the straightest of side partings dividing it with precision”. He goes on to describe Michael’s outfit in similar detail. While it may seem excessive, this detail shows Michael’s meticulous nature. It is easier to grasp how his condition – semantic dementia, a rare and progressive brain disorder – chips away at his identity, causing his memory of words and concepts to deteriorate. You can imagine the impact it has on someone like Michael, who so scrupulously parts his hair, to struggle for the right word.
By juxtaposing these subtle observations with his patients’ symptoms, Husain shows how identities take shape and how they can be destroyed. We see who these people were and who they are now.
But the book didn’t make me despair. Rather, I was amazed by the human brain and finished the last page with a newfound appreciation for my own. This is down to Husain’s clear explanations of brain functions, as he uses the neurological underpinnings of each condition to demonstrate how the brain stores memories, sparks motivation and perceives objects.
Not all the stories are bleak, either. Consider David, who became apathetic about everything. Husain found a medication that restored David’s motivation, transforming him from a lazy do-nothing back into an enthusiastic go-getter.
My only wish is that Husain had trimmed some of his personal anecdotes to make room for at least one more story from among his patients. For me, snippets about Husain’s life or global affairs broke the flow of the main narrative.
That aside, Our Brains, Our Selves is a worthwhile read. It is intriguing and informative as it tackles the thorny question of what makes us who we are from a compelling, neurological perspective. It also shows that I may indeed wake up one day as a different person. I hope that day never comes – I am grateful to be me.
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