File this one under, “Be grateful for what you have”. Anna Lyndsey’s memoir about her sensitivity to light, which has resulted in her near-constant need to remain in the dark, is beautifully written, and alternates between darkly humorous, and downright tragic.
“Most of the time, I do not want to die. But I would like to have the means of death within my grasp. I want to feel the luxury of choice, to know the answer to “How do I bear this?” need not always be “Endure.”
Anna Lyndsey was living a fairly normal life in London, with her own apartment and a semi-serious boyfriend. She gradually begins to notice an issue when she works on her computer — her face feels like it’s burning. Then the sun starts to bother her. Then it becomes a full-body issue. Within months, she’s sequestered herself into total darkness in her boyfriend’s house, relying on him for everything while she listens to audiobooks and plays mental word games in the dark.
For never really writing (except for government documents for work) prior to starting her memoir, Lyndsey has one hell of a voice and style. I really loved the way she wrote the book — it bounces around in time so you can see how she improves and relapses, how she fights with doctors and consults with support groups. I also loved the interactions between her and her boyfriend — they seem like fun, witty people — a couple you would want to hang around.
Lyndsey doesn’t do a lot of whining and complaining, but she makes it clear how much she’s struggled with both the condition itself, and the knowledge that she’ll probably never be “cured”. Her honesty about how she feels — how she’s contemplated suicide, how she’s promised her husband to divorce him if things get too bad — really drives the situation home for the reader.
