For a class in Effective Communication this past week, we watched the opening scene from The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. I, aghast and somewhat stunned, learned that no one, not one, of forty-some people had read the book. I hadn't seen the movie, pretty much because I fail to see how such a profound experience can be turned into something so banal, and because I generally lack appreciation for Julian Schnabel's love of French cleavage. While I see the point in the exercise (for us to have the experience of the patient's perspective), I wonder how such an amazing document (aka: 132 pages written with the blink of a single eye!) doesn't have more power than some crappy, post-modern cinematic reenactment. Super sad social commentary for a Wednesday afternoon.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
When Words Fail
For a class in Effective Communication this past week, we watched the opening scene from The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. I, aghast and somewhat stunned, learned that no one, not one, of forty-some people had read the book. I hadn't seen the movie, pretty much because I fail to see how such a profound experience can be turned into something so banal, and because I generally lack appreciation for Julian Schnabel's love of French cleavage. While I see the point in the exercise (for us to have the experience of the patient's perspective), I wonder how such an amazing document (aka: 132 pages written with the blink of a single eye!) doesn't have more power than some crappy, post-modern cinematic reenactment. Super sad social commentary for a Wednesday afternoon.
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