Not surprisingly, he infuses the final stage of acceptance with a deep sense of self-awareness, that is, acceptance of an immutable loss and transformation. For a man who was once the editor in chief of a popular French magazine, this drastic change represents a brutal downgrading of personal, professional, and familial hope. Although the description of the grieving stages for a still alive man is heartbreaking, it teaches the importance of appreciation of life. This attitude represents the author’s triumph over his life. He used beautiful memories of his past as an anchor, considering them beautiful as a butterfly. I found the author’s strength and refusal to yield to his “diving bell’s” loneliness the most surprising component of his story.
When Bauby’s son visits him in hospital, Bauby wishes “to ruffle his bristly hair, clasp his downy neck, hug his small, lithe, warm body tight,” showing how much he loved and missed his family. When he imagines visiting his wife to “slide down beside her and stroke her still-sleeping face,” I come to terms with the realities of his suffering. These descriptions provide a mixture of extraordinary sadness and beauty. He accepts his new life with satirical cheerfulness and smiling qualms of an ordinary man, remembering with nostalgia the pleasures taken from him – baths, meals, conversations, and work. Its poignancy lies in the author’s ability to simplify an extraordinary story with a touching and skillful avoidance of the depths of despair. Gracefully, the author bore one of the worst imaginable fates humans could ever experience.
No one has ever written anything – leave alone a book – with the blinking of the left eyelid. What is more plausible than the narration itself is the existence of the essay. The “Diving Bell and the Butterfly” is a tale of endurance.
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