NYRB Classics collector. Reads anything, so long as it's good. Sometimes historian. Frequently grumpy: you've been warned. Also at aliceunderskies.tumblr.com.
Probably my favourite of the many Oliver Sacks' books I've read throughout the years. Sacks is always fascinating, but in this book he is even more passionate and more personal than usual and as a result my usual Sacks afterglow (for some reason his books always leave me ridiculously happy and hopeful about the complexity and beauty of humanity [which is pretty much opposite to how I usually feel:]) was amplified ten times. Oliver Sacks is probably now officially one of my heroes: he's just so graceful and insightful and empathetic and fascinating all at once.