A young woman answers questions on an exam with direct quotes from lectures and textbooks, but she doesn’t have a photographic memory; she can remember passages of incredible lengths if she puts them to music. A composer advises the owner of a piano that its upper register is out of tune, only to be informed that it is perfectly in tune, having been tuned only the previous week. A seventy year old woman has musical hallucinations at quiet moments, the playlist of which includes ‘a really dreary version of We Three Kings of Orient Are’.

Musicophilia: Tales of Music and the Brain documents Oliver Sacks’ continued study of diverse psychological aberrations with typical respect for the dignity, and evocation of the effulgency of his subjects. The four parts of Musicophilia each consider a different category of musical anomaly: some of his patients and correspondents are ‘haunted by music’; other stories illustrate points on the spectrum of ‘a range of musicality’; later, Sacks describes psychological deviations which combine and affect ‘memory, movement and music’ as well as ‘emotion, identity and music’.

As the title indicates, those expecting an Idiot’s Guide to music will be left scratching their heads. Musicophilia‘s methodology, if it has one, is Sacks’ willingness to be led by the fascinating serendipities, and sometimes tragedies, of his subjects’ lives. Yet the strange territory covered by the books, interspersed with accounts detailing more well-known phenomena such as synaesthesia, will no doubt serve to put fire in the bellies of readers already interested in the workings of the mind, and in addition to his previous publications, Sacks readily cites other authors and texts to which a hungry mind might turn.

While wide-ranging within its musical theme, Musicophilia is yet another example of Sacks’ gift for explaining the intricacies of the mind and the body in accessible prose. He tells stories about musicians with Tourette’s Syndrome with deft and compassionate expertise, and reports previously unknown and therefore unnamed dis/abilities so as to leave no reader in doubt, nor simply in the wake, of his enthrallment by the fruits and the foibles of the mind.

here is a beautifully overexposed photograph taken by none other than yours truly featuring the book called what not to wear by trinny woodall and susannah constantine. if you have ever seen these broads on tv you may have witnessed their overuse of the word ‘tits’ to describe bosoms. whenever trinny is agreeing with something, her received pronunciation ‘yaaaah, yaaaaah’ is something i’ve often found amusing. look, i know it barely counts, it’s basically a picture book, for god’s sake. but it has some useful things in it apart from the odd real fashion boo-boo (they recommend wearing a sheer top without a bra if you have small boobs…um.) and they combine sartorial nous with a realistic view of bits and bodies, which is a good thing in my hon op.

the best thing about reading this book is annoying the shit out of everyone saying that everything they do is ‘freudian’. seriously, try it.

i juxtapose this with no logo for the following reasons. whereas no logo is radical, thorough, wide-ranging and empowering, judith levine’s not buying it is whatever words occur to you as the opposite of those preceding. i probably deserved what i got for buying this. i assumed that this book would be at least predominantly one of the following: a) radical, b) inspiring, c) instructive, d) entertaining, e) heart-warming. but i did not feel radicalised, inspired, instructed, entertained or heart-warmed by it in the least.

not buying it is a title which speaks to radicalism, but levine’s method wasn’t aimed at, or informed by radicalism at all. levine allowed herself to buy things, albeit basic ones. however, these things weren’t necessarily radical in themselves, like fruit trees. she still bought food (though restricted types) and other necessities. this strategy raises the question of what her goal is – to actively and sustainably reduce materialist wastage? or ‘just to see’? there is no question that not buying it treads the latter path, which makes for minimal education and challenge.

equally ambivalent is levine’s writing style. occasionally her use of personal anecdotes as jumping boards for wider discussion of consumption and capitalism works, but it doesn’t happen enough. there are lots of cute stories about making gifts for family members and joining non-consumption groups that fall slightly flat once you realise levine has a limit in terms of how far she’s willing to go. at the resolution of levine’s travails, her relief is palpable, which is discouraging to say the least.

end with a ready-made joke right here:

people are real assholes about naomi klein these days. i don’t mean media, because i haven’t noticed any, but normal people. when i was reading no logo, someone asked me why i was reading ‘that‘. but it is honestly the most influential book i have read this year. i know i am a little late. and it is outdated, though not due to any missteps on klein’s part. but i passed by her new book the shock doctrine: the rise of disaster capitalism in borders last week, for fuck’s sake. and i thought ‘oh shit. i’ve got to get onto that’.

i’m fuzzy on the detail of no logo because i read it months ago now. but when i did, it galloped around lassoing many of my left leanings with logic, research and optimism. i think i would have killed myself if i was naomi klein by now. i should probably still consider some kind of self-punishment: i still own nike shoes. i still have friends who go to starbucks. but i am trying to be more political with my money. everyone should read this.

an essay :