Speak, Memory (Oliver Sacks)
Lähetetty: 11.02.2013 18:251 
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1 Private Collection/Peter Ertl/Albertina, Vienna
Heinrich Kühn: Hans with Bureau, 1905; from Heinrich Kühn: The Perfect Photograph,
the catalog of a recent exhibition organized by the Albertina, Vienna. Now out of print,
it was edited by Monika Faber and Astrid Mahler and published by Hatje Cantz.
2 Private Collection
Georges Seurat: Night Stroll, 1887 – 1888
Speak, Memory
FEBRUARY 21, 2013
Oliver Sacks http://www.nybooks.com/articles/archive ... ry/?page=1
In 1993, approaching my sixtieth birthday, I started to experience a curious phenomenon—the spontaneous,
unsolicited rising of early memories into my mind, memories that had lain dormant for upward of fifty years.
Not merely memories, but frames of mind, thoughts, atmospheres, and passions associated with them—memories,
especially, of my boyhood in London before World War II. Moved by these, I wrote two short memoirs, one about
the grand science museums in South Kensington, which were so much more important than school to me when
I was growing up; the other about Humphry Davy, an early-nineteenth-century chemist who had been a hero of
mine in those far-off days, and whose vividly described experiments excited me and inspired me to emulation.
I think a more general autobiographical impulse was stimulated, rather than sated, by these brief writings, and
late in 1997, I launched on a three-year project of writing a memoir of my boyhood, which I published in 2001
as Uncle Tungsten.
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-> 2
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__ 2 1 Private Collection/Peter Ertl/Albertina, Vienna
Heinrich Kühn: Hans with Bureau, 1905; from Heinrich Kühn: The Perfect Photograph,
the catalog of a recent exhibition organized by the Albertina, Vienna. Now out of print,
it was edited by Monika Faber and Astrid Mahler and published by Hatje Cantz.
2 Private Collection
Georges Seurat: Night Stroll, 1887 – 1888
Speak, Memory
FEBRUARY 21, 2013
Oliver Sacks http://www.nybooks.com/articles/archive ... ry/?page=1
In 1993, approaching my sixtieth birthday, I started to experience a curious phenomenon—the spontaneous,
unsolicited rising of early memories into my mind, memories that had lain dormant for upward of fifty years.
Not merely memories, but frames of mind, thoughts, atmospheres, and passions associated with them—memories,
especially, of my boyhood in London before World War II. Moved by these, I wrote two short memoirs, one about
the grand science museums in South Kensington, which were so much more important than school to me when
I was growing up; the other about Humphry Davy, an early-nineteenth-century chemist who had been a hero of
mine in those far-off days, and whose vividly described experiments excited me and inspired me to emulation.
I think a more general autobiographical impulse was stimulated, rather than sated, by these brief writings, and
late in 1997, I launched on a three-year project of writing a memoir of my boyhood, which I published in 2001
as Uncle Tungsten.
(- -)
-> 2
_