If the 1995 stroke that paralyzed Jean-Dominique Bauby was cruelly premature, at least death had the courtesy to wait until the 45-year-old French journalist finished his last assignment. Less than 72 hours after readers and critics alike hailed as a triumph his memoir of living with locked-in syndrome–a state of virtually total paralysis that leaves the victim, in Bauby’s words, “like a mind in a jar”–the former editor in chief of French Elle magazine died. Bauby’s book Le Scaphandre et le Papillon is a celebration of life written by a man incapable of speech or movement. A career journalist whose wit, flair and savoir vivre became personal trademarks, Bauby saw his fast-paced life come to an abrupt end on Dec. 8, 1995, with the stroke that left him paralyzed. Though Bauby was dependent on hospital staff and machinery for all his bodily functions, his brain remained unscathed. He soon discovered that the only muscle still under his control was his left eyelid. By telegraphing a series of blinks, Bauby let his nurses know that his mind was alive and well inside its immobile frame. They responded by reciting a special alphabet to him with the understanding that Bauby would blink at letters he wanted written down. Repeating the process resulted in words, sentences and entire discussions. In June 1996, Bauby blinked out a letter to some 60 friends and associates to reassure them that his state was not vegetative. Editors at French publisher Robert Laffont, who had worked with Bauby before his stroke, were so impressed that they proposed he use the method to write a book about his condition. Bauby accepted and, composing and editing his prose before dawn, dictated entire sections of the book from memory, letter by letter, to Laffont employee Claude Mendibil. The result is a remarkable 137-page account of the tedium, trials and travails–and sometimes even joys–of the locked-in life. Bemoaning his fruitless “physical rehabilitation” sessions, for example, Bauby writes, “I would be the happiest man in the world if I could just properly swallow the saliva that permanently invades my mouth.” He lets his readers know that his celebrated wit survived the stroke by pointing up the ironic aspects of his condition. Bauby recalls a contract he signed before his illness to write an updated version of the Alexandre Dumas classic The Count of Monte Cristo–a tale involving a paralyzed protagonist who communicates by blinking. “The gods of literature and neurology decided otherwise,” Bauby laments, adding a twist. “To reverse the decrees of fate, I now have in mind a story whose main character is a runner instead of a paralytic. Who knows? It might work.”
