DARK SIDE OF THE MIND
Neglect syndrome, a condition whereby damage to one hemisphere of the brain leaves sufferers with a severe deficit in spatial awareness, is little known and, as yet, imperfectly understood. As such, it makes an ideal central device for a novel where a person’s place in the world, and his very identity, are suddenly cast into doubt. Meet Martin, hero of Montrealer Liam Durcan’s The Measure of Darkness ( Bellevue Literary Press, 256 pp, $ 23.95).
“They’re not only less able to see things on one side of their body, they become unaware of that side of their body,” said Durcan of neglect sufferers. The 50- year- old clinical neurologist knows of what he speaks. His work at the Montreal Neurological Institute and Hospital brings him into regular contact with neglect- afflicted patients, and in his second novel he puts what he has observed to great literary use, creating a complex, maddening and memorable protagonist whose struggle resonates well beyond his specific circumstance.
When we first are introduced to Martin, the fairly successful midcareer architect has just emerged from a coma, having sustained a brain injury when his car was hit by a snowplow during a storm in the Eastern Townships. His long- estranged older brother, Brendan, has taken charge of his well- being, seemingly because no one else will. Spiriting Martin out of a care facility in Vermont, he takes his still- disoriented brother back to his home in Montreal, where he hopes to pick up his professional life where it left off.
The brothers’ connection to Montreal dates to the summer of 1967 and a family visit to Expo made when they were teenagers. On their return to their home city of Detroit, with the war in Vietnam at its height, Brendan chooses to answer the draft, while Martin chooses to avoid it, fleeing to Montreal and embarking on studies at McGill. Decades later, when Brendan finds himself in the unlikely role of his brother’s caregiver, questions linger: How did two people of such similar backgrounds choose such different life paths, and how, after all that has happened in the meantime, have they found themselves together again?
Elements of mystery hover over much of The Measure of Darkness. Was Martin’s near- fatal “accident” really an accident? Is he even in a state to make that call himself ? Is his intractable determination to resume his former life admirable, or is it down
to neglect- induced delusion? Given these and other uneasy implications, some might be tempted to categorize the book as a thriller. Would Durcan be okay with that?
“I suppose so, although I don’t know if it’s going to have the satisfactions of a procedural. If it is ( a thriller), I think it’s more a psychological thriller – the reader should be compelled by the character without necessarily finding him sympathetic.”
Sympathy and its lack, as Durcan acknowledges, are at the heart of the novel. “One of the problems ( with neglect syndrome) is that it’s sometimes very hard for people who suffer from it to be aware of what is wrong,” he said. “And if you’re unable to engage in the narrative of your illness, it’s really hard for those around you to engage as well. You’re deluded at times, paranoid. That’s a challenge ( in a
novel), and I tried to address that by making this character compelling – intellectually, his history, his journey.”
It’s a challenge successfully met. While maybe not especially likable, Martin is nonetheless relatable. Before his injury, he has been grappling with what James Baldwin, in a different context, once called the expectation to “make peace with mediocrity.” Martin, to be fair, is mediocre only by an uncharitable definition of the word. But he’s also sufficiently status- conscious to hear the middle word in “prominent local architect” as a slight.
“He’s an example of a person who had attained enough success to know that he wanted more success,” Durcan said of Martin. “That’s a dangerous situation for a lot of people. You have to come to terms with what you value, and in Martin’s case his ambition
won out. It’s that archetype of the person who is driven to the detriment of a lot of other things in his life. Martin understands that great architects are used as adjectives – Mies- ian, Gaudian – and that he’s just a noun. He’ll never make that jump.”
Something that may or may not be helping Martin is his self- identification with a real- life master he encountered early in his career – the Russian architect Konstantin Melnikov.
“He’s not forgotten, but he is under- recognized,” Durcan said of the Soviet- era figure.
Durcan did most of his research on Melnikov at the Canadian Centre for Architecture, and it’s at the centre’s Shaughnessy House where we’re having our conversation.
“He was a visionary, part of the Constructivist movement. He also suffered persecution under the Stalinist regime, and Martin
identifies with all that in both a positive and a negative way. I wanted to explore the various ways in which someone would try and explain his situation through the trials of someone else.”
What most sets The Measure of Darkness apart in the end is its evocation of Martin’s experience of neglect. Feeling his confusion and sharing the frustration of those around him, we get as far inside the head of a sufferer as it may be possible to get. If the science is woven into the story with a rare fluency, it could be because as a working scientist, Durcan is uniquely placed to apply his own knowledge and curiosity.
Which indirectly leads to a final question. His previous books ( the story collection A Short Journey By Car and novel Garcia’s Heart) decidedly do not read like the work of a dabbler. So, exactly how does a full- time neurologist – and assistant professor, and father of three – manage it?
“I’m busy, yes. We’re all busy. One thing I’ve managed to understand is that I have limited time for writing, so when I do write, it’s a respite for me. It’s enjoyable. I like to think that what goes into my writing is percolating during the day. And, living in Baied’Urfé, I take a 45- minute train ride in and out of the city every day, and it’s a great environment. You can concentrate, you have solitude. I think if the AMT ever devises a writer- in- residence program for their trains, I’ll be the first candidate.”
IF YOU LIKE THIS ...
Liam Durcan’s straddling of the science- art divide in The Measure of Darkness may well leave you in a receptive mood for a non- fiction equivalent. If so, proceed with confidence to When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi ( Random House, 228 pp, $ 33). The author, a polymath who studied neurosurgery at the Yale School of Medicine, was diagnosed with metastatic lung cancer shortly after completing his training in 2013 and kept a written record of his confrontation with mortality right up until his death in March 2015. The result is a deeply moving meditation on the things that matter most in life by a writer who could testify eloquently as both doctor and patient.
( Martin) is an example of a person who had attained enough success to know that he wanted more success. That’s a dangerous situation for a lot of people. Liam Durcan, author of The Measure of Darkness.