TWILIGHT

A slim volume on the learned truths of living with limited vision by a man for whom the printed word has been the mainstay of both his professional and private life. Grunwald (One Man’s America, 1997), former editor-in-chief of all Time, Inc., publications and under President Reagan US ambassador to his native Austria, first wrote of his fading sight in a 1996 New Yorker piece, “Losing Vision.” That article is the genesis of the present work. Once diagnosed with age-related macular degeneration (AMD), he began to learn everything possible not only about his condition but about the history of eye diseases and their treatment, and he shares some arcane tidbits here, describing ancient Egyptian remedies and revealing how the eye injuries of WWII fighter pilots led to refinements of cataract surgery. On a more personal note, as Grunwald’s vision fades, he becomes a “visual glutton,” storing up precious images of beloved faces and scenes. He dredges up visual memories from his childhood and muses about the art of seeing, the remaining pleasures of museum going, the hazards and rewards of traveling, the difficulties of ordinary social intercourse when eye contact is missing, and the enormous frustration involved in reading and writing. Perhaps the most poignant sentence in the book is his quiet lament, “My books are still more than furniture, but less than the living things they used to be.” While the physical effects of AMD are formidable, he has found the emotional ones more troublesome. He admits to bouts of anger and depression, but tries to fight back with humor and by making a game out of the need for coping strategies. In the process, he has learned patience, humility, and, reluctantly, acceptance of membership in the society known as the “handicapped.” Grunwald’s eyesight may have become cloudy, but the picture he creates for us is crystal clear.