What an undertaking to investigate your own travel into darkness by describing your experiences along the way but also studying so many aspects of being going blind in a sighted world. This is such an impressive book and as a major help for anyone experiencing a diminishing level of sight. Leland's son is a delight with his comments and questions as his father's eyesight changes, fully accepting it because it's just part of "his Dad." The fact alone that Leland writes this book shows how he has come to accept his condition and is still an amazing contributor in his writing and speaking. I really appreciate what other reviewers in LibraryThing have written about this book, especially the idea that you really have no idea what someone else is living with in the few seconds of observing them so how can so many be so judgmental? ( )

this is part memoir part study of the culture of blindness. one of the best things, if not the best thing i've read so far this year. it has all the things you want from a memoir, but it also zooms out to capture the world around it. i think Leeland's own struggles with going blind is handled with care and the utmost respect for disabled people even when he admits to his own ableism. this book was smart, vulnerable, intimate, wide scope, well researched and reported. to what extent is blindness a mere characteristic, rather than a defining aspect of who we are? what do you lose as a result of blindness and is it possible to come out the other side the same person you were before? ( )

In the beginning the writer talks about how sighted people react to the obviously blind (cane wielding) and it's just crazy to me. Revulsion? Scorn? Condescension? An entitled sexual leer? Really? Who are you hanging around with? Pity I can see. Fear & curiosity, too, but the others? The ones that blame or scorn? That's just a crazy reaction. I haven't ever been in the company of a blind person other than casually seeing someone on a plane or in an airport, but none of those emotions crossed my mind except maybe the fear and possibly a little pity; I am human after all. Without glasses my world is a Vaseline covered smear until an object is within the end of my nose, but I could navigate it just fine because it's full angle and with depth. Driving and some other things would be out of the question and I wonder if I could still be a photographer or kayaker, but it wouldn't be the same and I can't imagine feeling blame or scorn for a blind person.

In the section about the warring national blindness organizations I had to laugh. One group lobbies for the chirping signal at city crosswalks to alert non-sighted people that it's safe to cross. One national group said it was condescending to blind people that they couldn't hear traffic telling them it was safe to cross. Well fuck you man, what about the sign that says WALK? Isn't that condescending to sighted people that they can't see that cars are stopped and it's safe to cross? What a STUPID argument.

One thing that came through loud and clear is the extent to which identity politics are ruining everything. As if certain segments of the population don't have enough problems, the internal strife and dissension is making it worse. Putting aside petty differences for the good of the whole is beyond everyone these days; we must only grind our own axes to death even if it is not in our best interests. Unity, consideration and (gasp!) compromise are off the table in favor of narrow agendas that have almost no effect to change policy or perceptions. When will people learn?

Ended up being a bit repetitive, but quite heartfelt. I still can't buy the assertion that loads of people actually cross the street to avoid blind people with canes, but maybe it does happen. Seems strange though. ( )

nonfiction, memoir / slowly losing vision from retina pigmentosa and an abridged history of blind-centered organizations and the fight for disability rights.

Very readable; pairs nicely with Rebekah Taussig's Sitting Pretty and Heumann's memoir Being Heumann, as well as any number of books about Deaf culture. ( )

In The Country of the Blind, author (and grandson of playwright Neil Simon) Andrew Leland writes about his experience of gradually declining vision due to a recessive form of retinitis pigmentosa. He delves into the history and lore of rehabilitation for the visually impaired as well as the promise and drawbacks of gene therapies and assistive technologies. He also meets a number of interesting people along the way.

The narrative is at its best when Leland writes about his relationships, marriage, and parenthood. It drags a bit when the author reports on the actions and infighting of organizations such as the National Federation for the Blind (NFB).

All in all, this book provides a good introduction to the challenges and, yes, even the upsides of living with a visual impairment. ( )