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Jean-Dominique BaubyA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
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In this chapter, Bauby discusses Empress Eugénie, the wife of Napoleon III. She is his hospital’s original patroness, and a stained-glass window depicts her likeness in its main hall. The hall also contains a letter in which the deputy stationmaster of Berck’s railroad depot describes her visit to the hospital in 1864. Bauby takes a flight of fancy in in his writing about this letter, which he has read many times. He imagines himself caught up in the action of the visit that it describes—mingling with the Empress’s ladies-in-waiting, following her from ward to ward, and imagining her yellow-ribboned hat, her silk parasol, and the scent of her royal perfume.
He even recalls a time that he imagined confessing his woes to her. In this episode, he was shocked by what he initially perceived as a stranger’s face, which was reflected in the stained-glass window. He describes the face as one that looked as if it has emerged from a vat of formaldehyde, with a twisted mouth, mangled nose, tousled hair, and a frightened gaze. He observed that one of its eyes was sewn shut, and that the other was goggled, before suddenly realizing that the face was his own. He then recalls that, upon this realization, he began to laugh at the totality of his calamity—not only is he “paralyzed, mute, half-deaf, deprived of all pleasures, and reduced to the existence of a jellyfish, but [he] was also horrible to behold” (25). He then continues with his flight of fancy, recalling that Eugénie was at first taken aback by his laughter, before becoming infected by his mirth and joining in with him. He even muses, with a self-deprecating playfulness, that he would have invited her to join him in a dance, if he could. He closes the chapter by stating that, since that flight of fancy, he always detects a hint of amusement in the empress’s smile whenever he sees it.
Bauby opens this chapter by musing that the Naval Hospital—with its large, intricate silhouette—must be a sight to behold. He tells us that the words “City of Paris” have been emblazoned on the façade of the hospital’s most imposing annex, which was originally created for sick children in need of a healthier environment than Paris hospitals. He observes that the hospital has retained an isolated status—it is in actually in the Pas de Calais region, although on paper it is regarded as Parisian.
He then intimates that he is very observant of all the goings-on of the hospital, and relishes the opportunity to be taken on alternate daily paths through it, so that he may see new faces, encounter new areas of the hospital, or catch a whiff of food being cooked. He states that he arranges for these deviations in his routine by purposefully failing to alert any given person pushing his chair when they have taken the wrong route. He then recounts that it is in this manner that he became fortunate enough to glimpse a lighthouse while emerging from the elevator on the wrong floor. He states that he has placed himself under the lighthouse’s protection, and that, furthermore, it is through the lighthouse’s guidance and benevolence that he can sometimes navigate himself to Cinecittà—a region in what he terms his “imaginary geography of the hospital” (29).
Cinecittà is what he has decided to name a perpetually deserted terrace in the Sorrel ward of the hospital. He tells us that his room is in the Sorrel ward, and that there are other wards, such as the Ménard. Each of these wards is named after an eminent surgeon. He tells us that “the vast balconies of Cinecittà open onto a landscape heavy with the poetic and slightly offbeat charm of a movie set” (28). Bauby then describes the view from the balconies in highly evocative, emotional, and lushly sensory detail. He also reveals that, when he is in Cinecittà, in his mind, he becomes the greatest director of all time—either making edits to classic films such as Touch of Evil or Stagecoach, or becoming the protagonist of Jean-Luc Godard’s Pierrot le Fou. He ends the chapter with a wistful image of himself at Cinecittà during the winter, warmly bundled up while watching the lighthouse as it sweeps the horizon with hope-filled light after sunset.
With Chapters 3 and 4 detailing the banalities and small indignities of his new existence, Bauby spends Chapters 5 and 6 reveling in the power of his imagination, which remains completely intact, even as his body lies inert in the hospital. These two chapters showcase the wonder and richness of the sallies of his mind. Here, Bauby asserts that he can make use of both his new physical reality—exemplified by the Empress—and the intact faculties of his imagination—exemplified by the imaginary territory which he has christened Cinecittà (the name is based in the root word “cine”, meaning motion picture)—to conjure wondrous images full of lush detail and playful humor as well as the subtle pathos of both loss and resilience. Here, he is allowing no room for self-pity, instead asserting the redeeming power of his mind and his indomitable will to live. His astonishing ability to fashion sumptuously-detailed new adventures, even as he remains a quadriplegic, is a testament to the sheer power of his mind, and a bold declaration of unassailable will to enjoy the richness of life.