The poet Stephen Kuusisto's memoir, PLANET OF THE BLIND, is a most enjoyable read, and not just for its insight into the world of the blind - which it does provide, to a certain extent - but for the sheer beauty of its prose. Here's a sample, from a segment about Kuusisto and his high school friends breaking into an abandoned hotel for a night of teenage drinking and hijinks -

"Up the building's flanks we go, then across a rotting windowsill. The place smells of coal and strawberries ... The moon appears to have broken the windows, that's how greedy it was to enter these rooms, to shine on bed springs, fractured picture frames. I'm wide open, a young king, owing no one an explanation, indifferent in blindness."

The book abounds in language like this, but here's the really most astounding thing about Kuusisto's story: although he was legally blind from birth - a surviving twin born three months premature, resulting in a condition called ROP, retinopathy of prematurity - his parents raised him as if he were a sighted, normal child. He was able to cope, albeit with great difficulty, because he had some very minimal sight in one eye. But he was teased and tormented by his classmates throughout his public school years, called "Blindo" and Magoo, bullied and tormented. He took refuge in music, talking books and food. He was first an obese child, and then, filled with self-loathing as an adolescent, he became anorexic, nearly to the point of death. But he somehow pulled himself from the brink of extinction and began college at the small upstate New York college where his father worked. During those years he traveled to Europe, lost his virginity, and managed not only to graduate - although he was perpetually behind in his classes - but was accepted into the Iowa Writers Workshop for graduate school. After Iowa, he secured a Fulbright scholarship to Finland. He began Ph.D. studies in Chapel Hill, but was forced to abandon them when he accidentally injured his one 'good' eye. He worked for a time as an adjunct instructor at Hobart and William Smith Colleges, his alma mater.

He did all these things, and he was blind. He bluffed, bumbled, stumbled and bumped his way through life and school, but he could only see blurred shapes and colors, and his particular kinds of blindness could also be intensely painful at times too.

One might wonder, what kind of parents could let this happen? Well, his mother saw ghosts, stayed up all night, suffered headaches. His father, on the other hand, was a scholarly, absent-minded sort -

"... he makes his toast, reads the TIMES, listens to E. Power Biggs on the radio. He seems uncomfortable in the world of physical realities, hates doing anything that involves the use of tools, even hanging a picture can frustrate him. He likes his books, lives in print."

Hmm ... Love this description of his father because he sounds like me, actually. In short, Kuusisto says, "I thrived on suborning my blindness. My parents were perfect accomplices, loving, eccentric, well-meaning, dotty."

Kuusisto was nearly forty years old and unemployed when he finally was forced to admit his disability and sought help from state organizations for the blind. First he learned to use a cane to walk, and then he attended the Guiding Eyes for the Blind school and got a seeing eye dog, a yellow Lab named Corky. She changed his life. She gave him confidence. They became a team.

Once Corky entered his life, Kuusisto was no longer forced to walk with "the fight-or-flee gunslinger crouch that had been the lifelong measure of blindness ... At age thirty-nine I learn to walk upright."

This is simply one hell of a story, about a life filled with obstacles and difficulties, all told in beautiful, often poetic language, filled with literary and cultural allusions. I am in awe of all that Kuusisto has done with his life. And I love the way he writes too. I may have found this book twenty years late, but I'm glad I found it, by God. Thank you for sharing your story, Steve. My highest recommendation.

- Tim Bazzett, author of the memoir, BOOKLOVER ( )

Beautiful: if you've never really taken the time to appreciate your sight, this story of bravery and self-discovery will help you do that. ( )