[close] Hungarian author Frigyes Karinthy was sitting at his desk trying to decide between writing a long-projected monograph on modern man or polishing up a new play, when he was disturbed by the roaring–so loud as to drown out other noises–of a passing train. Before long it was gone, only to be succeeded by another. And another. But, Karinthy thought, it had been years since there had been trains in the streets of Budapest. Only then did he realize he was suffering from an auditory hallucination of extraordinary intensity.

What in fact Karinthy was suffering from was a brain tumor, not cancerous but hardly benign, though it was only much later–after repeated spells of giddiness, the occasional fainting fit, friends remarking that his handwriting had somehow changed, and his discovery that the pages of books had gone blank before his eyes–that he consulted a doctor and began the process that led to an accurate diagnosis and a risky operation to correct the condition. What makes A Journey Round My Skull such a brilliant piece of medical testimony, and a memorable work of literature as well, is Karinthy’s unflinching but strangely lighthearted description of his descent into illness. This troubling and scary, but above all life-affirming, book dances brilliantly on the edge of extinction. [close]