Born on a Blue Day

“Numbers are my first language, one I often think and feel in. Emotions can be hard for me to understand or know how to react to, so I often use numbers to help me.” 

Numbers occupy a very special and critical place in Tammet’s mind and life. He uses them to navigate the world around him and to keep himself grounded and comfortable. In this passage, he explains how he can utilize his understanding of numbers to relate to others. He follows up this statement with an example of how he can understand a friend’s sadness by imagining his own saddening experience with certain numbers. Conversely, he might relate to a friend recounting a happy memory by recalling the way certain number combinations make him feel. In this way, numbers promote emotional intelligence and empathy.

“The nursery was my first experience of the outside world and my own recollections of that time are few but strong, like narrow shards of light piercing through the fog of time. There was the sandbox in which I spent long periods of the day picking and pulling at the sand, fascinated by the individual grains. Then came a fascination with hourglasses (the nursery had several of different sizes) and I remember watching the trickling, grainy flow of sand over and over again, oblivious to the children playing around me.” 

The author’s time in nursery school was formative for him. Some of the characteristics that would define his life forevermore—fixations on details and predictable patterns, for example—emerged in those early years of his life. We also see that the author was rather aloof from the other children and even his caregivers, which is not uncharacteristic of those with ASD. He recounts that there was not a good understanding of ASD in his youth (the early 1980s), but the behavioral patterns were easily observable and interpreted as shyness and sensitivity.

“I don’t remember feeling lonely at the nursery, probably because I was so absorbed in my books and beads and circles. Slowly I think the feeling was creeping over me that I was different from the other children, but for some reason it didn’t bother me. I didn’t yet feel any desire for friends; I was happy enough playing by myself.” 

By the end of nursery school, the author was old enough to formulate memories that he would be able to recall in adulthood. In this excerpt, he reflects on a growing awareness of his lack of connection with his peers, though at the time he felt apathetic about it. He hints that this would change in time through the word “yet,” insinuating that eventually, he would feel a desire for friends. Reflections like this allow the reader to view the experiences the author remembers through the eyes of a child not yet educated about or familiar with his ways of knowing and thinking. We see that peace and happiness were possible, but they looked different than what other children his age were experiencing.

“Following the seizures and my diagnosis, I think what must have frightened my parents most of all was the possibility that I would not be able to lead the ‘normal’ life they really wanted for me. Like many parents, they equated normality with being happy and productive.” 

The author offers this thought after discussing the family’s discovery of his epilepsy following a nearly-fatal seizure. Tammet cherishes his parents, but he notes at several points their anxieties surrounding stigmas and perceived limitations of people with disabilities. One of the main objectives of the memoir is to demonstrate how people with atypical neurology can live happy and fulfilling lives, even if their social and personal preferences differ from a mainstream norm. Without proper education on or exposure to neuroatypical people and their experiences, it can be hard for neurotypical people, like the author’s parents, to envision happiness and productivity outside of constructed norms. The author embodies a wider range of ways to be happy and fulfilled in one’s own life.

“It seems that my childhood seizures may well have played an important role in making me the person I am today

This quote opens a passage in which the author relays accounts of famous people who, in some way, benefitted or were shaped in seemingly positive ways from seizures. Even though the chapter reveals how unsettling living with epilepsy and medication was for the author as a young boy, his reflection of that formative time has a positive outlook. He references Russian author Fyodor Dostoyevsky, who described a feeling of unmatched elation before seizures. He also references writer and mathematician Lewis Carroll, whose famous Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland may have been partially inspired by Carroll’s temporal lobe seizures. The result of these reflections and allusions is a nuanced take on epilepsy that does not render those with it worthy of pity, but instead puts epilepsy into a much broader context of the human experience and culture.

“In one scene, snowflakes fall from the air and are caught in the children’s hands, magically transforming into letters which form words (a clue to help the children find one of the missing life force pieces). In another, stars in the night sky light up into shining road signs for the flying Dragon Gorwen. Scenes like these fascinated me because the story was told primarily in pictures, which I could relate to best, rather than spoken dialogue.” 

The author enjoyed the fantasy television series Through the Dragon’s Eye because the visual elements resonated with his own patterns of learning and perception. The bright colors and fantastical landscapes were visually appealing and comforting, and the children interacted with sensory input in a variety of ways that surpassed real-world norms (like the transforming snowflakes). School worksheets, however, presented information more narrowly, and auditory input from a teacher directing a lesson might not be engaging and accessible enough to actually facilitate the author’s learning. Because of the visual possibilities of television, the author spent a lot of time meticulously watching shows on a regular schedule.

“Their presence did ultimately have a very positive influence on me, however: it forced me to gradually develop my social skills. Having people constantly around me helped me to cope better with noise and change. I also began to learn how to interact with other children by silently watching my siblings playing with each other and their friends from my bedroom window.” 

The author had a very difficult time interacting with his classmates as a young child and did not desire their company or companionship. The reader knows, however, that the adult Tammet has meaningful interpersonal relationships. The comfort of home and constant presence of many siblings created a space in which Tammet could gradually learn social skills in a way he could not in the stressful environment of school. All throughout the book, Tammet reflects positively on his family members and credits them with important pieces of his development and personality. We first see these influences come from the author’s parents, but his siblings also contributed meaningfully to his world as they grew up together.

“Practicing such things was important to me, because more than anything else I wanted to be normal and to have friends like all the other children. Whenever I mastered a new skill, such as keeping eye contact, It felt so positive because it was something that I had had to work very hard on and the ensuing personal sense of achievement was always incredible.” 

Forging social connections with peers was a huge challenge for the author. Whereas a lot of people find interpersonal interaction somewhat natural and simple, the skills necessary to achieve success in that area required hard work and practice for Tammet. He had a keen sense of awareness that he had to overcome particular barriers in order to be social outside of his home, and as he mastered new skills, he enjoyed the sense of accomplishment that comes with meeting goals and seeing one’s self improve. This is the first passage in which the author himself articulates a desire to be “normal.” The book as a whole complicates the notion of normalcy, but from the perspective of the middle-school-aged Tammet, the other children all fit in and he was, as the chapter title says, the only odd one out.

“I had to find a way of brushing my teeth regularly. In particular, my brothers and sisters and the children at school were noticing that my teeth were discolored and teased me about it, which made me more and more reluctant to even open my mouth to talk because of the insults that would ensue.” 

Manually brushing teeth was very uncomfortable for the author, who did not like the sound of the brush on his teeth. His motivation to overcome this sensitivity was external: He felt self-conscious about the way other children noticed and talked about his teeth. In younger years, the jeering of peers did not affect him so much, but as the author neared puberty, he began wanting the approval and friendship of those around him.

“In my preliminary math exam I had scored an A, but in my final exam I was given a B grade because my algebra was relatively poor. I found it very difficult to use equations that substituted numbers—to which I had a synesthetic and emotional response—for letters, to which I had none.” 

The reader knows that Tammet possesses excellent math and computational skills. The education system, however, operates according to norms in student learning that the author did not share. As a result of the inflexibility of the school curriculum in catering to different ways of learning, the author ultimately decided to stop pursuing advanced-level math in school. He does not make a case for expanding education in settings like the school he attended, but he does convey that the standard modes of operation in public places often exclude people who do not fit the imagined norm of the society around them.

“I did not understand emotions; they were things that just happened to me, often seemingly appearing from nowhere. All I knew is that I wanted to be close to someone, and not understanding closeness as being primarily emotional, I would walk up to some of the other students in the playground and stand very close to them until I could feel the warmth of their body heat against my skin. I still had no concept of personal space, that what I was doing made other people feel uncomfortable around me

The many changes of adolescence and puberty posed challenges for Tammet, who noticed his biology and mental worlds altering but could not decipher new emotions and desires or square them with other people’s emotions and desires. Continual self- and social understanding came with time and practice. The author discusses intimacy later in the book, once he is more successful at it, but this passage communicates his starting point with intimacy in very young adulthood.

“I felt very anxious about the possibility of leaving my family and traveling hundreds of miles away to a new life in a new country. But I was an adult now and knew that I had to do something if I was ever going to be able to make my own way in the world outside my room at home.” 

Tammet expands his independence after secondary school by volunteering to teach English abroad. He knows that such an undertaking is risky and potentially anxiety-provoking, but his determination to pursue an independent life outweighs his desire to remain comfortable in a much more contained life with his parents and family. The feelings of self-doubt, desire for independence and adventure, and uncertainty about the future are all characteristic of young adults around Tammet’s age. The passage highlights that as different as Tammet has often felt from his peers, he has essential experiences in common with them.

“I had become tired of not knowing who I was, of feeling disconnected from a part of me that I had long been aware of. That phone call was one of the biggest decisions of my life and one of the most important too.” 

The call that Tammet references in this quote is the one he made to connect with a group for gay people in Lithuania. He set up a meeting with a nearby member of the group who eventually became his friend. Tammet had experienced feelings of desire and attraction, but he had never pursued actively coming to terms with or exercising his sexuality. The decision to be more public about this component of his identity marked a turning point from which the author grew to be more confident and fulfilled.

“I had eventually come to understand that friendship was a delicate, gradual process that mustn’t be rushed or seized upon but allowed and encouraged to take its course over time. I pictured it as a butterfly, simultaneously beautiful and fragile, that once afloat belonged to the air and any attempt to grab at it would only destroy it. I recalled how in the past as school I had lost potential friendships because, lacking social instinct, I had tried too hard and made completely the wrong impression.” 

One of the author’s most significant evolutions that he recounts in his memoir is his ability to connect with other people and forge friendships. Many components of interpersonal interaction that might seem natural to a lot of people, like the need for space or subtlety, were abstract elements of a delicate social process that the author had to learn through observation, education, trial, and error. In his adulthood, he was finally able to avoid the pitfalls that he had suffered earlier in his eagerness to connect with peers. His time in Lithuania, especially, highlighted his newfound ability to make friends, and he made a diverse and engaging group of friends there that he kept in touch with after moving back to England. He did, of course, still feel a sense of “differentness” from those around him, but he had learned how to move beyond the anxiety and self-doubt of that differentness and find things in common with those around him.

“Falling in love is like nothing else; there isn’t a right or a wrong way to fall in love with another person, no mathematical equation for love and the perfect relationship.” 

Beyond just making friends, the author accessed his capacity for romantic love. He met and fell in love with his partner on the Internet, and he reflects that no previous experience compared to the emotions and desires he felt during that process. In this passage, he contrasts the abstract, emotional experience of love with the empirical reality of mathematics. Math and anything formulaic were previously things that the author might excel in, whereas abstract or emotional concepts were not. In his adulthood, however, he was prepared to experience and understand deeply emotional pursuits and reactions.

“But it isn’t just very creative people who make these connections. Everyone does; we all rely on synesthesia to a greater or lesser degree.” 

Tammet makes this claim after discussing brain and learning science related to language. He brings up examples of synesthetic images from Shakespeare, like the term “bitter cold,” which combines taste with a tactile experience unrelated to taste. Though Tammet has diagnosed synesthesia that is particularly developed and elaborate, the experience of the condition is something that most people can probably relate to on a lesser level. This is one of several moments in the book in which the author discusses neuroscience and places his own ways of perceiving and understanding in a larger context shared by people not on the autism spectrum, or in this case, with an advanced case of synesthesia.

“I continued to dream that one day I would speak a language that was my own, that I would not be teased or reprimanded for using and that would express something of what it felt to be me.” 

Language holds many possibilities for the author since he relates to words and combinations of words with so many overlapping senses and sensations. He is gifted at learning foreign languages but also creates his own, complete with an extensive vocabulary and consistent grammatical structure. What the author found particularly exciting about the prospect of creating his own language was that he could do so without outside intervention that would demand certain conventions that did not reflect the ways that the author thought or felt. In the language he named Mänti, words reflect relationships or express multiple related concepts. Mänti is a tangible product of the author’s mental world.

“The noises did not bother me, because as I recited I could feel myself becoming absorbed within the visual flow of colors and shapes, textures and motion, until I was surrounded by my numerical landscapes. The reciting became almost melodic as each breath was filled with number upon number upon number and then I suddenly realized that I was totally calm, as I had been in my dream the night before.” 

In this passage, the author recalls his public recitation of pi to 22,514 places in Oxford in 2004. Crowds and attention have the potential to distract and upset Tammet, but his absorption in his task was so complete that he was able to relax into the comfort of pi in his mind and perform. The calmness that comes with his synesthetic relationship to number sequences was apparent since childhood, but he had not previously publicly displayed his ability to memorize numbers on such a scale.

“Like the Mona Lisa or a Mozart symphony, pi is its own reason for loving it.”

The author notes that after his recitation of pi, many people asked him why he had been interested in undertaking such a task. He replied by saying that he is genuinely fascinated by and likes the number. In this passage, he compares it to masterpieces of visual art and music. These are logical comparisons for Tammet, because as we know, he experiences numbers visually and audibly. This anecdote also reveals that although his accomplishment brought him fame and recognition, he was invested in the experience for the sake of the number itself, not a desire to be in the spotlight.

“Sometimes people ask me if I mind being a guinea pig for the scientists. I have no problem with it because I know that I am helping them to understand the human brain better, which is something that will benefit everyone. It is also gratifying for me to learn more about myself, and the way in which my mind works.” 

At several points in the book, Tammet mentions his desire to help others. He has raised money for charities and helped grant visibility for important causes related to autism and epilepsy. He volunteered abroad and helped women learn English. He also sees his participation in scientific studies as a way to help the field of brain science, which might have broad implications for people across the globe. Paired with that selfless desire is the acknowledgment that it is a unique opportunity to dive deeply into one’s own brain, and he values the information that comes from studies that allow him to understand himself a little better. The book frequently reflects on the value and impact of self-discovery, and the author pursues opportunities to discover himself more fully in many instances.

“I had mixed feelings about this proposed sequence in the program. The last thing I wanted to do was to trivialize my abilities or reinforce the erroneous stereotype that all autistic people were like the Rain Man character. At the same time, I understood that the program needed to have some fun and visual sequences to cut between the more serious scientific ones.” 

In this passage, the author is referencing the filming of a documentary about him and savant syndrome more broadly. Specifically, the producers planned for Tammet to play cards in a casino in Las Vegas, just like the main character in the movie Rain Man did. The author has mentioned Rain Man several times in the book already. That movie provided the point of reference for savant syndrome for a generation of movie-goers. Tammet is not generally overtly critical of the movie, but he mentions in this passage that the movie created stereotypes about people with savant syndrome and autism. The author does agree to film the gambling sequence, but he thinks carefully about the implications of presenting himself in such a way.

“Kim’s special gift is not only his brain, but also his heart, his humanity, his ability to touch the lives of others in a truly unique way. Meeting Kim Peek was one of the happiest moments of my life.” 

During the filming of the television documentary, Tammet met Kim Peek, who was the real-life inspiration for Rain Main. For the first time in his life, Tammet got to spend time with another person with savant syndrome. The experience invites introspection and reflection. The two men instantly got along very well, knowing that they related to each other in a way that most people cannot. Tammet also realized, however, that he is fortunate to be able to live independently, as Peek requires full-time care provided by his father. Peek and his father go on speaking tours to encourage respect for everyone’s differences. Connecting with Peek was both formative and positive for Tammet.

“It was the strangest thing: the very same abilities that had set me apart from my peers as a child and adolescent, and isolated me from them, had actually helped me to connect with other people in adulthood and to make new friends.” 

The author makes this statement after recounting the story of his trip to Iceland. There, he felt accepted and warmly embraced. People routinely valued him for his gifts in math, memorization, and language. These qualities transformed from things that repelled people to things that attracted them, but he himself created the shift by working hard to understand and express emotions, learning the subtleties of forging friendships, and generally practicing skills that helped him comfortably navigate society. With a better sense of himself and the world around him, the author sculpted a happy life for himself—one that he shares with other people.