The History of My Shoes and the Evolution of Darwin's Theory

Disability is all about adaptation. That's not news to me. As performance artist Neil Marcus has said, "Disability is an art—an ingenious way to live." It's improv, sometimes all day long, when out in the public environment built primarily for nondisabled folks. I suspect that's not news to most disabled people either.

But Kenny Fries' newest book, The History of My Shoes and the Evolution of Darwin's Theory, combines musings on adaptation and the life and science of Charles Darwin with personal memoir and travel diary in unique and thoughtful ways. One thing Fries notes, particularly in regard to Darwin and his success as a scientist, is that interdependence (and sometimes dependence) is a natural part of human interaction and achievement:

Darwin's journey toward the theory of evolution itself was an act of reciprocity. His social situation, his finances, his family and friends, led to his collecting success, as well as to the publication of his theory. He used his family members in his experiments, and was assisted by neighbors. To arrive at the ideas at the core of On the Origin of Species, Darwin depended on the theories of others, such as Malthus, Lyell, and Wallace. Was Wallace's lack of social standing the reason he is not remembered today for cofounding evolutionary theory?

As man advanced in civilization, Darwin noted, small tribes became united into larger communities. Each individual began extending his social instincts toward all members of the tribe and eventually to members of the same nation, even though these people were personally unknown to him. Darwin concluded that once this point was reached, only artificial barriers prevented an individual's sympathies from extending to the members of all nations and races. (pp 163-4)

In terms of disability, interdependence (and dependence) has been relentlessly framed by society as weakness stemming from tragic imperfection. Yet in many other situations, interdependence is called "backup" or "teamwork." Collaboration. Ingenuity.

Fries explores the difference in perception that has traditionally determined that disability and the adaptions people invent in the face of impairments are uncool despite many disabled people's use and reliance on cool cutting edge technology:

"When you think disability, think zeitgeist," writes disabled journalist and news broadcaster John Hockenberry. Humanity's specifications "are back on the drawing board, and the disabled have a serious advantage in this conversation." We live in a time when the disabled are on the cutting edge of the social trend of the broader use of technology. Wireless technology and electronic gadgets are ubiquitous. The meaning of what it is to be human is wide open.

Who decides riding a motorcycle is cool whereas riding a wheelchair is not? Who decides drinking through a straw is sexy but breathing through a respirator is not? Who decides using a personal computer is natural but using a Braille 'n Speak, a variation of a PC, is not?

What we learn by adaptability may tell us more about the natural ways in which all of us can best flourish in an increasingly interdependent, complex, and confusing world. (p 180)

My favorite parts of The History of My Shoes are Fries' hikes up mountains, through Thailand, and around the Galapagos Islands, where he observes and relates what he sees to his life experiences with his own physical impairments. I think there's often the idea that creatures in nature evolve into or toward perfection and that the struggles they have to survive are due to life's cruel nature, environmental hardship and human interference. And that's all part of it on a grand scale. But the individual creatures Fries observes (or Darwin wrote about) persisted despite "imperfection." And adapted individually when they could. Just like us.

Both Simi Linton and Stephen Kuusisto have blogged about Fries' book, Linton adding her own thoughts on adaptation and Kuusisto (also quoted in a blurb on the book's back cover) looking at the poetry within Fries' prose.