Aleksandar Hemon’s “The Aquarium”

From The New Yorker's archive: an evocative Personal History about Hemon's infant daughter's rare illness.  ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌   View in browser | Update your preferences     Personal History The Aquarium One of the most common platitudes we heard was that "words failed." But words were not failing Teri and me at all. By Aleksandar Hemon The novelist and essayist Aleksandar Hemon writes with grace and searing candor about the moments, both scarring and joyous, that define our contemporary lives. Since 1999, Hemon has contributed more than twenty pieces to The New Yorker, on topics including the legacy of war crimes in Sarajevo, his experiences writing for television, and the unique pleasures of the perfect borscht. The author of nine books, including "Nowhere Man" and "The Lazarus Project," Hemon delves deeply into matters elusive and, ofttimes, dark. In 2011, he published an evocative Personal History about his infant daughter's rare illness. "The Aquarium," which won a National Magazine Award, explores the diagnosis and how Hemon and his wife coped with its aftermath. With spare exactitude, he writes about what it's like to endure tragedy as the world continues to swirl about you. "One early morning, driving to the hospital, I saw a number of able-bodied, energetic runners progressing along Fullerton Avenue toward the sunny lakefront, and I had a strong physical sensation of being in an aquarium: I could see out, the people outside could see me (if they chose to pay attention), but we were living and breathing in entirely different environments," he recalls. Hemon skillfully examines how we process our former lives once they've been turned inside out. How do we use narrative to survive—to convince ourselves that there is a path forward after immense hardships? At one point in his piece, the writer laments the haunting perception of the before and after that one experiences following a tragic event. There is so much tumult and adversity in our lives these days. The before is gone, a watery blur in our memories; the after is all that we can apprehend lately. It can feel, sometimes, like we are contained in a kind of stasis, floating in a limbo state, as we observe—and only observe, if we're lucky—the destructive currents all around us. We are waiting for our lives to resume, for tragedy and loss to no longer to define us, and for our existence, as Hemon puts it, to become recognizable again.   —Erin Overbey, archive editor More from the Archive     Onward and Upward with the Arts Beyond the Matrix From 2012: The Wachowskis travel to even more mind-bending realms. By Aleksandar Hemon     Fiction "The Noble Truths of Suffering" From 2008: "I wasn't going to go to the reception; I had had enough of America and Americans to last me another lousy lifetime." By Aleksandar Hemon You're receiving this e-mail because you signed up for the New Yorker Classics newsletter. Was this e-mail forwarded to you? Sign up.   Unsubscribe | Manage your e-mail preferences | Send newsletter feedback | View our privacy policy    The New Yorker may earn a portion of sales from products and services that are purchased through links in our newsletters as part of our affiliate partnerships with retailers.    Copyright © Condé Nast 2022. One World Trade Center, New York, NY 10007. All rights reserved.