The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

Bauby opens this chapter by quoting the first of a series of letters that he has chosen to send out to some sixty of his friends and associates, as a “samizdat bulletin” to inform then en masse, since he cannot hope to answer every one of their letters individually. In the letter, he specifies that as of June 8, it will be six months since his stroke. He tells his friends that he initially refused to believe the seriousness of his condition, and that he thought he would soon be back to his life, albeit with the help of a few canes.

Bauby then reveals that he knows about the Paris gossip regarding him. He likens those who speak ill of him to vultures congregating around the disemboweled carcass of an antelope. He vividly imagines his detractors as they trade rumors about him at the Café de Flore: “Did you know that Bauby is now a total vegetable?” they ask each other pettily, as they enjoy their meals (82).

While he began his bulletin as a way to redeem his character and assert his humanity, it has also reconnected him to many of his friends, although a few still remain resolutely silent. It comforts him to know that he is laying the rumors to rest, and informing his friends that they can visit him in his “diving bell” if they so choose. He closes the chapter by reveling in the beautiful letters that he receives, which range from those which contain serious discussions of the soul and the meaning of life (curiously written by those with whom he had only superficial relationships) to those which simply recount the small events of daily life—“roses picked at dusk, the laziness of a rainy Sunday, a child crying himself to sleep” (83). He muses that these affirmations of life and of his own humanity guard against the predatory rumor mill that seeks to tear him down.