Wow. Wow. Sad. Just got a notification from my NYTimes app that John Nash, whose biography, made into a movie - "A Beautiful Mind," is dead. I had watched the movie long before I read the book. Benson Eluma gave me the book. It made so much impression on me that I nurtured the idea of not returning the book to him. At the time I watched the movie, I didn't know it was a biopic. Russell Crowe was sterling.
I had the book for a while. The movie exposed little than the book. John's genius was alluring, his struggles with severe case of schizophrenia was affecting. At the time, I had read so much about Einstein that I was quick to tell my friends that where Einstein's genius came with charm, John Nash's came with demons.
I'm still fascinated by the lone genius; the one with a minefield of ideas and intelligence, and who lives at the verge of social existence. John is a typical example. Blessed with a prodigious brain but at a price of grappling with social and interpersonal awkwardness.
The story of how he was awarded the Nobel and how it was announced to him was pretty shocking. The biographer painted a human who was above, actually unaware, of the social advantage of fame and who may not know how to deal with.
This is memory.
I admire John Nash. He ranks well on my pantheon of human-gods (Richard Feynman, George Carlin, Mark Twain, Jonathan Swift etc., etc.)