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3.82 AVERAGE
3.82 AVERAGE
This was a really great book for those who enjoy reading and have someone close to them that also enjoys reading. There were words and sections that inspired and moved me, but I just don't think I'm well-read or interested in politics enough to appreciate most of the topics covered in the book. I did enjoy reading quotes from other books -- a reader always loves suggestions of what else to read.
I really liked the idea of working all these books into the story of his mother's cancer journey. I loved the way it celebrates books, but it got slow in the second half.
emotional
reflective
sad
slow-paced
I normally really like reading end of life stories for how reflective they are. This one was sweet, the author reads books alongside his mother as she's battling terminal cancer. But it wasn't really reflective or get into their complex emotions or grief.
A memoir of the time spent and the books read together by a son and his mother over the 18 months from her diagnosis to her death from pancreatic cancer. I found it uninteresting and tiresome; obviously, I have no heart.
Things I loved:
-the emphasis on books and how they can make life worth living, inspire people to action and be a sign of love between those who share them
-the values Mary Anne lived by and her tireless efforts of humanitarianism and just being a stand out human being clearly
- the relationship Will had with his mother
- the way the books gave insight to Mary Anne's illness and to what it means to be human and therefore mortal
Things I didn't love so much:
- some parts seemed a little heavy handed/borderline cliche (unfortunately the part where the title was analyzed was one of these moments)
- the fact that at times the discussion of the routines of the illness slowed down the progression of the bigger ideas at play
Overall though, a worthy read.
-the emphasis on books and how they can make life worth living, inspire people to action and be a sign of love between those who share them
-the values Mary Anne lived by and her tireless efforts of humanitarianism and just being a stand out human being clearly
- the relationship Will had with his mother
- the way the books gave insight to Mary Anne's illness and to what it means to be human and therefore mortal
Things I didn't love so much:
- some parts seemed a little heavy handed/borderline cliche (unfortunately the part where the title was analyzed was one of these moments)
- the fact that at times the discussion of the routines of the illness slowed down the progression of the bigger ideas at play
Overall though, a worthy read.
I cannot really say I read this book because I did not finish it. But I have taken ‘Mom’s’ advice found on page 150 “ I’m talking about those novels where the characters aren’t really interesting and you don’t care about them or anything they care about. It’s those I won’t read anymore”. I find this 'novel' more than uninteresting I find it irritating. I find myself wanting to make Will Schwalbe sit down and read a poorly written 'novel' about my mother's death from pancreatic cancer. This is NOT the end of your life book club, this is catharsis for Will Schwalbe and he should keep it to himself.
While I liked this book, it also bugged me for a number of reasons. All of which are to do with me, and are nothing to do with the book itself:
1) I've only read one of the books mentioned. In fact, I haven't even heard of most of them.
2) Will's mum is almost unbelievably good. She sounds an amazing woman, working tirelessly to help others, campaigning for refugees, always having time for people. And she doesn't let a small matter like dying from pancreatic cancer stop her. Sometimes it felt like the sole purpose of the book was to make me feel inadequate and selfish.
3) I'm jealous. I have never had a relationship like that with anyone in my family. Will Schwalbe is a very lucky man. Which I'm sure he realises.
1) I've only read one of the books mentioned. In fact, I haven't even heard of most of them.
2) Will's mum is almost unbelievably good. She sounds an amazing woman, working tirelessly to help others, campaigning for refugees, always having time for people. And she doesn't let a small matter like dying from pancreatic cancer stop her. Sometimes it felt like the sole purpose of the book was to make me feel inadequate and selfish.
3) I'm jealous. I have never had a relationship like that with anyone in my family. Will Schwalbe is a very lucky man. Which I'm sure he realises.
For some reason I feel oddly guilty that I liked this book as much as I did. I have no idea why I'd be experience "book shame" over it, since there's nothing that I can pinpoint about it that would instill those feelings, and yet I get the feeling that many other avid book lovers didn't really like this one, that maybe it was manipulative in some sense and any affection it gained from me wasn't hard or honestly earned by the author.
But the fact is that I really did enjoy this book. A lot. It was one of those books that I picked up somewhat at random and just started reading and then couldn't really start. Schwalbe writing is thoughtful and intelligent, but also breezy and conversational in tone so it's easy to sink right in and get ferried along for the ride. Perhaps because so much of the book involves conversations between himself and his mother, it's easy to feel, at times, like he is talking to the reader instead and you're part of an active dialogue. I liked Schwalbe's delicate balance of sentiment and wit, and even though this book did make me cry at times, I didn't feel like he was really working to tug the heartstrings or be maudlin, he was just writing his heart's truth and I responded to that. I liked how he spoke without guile about his affection for his mother, about their mutual love of books, how even if things in the book were "massaged" so as to make the story flow more fluidly, it didn't feel manufactured and still felt true (the essence was pure, even if things didn't go exactly as portrayed).
I picked this book up hoping it would focus mostly on books, that the author's mother's cancer would just be the backdrop against which the discussion of books plays out, but of course, this is not the case. In fact, the books are more incidental in the discussion of the cancer and rather than them taking center stage, it is Will's mother, Mary Anne, who is the central lynchpin of the novel. At first this annoyed me a bit because I care more about books than a stranger who also likes books, but it didn't take that long for me to get over my disappointment. Because Mary Anne Schwalbe was really a fascinating woman who lived an interesting life, and Schwalbe writes about her and the family and their collective struggle to deal with her cancer and her dying with such magnetism, I soon found myself invested in following the journey, even though I knew how it would all turn out. Some people have lambasted Will for his life of privilege and the "first world, upper class" problems they struggle through, but I felt that even if the life he lived was very different from my own, it was still of interest, and there was still this common bond of humanity that made me empathize with his journey. Plus, anyone who loses a parent to a painful disease can't really be that privileged in the end, can they?
Even if the book didn't talk about books quite enough for my (and I suspect other readers') tastes, when it did talk about books, it did so with such enthusiasm that I quite literally found myself interested and excited to try each and every book that was discussed. Even ones that I already knew about and previously dismissed as not being my cuppa. In a way, the fact that each book was never really discussed to a satisfactory extent maybe piqued my interest all the more because there was enough to intrigue, but not enough to state the interest. There are so many great quotes about reading and books and the pleasure they bring, and I liked spending time with someone who had clearly invested so much of himself and his heart in something I too am so fond of.
So, I started reading this for the book aspect, stayed because of the writing, and found myself unexpectedly invested in the story of two strangers who I didn't know existed before I started and found myself happy to have spent some time with by the end. Isn't that what we always hope will happen with every book we read?
But the fact is that I really did enjoy this book. A lot. It was one of those books that I picked up somewhat at random and just started reading and then couldn't really start. Schwalbe writing is thoughtful and intelligent, but also breezy and conversational in tone so it's easy to sink right in and get ferried along for the ride. Perhaps because so much of the book involves conversations between himself and his mother, it's easy to feel, at times, like he is talking to the reader instead and you're part of an active dialogue. I liked Schwalbe's delicate balance of sentiment and wit, and even though this book did make me cry at times, I didn't feel like he was really working to tug the heartstrings or be maudlin, he was just writing his heart's truth and I responded to that. I liked how he spoke without guile about his affection for his mother, about their mutual love of books, how even if things in the book were "massaged" so as to make the story flow more fluidly, it didn't feel manufactured and still felt true (the essence was pure, even if things didn't go exactly as portrayed).
I picked this book up hoping it would focus mostly on books, that the author's mother's cancer would just be the backdrop against which the discussion of books plays out, but of course, this is not the case. In fact, the books are more incidental in the discussion of the cancer and rather than them taking center stage, it is Will's mother, Mary Anne, who is the central lynchpin of the novel. At first this annoyed me a bit because I care more about books than a stranger who also likes books, but it didn't take that long for me to get over my disappointment. Because Mary Anne Schwalbe was really a fascinating woman who lived an interesting life, and Schwalbe writes about her and the family and their collective struggle to deal with her cancer and her dying with such magnetism, I soon found myself invested in following the journey, even though I knew how it would all turn out. Some people have lambasted Will for his life of privilege and the "first world, upper class" problems they struggle through, but I felt that even if the life he lived was very different from my own, it was still of interest, and there was still this common bond of humanity that made me empathize with his journey. Plus, anyone who loses a parent to a painful disease can't really be that privileged in the end, can they?
Even if the book didn't talk about books quite enough for my (and I suspect other readers') tastes, when it did talk about books, it did so with such enthusiasm that I quite literally found myself interested and excited to try each and every book that was discussed. Even ones that I already knew about and previously dismissed as not being my cuppa. In a way, the fact that each book was never really discussed to a satisfactory extent maybe piqued my interest all the more because there was enough to intrigue, but not enough to state the interest. There are so many great quotes about reading and books and the pleasure they bring, and I liked spending time with someone who had clearly invested so much of himself and his heart in something I too am so fond of.
So, I started reading this for the book aspect, stayed because of the writing, and found myself unexpectedly invested in the story of two strangers who I didn't know existed before I started and found myself happy to have spent some time with by the end. Isn't that what we always hope will happen with every book we read?
Another book to add to my all time-favorites list. This book is about far more than reading while dying. It is a book about how to live a life well, filled with wonderful people and service towards others. This book made me long to be a kinder, gentler person. It helped me to see that the work I do every day as a teacher to refugees in America is just as meaningful as the work done by people in the field. It may not feel as exotic as working in Africa or Asia, but the opportunity that I have to teach refugees and their children here in America is a privilege. I put this book down last night and silently thanked the author and his family for sharing his mother with the world. You have accomplished what you set out to with this book, at least in the life of this reader. Your mother would be proud of you.
I enjoyed reading about reading! I loved the author's mom too.