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A review by eline1701
When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi
challenging
reflective
medium-paced
4.0
This was a difficult book to get through, but certainly not because of how it's written. I love the prose, and if it hinges on pretentious every now and then, I guess Kalanithi, as neurosurgeon, neuroscientist and MA graduate in English Literature (if I recall correctly), is allowed to be - and also, as someone who's dying. He's also just so damn earnest and curious, I found his voice such a pleasure to read as he talked passionately and honestly about literature, neuroscience, and the meaning of life. He also really gave me a newfound appreciation for just how hard residence life is, and life as a doctor in general.
It's an odd reading experience, too, knowing that the author was dying as he wrote this, and is now dead. It also made me reflect on my own reaction, as I couldn't help but think of everything he could've done in the field of neuroscience, as well as as a surgeon. Does that make the loss worse? I guess in the end that's just not a useful way of thinking. Who determines value, etc. Nevertheless, I'm certain his hospital and neuroscience as a whole are worse off without him, as is the literary world. And - as becomes clear at the end, so is his family. My thoughts go out to them.
I think what I'll try to take away from this novel is his drive and curiosity. He really wanted to do certain things and he gave it his all to do so every step of the way. I'll have to remind myself to live a little more daringly, too. To remain curious and, above all, passionate.
This has to be one of my worst reviews yet, especially in terms of coherency, but finally I want to share a few quotes that I loved:
"Anatomy lab, in the end, becomes less a violation of the sacred and more something that interferes with happy hour, and that realization discomfits. In our rare reflective moments, we are all silently apologising to our cadavers, not because we sensed the transgression but because we did not"
"We all have a notion of what it means to be good, and we can't live up to it all the time"
"I plod, I ponder. Some days, I simply persist"
It's an odd reading experience, too, knowing that the author was dying as he wrote this, and is now dead. It also made me reflect on my own reaction, as I couldn't help but think of everything he could've done in the field of neuroscience, as well as as a surgeon. Does that make the loss worse? I guess in the end that's just not a useful way of thinking. Who determines value, etc. Nevertheless, I'm certain his hospital and neuroscience as a whole are worse off without him, as is the literary world. And - as becomes clear at the end, so is his family. My thoughts go out to them.
I think what I'll try to take away from this novel is his drive and curiosity. He really wanted to do certain things and he gave it his all to do so every step of the way. I'll have to remind myself to live a little more daringly, too. To remain curious and, above all, passionate.
This has to be one of my worst reviews yet, especially in terms of coherency, but finally I want to share a few quotes that I loved:
"Anatomy lab, in the end, becomes less a violation of the sacred and more something that interferes with happy hour, and that realization discomfits. In our rare reflective moments, we are all silently apologising to our cadavers, not because we sensed the transgression but because we did not"
"We all have a notion of what it means to be good, and we can't live up to it all the time"
"I plod, I ponder. Some days, I simply persist"
Content Warnings
Moderate: Terminal illness, Death, Medical content, and Cancer
Minor: Suicide