Thorndike Press large print popular and narrative nonfiction
Paul Kalanithi: When breath becomes air (2016)
241 pages
English language
Published July 29, 2016
At the age of 36, on the verge of a completing a decade's worth of training as a neurosurgeon, Paul Kalanithi's health began to falter. He started losing weight and was wracked by waves of excruciating back pain. A CT scan confirmed what Paul, deep down, had suspected: he had stage four lung cancer, widely disseminated. One day, he was a doctor making a living treating the dying, and the next, he was a patient struggling to live. Just like that, the future he and his wife had imagined, the culmination of decades of striving, evaporated. Breath Becomes Air approaches the questions raised by facing mortality from the dual perspective of the neurosurgeon who spent a decade meeting patients in the twilight between life and death, and the terminally ill patient who suddenly found himself living in that liminality. At the base of Paul's inquiry are essential questions such as: …
At the age of 36, on the verge of a completing a decade's worth of training as a neurosurgeon, Paul Kalanithi's health began to falter. He started losing weight and was wracked by waves of excruciating back pain. A CT scan confirmed what Paul, deep down, had suspected: he had stage four lung cancer, widely disseminated. One day, he was a doctor making a living treating the dying, and the next, he was a patient struggling to live. Just like that, the future he and his wife had imagined, the culmination of decades of striving, evaporated. Breath Becomes Air approaches the questions raised by facing mortality from the dual perspective of the neurosurgeon who spent a decade meeting patients in the twilight between life and death, and the terminally ill patient who suddenly found himself living in that liminality. At the base of Paul's inquiry are essential questions such as: What makes life worth living in the face of death? What happens when the future, instead of being a ladder toward the goals of life, flattens out into a perpetual present? When faced with a terminal diagnosis, what does it mean to have a child, to nurture a new life as another one fades away? As Paul wrote, "Before my cancer was diagnosed, I knew that someday I would die, but I didn't know when. After the diagnosis, I knew that someday I would die, but I didn't know when. But now I knew it acutely. The problem wasn't really a scientific one. The fact of death is unsettling. Yet there is no other way to live." Paul Kalanithi passed away in March 2015, while working on this book.
My first memoir and hopefully won’t be the last. Paul’s journey resonated strongly with me. His clear voice was accompanied by his sincere pursuit of meaning in this short wordly life. The book was poignant but lovely at the same time. Touched my heart throughout the entire read. Particularly the epilogue written by Paul’s wife Lucy. I would recommend this book for anyone who is searching meaning in their life.
I admit to being conflicted about this book. I really wanted to love this book, after all, it had gotten stellar media reviews, yet, when I started reading the book, my feelings bubbled to the surface.
I mean, what’s not to “love” a book about a dying neurosurgeon who took the time to chronicle is journey from being doctor to patient.
Yet, as I trudged towards the end of the book, I found myself not enjoying the book and wondered why.
After careful consideration, I realized it was because this wasn’t the kind of book I’d read previously where a doctor (or patient) chronicles their journeys and reader me was taken along for the ride. Instead, When Breath Becomes Air was more of a metaphysical, philosophical journey and one I really wasn’t interested in taking.
Paul Kalanithi’s background as a writer and philosopher permeated the prose as he wrote about …
I admit to being conflicted about this book. I really wanted to love this book, after all, it had gotten stellar media reviews, yet, when I started reading the book, my feelings bubbled to the surface.
I mean, what’s not to “love” a book about a dying neurosurgeon who took the time to chronicle is journey from being doctor to patient.
Yet, as I trudged towards the end of the book, I found myself not enjoying the book and wondered why.
After careful consideration, I realized it was because this wasn’t the kind of book I’d read previously where a doctor (or patient) chronicles their journeys and reader me was taken along for the ride. Instead, When Breath Becomes Air was more of a metaphysical, philosophical journey and one I really wasn’t interested in taking.
Paul Kalanithi’s background as a writer and philosopher permeated the prose as he wrote about his journey with cancer. Having really not enjoyed philosophy and literature courses in college, I really couldn’t relate. In fact, I thought the best part of the book was his wife Lucy’s continuation of the narrative after Paul died.
Having said all this, I am glad to have read this book, but it’s not a book I’m likely to read again.
I recommend this book for those who are interested in the journey of a doctor who becomes patient interlaced with the philosophy of life and death.
Rating: 4.0 stars.
This is how you know a book or a work of literature is powerful:
- Pick a book about a man who is diagnosed with cancer, a book that, you know, is by an author who dies.
- Read the book only to become attached to the writer. Not only because he tells things, but the way he does tell them. Because he ponders about his work, about life and death, things that, maybe, you gave some thought before, or because the things he says are, well, fair. The fairness in the way a med doctor works, the kind of life they live; the kind of things they are responsible for: their patients, their wellness and the heavy burden of not affecting the lives of those around them.
- Reach the last page and take a big breath. Consider the title of the book. Think about it.
- Go to …
This is how you know a book or a work of literature is powerful:
- Pick a book about a man who is diagnosed with cancer, a book that, you know, is by an author who dies.
- Read the book only to become attached to the writer. Not only because he tells things, but the way he does tell them. Because he ponders about his work, about life and death, things that, maybe, you gave some thought before, or because the things he says are, well, fair. The fairness in the way a med doctor works, the kind of life they live; the kind of things they are responsible for: their patients, their wellness and the heavy burden of not affecting the lives of those around them.
- Reach the last page and take a big breath. Consider the title of the book. Think about it.
- Go to the epilogue. Feel the profound sadness of a person who is dying (who knows is gonna die, who you know has died), the recount of his last few days.
- Cry, maybe. It is optional.
It is a powerful essay about who we are, and why we do things. About our plans, our capabilities. About the lack of touch of those who get used to the dying, to the sick. And the thing that makes us strive for: it is, also, about love. Not romantic love, but the links between people.
It is short. You should read it anyway.
