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A review by elly29
When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi
emotional
reflective
sad
fast-paced
2.0
Cancer stories aren't my cup of tea.
It's a sad thing when anyone gets cancer, and sadder still when it's someone so young and after so much work to become a neurosurgeon. I imagine working on this was cathartic, and there is a bittersweetness in this book's half-finished nature: it is unfinished because cancer cat Kalanithi's life short.
Se seemed to have spent a lot of time on his perfectionism; of course, cancer is messy and violently rips any chance at perfection, asymptotic though it may be, away. Some of his ideas were good: the relationship as vector for meaning, and that science is nothing without meaning superimposed onto it by human intellect. I liked the part about Christian religion offering mercy over justice, always, and redemption as a way to make up for falling short of being the best versions of ourselves that we can be. His final thoughts to his daughter were profoundly sweet and tender, and thank goodness for the Epilogue, which clarified much and wrapped the book up neatly.
I skipped his inclusion of details about his time in the anatomy laboratory, and some of the graphic details about surgeries.
I think Frankl's "Man's Search for Meaning" is a better read.
It's a sad thing when anyone gets cancer, and sadder still when it's someone so young and after so much work to become a neurosurgeon. I imagine working on this was cathartic, and there is a bittersweetness in this book's half-finished nature: it is unfinished because cancer cat Kalanithi's life short.
Se seemed to have spent a lot of time on his perfectionism; of course, cancer is messy and violently rips any chance at perfection, asymptotic though it may be, away. Some of his ideas were good: the relationship as vector for meaning, and that science is nothing without meaning superimposed onto it by human intellect. I liked the part about Christian religion offering mercy over justice, always, and redemption as a way to make up for falling short of being the best versions of ourselves that we can be. His final thoughts to his daughter were profoundly sweet and tender, and thank goodness for the Epilogue, which clarified much and wrapped the book up neatly.
I skipped his inclusion of details about his time in the anatomy laboratory, and some of the graphic details about surgeries.
I think Frankl's "Man's Search for Meaning" is a better read.
Content Warnings
Minor: Blood