Good Reads
"The fact of death is unsettling. Yet there is no other way to live."
Paul Kalanithi's memoir When Breath Becomes Air should bring about a sense of despondency. After all, it was written by a dying man. On the contrary, it motivates readers into a kind of introspection that none indulges in unless forced by tragedy.
In 2013, Kalanithi, a thirty-six year old neurosurgical resident at Stanford, found that he had terminal lung cancer. And just like that, the linear progression of time toward his future goals evaporated. Gone was the dream catamaran on the sea with his wife Lucy and their hypothetical children. An idealistic planner by nature, Kalanithi found his life now plagued by uncertainties. There was no statistical timeline for his death, but he knew it was not far. The transition from doctor to patient created a profound identity crisis and as his health deteriorated, his heroic self image started to falter. Mortality became jarringly conspicuous in the struggle between human fear and medical acumen. But drawing inspiration from his love of Romantic poetry, his brilliant writing skills put words to paper, a form of legacy that others may benefit from.
Kalanithi is both eloquent and unsentimental in his exquisite observation of when life suddenly gets suspended in the present, braking the American obsession with goals and success. The book is a result of singular determination as the author persevered through chemotherapy and the gradual decline of his body, motivated by a ticking clock and feverishly writing. Yet the words seem to flow effortlessly, the phrases profoundly moving, capturing precious moments while mortality relentlessly catches up. It's an intimate and unforgettable reflection on the challenge of facing death.