Take a photo of a barcode or cover
3.96 AVERAGE
3.96 AVERAGE
I wanted to read this because I think he is just a fantastic writer. I listened to it - which was fine. But in a way I wish I had a hard copy of the book to re-read and savor some of the beautiful passages.
I love to read Frank Bruni’s NY Times pieces, and truly enjoyed the first half of this book. I kind of lost interest after the chapters seemed to deal more with his love and dogs and his own dog. After that I skimmed to the end.
This feels like a good essay that was placed on a torture rack until it became a book.
If you've not read Frank Bruni's work before go Google his NYTimes Op-Eds or his other titles and get to it. You'll want to after reading this latest offering from him. Frank crafts words in the most beautiful, most moving, most profound of ways. But he is not high and mighty about it, he is in fact so down to earth if you met him on the street you would not know how accomplished he is. He is a lovely man (and you may be thinking, Beth, why are you talking about him as if you know him? Aren't you just assuming this about Mr. Bruni? Actually, NO. I'm not. I have had the good fortune to meet him and speak with him a time or two at those big family functions he sometimes writes about as we have someone in the Bruni family in common, she is also part of my family.) Moving on...
To summarize, which will sound just like the summaries already out there, in late 2017 Frank woke up one morning with a blurry eye. Assuming, as any of us would, that it was due to a night of drinking with friends, exhaustion, allergies, or some meaningless-will-go-away-by-noon thing Frank didn't think much of it. Until it persisted beyond noon and beyond the evening and into the next day and maybe was getting worse. He asked to see his eye doctor on a Sunday and the doctor agreed. A couple of HOURS later the Doctor was referring Frank to a specialist and was uncertain about what was going on with Frank's eye. Frank had unknowingly entered into a whole new world of tests, injections, special accommodations, clinical trials, compensations, and adjustments. He was going blind in the blurry eye and quite possibly could go blind in the other, rendering him completely blind. Faced with this unexpected chapter in the book of his life, Bruni embraces the process as much as one can.
This memoir is the result of that time. You may notice I didn't give it a rating. I sometimes rate memoirs, I sometimes don't. I'm frustratingly inconsistent with them. I didn't rate this one because I couldn't come up with a rating that felt...right. But I really appreciated this story of Bruni's. I mean, we've already established that the man can write wonderfully and beautifully, so there's that. But then how he chose to weave his story of going blind into all the other things going on in his life was very moving and intimate. He also gave voice to other stories from other people who have experienced hard things and how they have become inspirations to themselves, the people in their lives, and the public at large. Frank is a journalist and how he gives voice to those people and their stories displays that talent. And make no mistake, there are journalists and then there are journalists. Frank is not just a journalist, he is exceptional at that craft. He shares lessons he is learning through his own experience and he shares lessons others have learned and shared that have helped him and he believes can help all of us, regardless of any physical impairment or other hardship we might encounter.
Sidenote: one of the chapters in this beautiful book is Frank giving an "ode" of sorts to both Central Park and dogs - both of which I also love. Ironically, for much of the chapter gushing about Central Park, I was walking back and forth across it from the Upper East Side to the Upper West Side visiting family on both sides of the park. And it was spring and the park was blooming and people were walking their dogs and Frank was gushing about it and I was breathing it in and it was quite simply life-giving and lovely.
To summarize, which will sound just like the summaries already out there, in late 2017 Frank woke up one morning with a blurry eye. Assuming, as any of us would, that it was due to a night of drinking with friends, exhaustion, allergies, or some meaningless-will-go-away-by-noon thing Frank didn't think much of it. Until it persisted beyond noon and beyond the evening and into the next day and maybe was getting worse. He asked to see his eye doctor on a Sunday and the doctor agreed. A couple of HOURS later the Doctor was referring Frank to a specialist and was uncertain about what was going on with Frank's eye. Frank had unknowingly entered into a whole new world of tests, injections, special accommodations, clinical trials, compensations, and adjustments. He was going blind in the blurry eye and quite possibly could go blind in the other, rendering him completely blind. Faced with this unexpected chapter in the book of his life, Bruni embraces the process as much as one can.
This memoir is the result of that time. You may notice I didn't give it a rating. I sometimes rate memoirs, I sometimes don't. I'm frustratingly inconsistent with them. I didn't rate this one because I couldn't come up with a rating that felt...right. But I really appreciated this story of Bruni's. I mean, we've already established that the man can write wonderfully and beautifully, so there's that. But then how he chose to weave his story of going blind into all the other things going on in his life was very moving and intimate. He also gave voice to other stories from other people who have experienced hard things and how they have become inspirations to themselves, the people in their lives, and the public at large. Frank is a journalist and how he gives voice to those people and their stories displays that talent. And make no mistake, there are journalists and then there are journalists. Frank is not just a journalist, he is exceptional at that craft. He shares lessons he is learning through his own experience and he shares lessons others have learned and shared that have helped him and he believes can help all of us, regardless of any physical impairment or other hardship we might encounter.
Sidenote: one of the chapters in this beautiful book is Frank giving an "ode" of sorts to both Central Park and dogs - both of which I also love. Ironically, for much of the chapter gushing about Central Park, I was walking back and forth across it from the Upper East Side to the Upper West Side visiting family on both sides of the park. And it was spring and the park was blooming and people were walking their dogs and Frank was gushing about it and I was breathing it in and it was quite simply life-giving and lovely.
I found this book profoundly thought-provoking and moving. It’s uneven: Bruno’s meditations on his own experience of losing sight were far more compelling than his accounts of others who had lost physical capacity (though those were moving, they didn’t have the same power). But this is a beautiful exploration of what it means to live a full life and a gratitude practice on Bruno’s part.
funny
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
sad
medium-paced
I was enamored by Frank Bruni and his story from the first paragraph:
"They say that death comes like a thief in the night. Lesser vandals have the same MO. The affliction that stole my vision, or at least a big chunk of it, did so as I slept. I went to bed seeing the world one way. I woke up seeing it another."
Bruni writes about his journey through vision loss, the terror of being fine one day and not the next, the stressful course of learning what's wrong with him, and then what happens after in this beautiful memoir of sorts. But he doesn't only tell his story. He shares the stories of many others who are chronically ill or impaired in some way. He takes such care in the way he discusses these events. I felt seen in Bruni's writing and appreciated the different angles from which he came at this topic. This is a beautiful book and I'm a better person for having read it.
"They say that death comes like a thief in the night. Lesser vandals have the same MO. The affliction that stole my vision, or at least a big chunk of it, did so as I slept. I went to bed seeing the world one way. I woke up seeing it another."
Bruni writes about his journey through vision loss, the terror of being fine one day and not the next, the stressful course of learning what's wrong with him, and then what happens after in this beautiful memoir of sorts. But he doesn't only tell his story. He shares the stories of many others who are chronically ill or impaired in some way. He takes such care in the way he discusses these events. I felt seen in Bruni's writing and appreciated the different angles from which he came at this topic. This is a beautiful book and I'm a better person for having read it.
A thoughtful and treasured gift from my oldest friend. Bruni, too, with his warm and straightforward style, feels like an old friend who has much wisdom to share.
This is what I was expecting from [b:Notes on Blindness: A Journey through the Dark|33556893|Notes on Blindness A Journey through the Dark|John M. Hull|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1482582882l/33556893._SY75_.jpg|54335102] and I found it much more satisfying.