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It lost something for me in the end. The beginning really grabbed hold and I was quickly engrossed, but then eventually less so. I was still an enjoyable read through the whole thing, but I might have preferred for it to end sooner. Each chapter just became more name drops and conversations with another person making it through a hardship. By the time I finished, I felt like I’d lost a bit of what I’d gotten out of the book earlier.
When writer Frank Bruni suddenly woke up with vision loss from a stroke in his eye, he wasn’t expecting all that he would gain.
While this “loss” (emphasis on the quotes) is the pivotal event of the book, it read more like a series of short stories all woven together by a common discovery by those who have experience life-altering changes; there is so much beauty to be found in the breakdown. Sometimes the breakdown is vision loss, sometimes it’s grief, sometimes it’s cognitive decline like in the case of Bruno’s own father living with dementia. Dusk looks different for all of us.
I love a good tangent and this book was a buffet of them: interviews with fascinating people like the blind architect, dance instructor and world explorer who have persisted and thrived despite vision loss, scientific dives into our brains’ wild ability to pivot and, my favorite, a series of anecdotes that cut the fluff of a deeper lesson and illustrate what it’s actually like to lose the senses we take for granted. I lost track of the times I looked up and though “Woah. I never considered that.” Like how, when going blind, you have to use your current stock of photographic memories as a catalog to refer back to to imagine the world, your loved ones and even yourself as if everyone’s age is sort of frozen in time.
One of my favorites asides was the chapter about how getting to know his recently-adopted dog, Regan, paralleled his own experiences of learning to live in the present and reevaluate what is actually needed to live a full life. Together, they slowly savored their days, one walking trail at a time, discovering the simplest beauty that was right there in Bruni’s backyard the entire time, before life forced him to slow down and bask in it. Being an unabashed dog lover who is constantly in awe of all that animals teach us, I could have read an entire book about this relationship between man and his best friend.
As a New York Times journalist of 25+ years and an esteemed journalism professor at Duke University, Frank Bruni has clearly already proven his writing chops many times over, but I will vouch for his storytelling anyway. The experiences of those he interviewed alongside his own is proof of our resilience that left me feeling hopeful and in awe of human resilience as I closed the book.
As one of his interviewees, esteemed Judge David Tatel who happens to be blind, put it, “Starfish regrow limbs. But that’s nothing compared to what humans do.”
Disclosure: I received an ARC of this book as part of a Goodreads giveaway (and am so thankful for that!).
While this “loss” (emphasis on the quotes) is the pivotal event of the book, it read more like a series of short stories all woven together by a common discovery by those who have experience life-altering changes; there is so much beauty to be found in the breakdown. Sometimes the breakdown is vision loss, sometimes it’s grief, sometimes it’s cognitive decline like in the case of Bruno’s own father living with dementia. Dusk looks different for all of us.
I love a good tangent and this book was a buffet of them: interviews with fascinating people like the blind architect, dance instructor and world explorer who have persisted and thrived despite vision loss, scientific dives into our brains’ wild ability to pivot and, my favorite, a series of anecdotes that cut the fluff of a deeper lesson and illustrate what it’s actually like to lose the senses we take for granted. I lost track of the times I looked up and though “Woah. I never considered that.” Like how, when going blind, you have to use your current stock of photographic memories as a catalog to refer back to to imagine the world, your loved ones and even yourself as if everyone’s age is sort of frozen in time.
One of my favorites asides was the chapter about how getting to know his recently-adopted dog, Regan, paralleled his own experiences of learning to live in the present and reevaluate what is actually needed to live a full life. Together, they slowly savored their days, one walking trail at a time, discovering the simplest beauty that was right there in Bruni’s backyard the entire time, before life forced him to slow down and bask in it. Being an unabashed dog lover who is constantly in awe of all that animals teach us, I could have read an entire book about this relationship between man and his best friend.
As a New York Times journalist of 25+ years and an esteemed journalism professor at Duke University, Frank Bruni has clearly already proven his writing chops many times over, but I will vouch for his storytelling anyway. The experiences of those he interviewed alongside his own is proof of our resilience that left me feeling hopeful and in awe of human resilience as I closed the book.
As one of his interviewees, esteemed Judge David Tatel who happens to be blind, put it, “Starfish regrow limbs. But that’s nothing compared to what humans do.”
Disclosure: I received an ARC of this book as part of a Goodreads giveaway (and am so thankful for that!).
I love this book! As a long time fan of his NYT columns, in this book, Bruni writes what is close to a meditation on his changed life and the others he interviews or knows, as they manage to supersede loss, tragedy, aging and the physical and mental challenges of life after difficult diagnoses. He details how he learned to handle his near blindness in the new dusk of his life through learning from others experiencing similar and difficult circumstances. Paralleling his age, the metaphor is deep and profound, he is an amazing writer and communicator, empathetic and authentic, an amazing read.
emotional
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
slow-paced
This was an exquisite account of what the process of adjustment to a different life looks like.
I really liked how he detailed the difficult position one is put in when dealing with someone else's hardship. Never quite knowing the precise right thing to say that can empower the other and not sound condescending - or uncaring. But having gone through pain or witnessing it in someone close sometimes makes it easier to relate to people who are struggling themselves. Makes us more humane.
As he quotes - "Life is learning how to deal with loss" - it helps to have some roadmaps of how others found their way.
I really liked how he detailed the difficult position one is put in when dealing with someone else's hardship. Never quite knowing the precise right thing to say that can empower the other and not sound condescending - or uncaring. But having gone through pain or witnessing it in someone close sometimes makes it easier to relate to people who are struggling themselves. Makes us more humane.
As he quotes - "Life is learning how to deal with loss" - it helps to have some roadmaps of how others found their way.
I was lucky enough to receive an ARC of this thanks to the publisher. Frank Bruni is an excellent short form columnist and his skill translates over to his latest book, focusing on grappling with newfound disability. This book covers Bruni's experience losing sight in one eye and also explores a number of other individuals who've dealt with disability.
I started skimming around 2/3rds of the way through it, realizing that I'd read enough, enjoyed most of it, but was ready to move on. I would have rather read a long article in the Atlantic covering the same thoughts more succinctly.
I love Frank Bruni’s writing and this story/investigation into self, aging, coming to terms with life’s circumstances was comforting and inspiring. He tells his story of dealing with adversity, but also shares the stories of others who have gone thru similar circumstances and how they’ve dealt. Right book at the right time.
This, my friends, is a good book. The only reason I gave it middling marks is that it is not exactly what I was looking for or needed at this juncture. As some of you already know, Frank suffered an ischemic event in his eye in 2017 which damaged his optic nerve and left him mostly blind in his right eye. Frank had a non-arteritic anterior ischemic optic neuropathy (NAION). I too had an ischemic event in my right eye last summer, except I had a CRAO — central retinal artery occlusion — which left me with a mostly dead retina and total blackness except for a tiny blurry pinhole 30° right of center. I bought the book hoping to learn how Frank learned to cope with this sudden-onset monocular vision and I DID learn that, in the first half of the book. The second half of the book is mostly advice on "attitude adjustment" after a life-changing illness or injury and how adversity often produces a centeredness that we don't often get from happier events. It's filled with stories of not just the visually impaired we meet in the first half, but more general stories of metamorphosis.
What I was looking for here was more condition-specific advice and less of a general pep talk. But this book has merit for anyone in middle age or elderhood that has a "condition" and is waiting for next shoe to drop.
What I was looking for here was more condition-specific advice and less of a general pep talk. But this book has merit for anyone in middle age or elderhood that has a "condition" and is waiting for next shoe to drop.