eBook
Icelandic language
Published March 17, 2017 by Vaka-Helgafell.
Paul Kalanithi var aðeins þrjátíu og sex ára og að ljúka námi í taugaskurðlækningum þegar hann greindist með fjórða stigs lungnakrabbamein. Hann var farsæll læknir sem glímdi við banvæna sjúkdóma hjá skjólstæðingum sínum en var svo allt í einu settur í stöðu þeirra sjálfur.
Hvað gerir lífið þess virði að lifa því? Hvað gerir maður þegar fótunum er kippt undan tilverunni? Þessar og fleiri spurningar glímdi Kalanithi við í dauðastríði sínu og miðlar með einstökum hætti í þessari áhrifaríku bók.
Andartak eilífðar er ógleymanlegur vitnisburður um lífslöngunina andspænis dauðanum, og einlæg frásögn um samskipti læknis og skjólstæðings eftir mann sem var hvort tveggja.
Andartak eilífðar var valin meðal bóka ársins af Washington Post, The New York Times og NPR.
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.
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.
