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walkitoutThis was the Mayberry, NH (<-- not its real name) book club selection for February. We all thought it was quite good, and it spawned fairly good discussion as well. Schwalbe has a very brick-by-brick style of writing: a lot of details, and it seems a bit dull and mundane, until you realize (duh, kinda Buddhist) that that really is what life is, the details.
Does the world need another description of a bunch of books? Always! Does the world need another paean to a mother by an adult gay son? Sure! I could wish Mom hadn't had such a deep commitment to Not Dying and more Acceptance, but she really isn't that kind of person and that made her an amazing force for good. I could wish that her son showed a better understanding of the deep pain that she caused him (not on purpose), but he probably has enough trouble experiencing it, and it came through pretty clearly anyway. For a book that revolves around literary fiction and palliative oncology -- two things I don't much care for -- it was absolutely incredible. And a good read regardless. YMMV.
Also, we learn that if you want to actually get through Thomas Mann's _Joseph and His Brothers_, ritalin really helps. Explains a lot, actually.
Does the world need another description of a bunch of books? Always! Does the world need another paean to a mother by an adult gay son? Sure! I could wish Mom hadn't had such a deep commitment to Not Dying and more Acceptance, but she really isn't that kind of person and that made her an amazing force for good. I could wish that her son showed a better understanding of the deep pain that she caused him (not on purpose), but he probably has enough trouble experiencing it, and it came through pretty clearly anyway. For a book that revolves around literary fiction and palliative oncology -- two things I don't much care for -- it was absolutely incredible. And a good read regardless. YMMV.
Also, we learn that if you want to actually get through Thomas Mann's _Joseph and His Brothers_, ritalin really helps. Explains a lot, actually.