Book Review: When Breath Becomes Air
A glimpse into Paul Kalanithi’s riveting memoir
I finished Paul Kalanithi’s When Breath Becomes Air in 2 days. I’m not unfamiliar with death. My uncle, dad, and grandmother died within a 9 month span in 2003–04. That experience was intimate. To spectate human decay and decline, prematurely, whether it be stage IV blood cancer in the case of my uncle, cirrhosis in the case of dad, or cardiac arrest with my grandmother, it felt as if a brutal force had stabbed through my version of reality, pulled me inside with it, and brought me to a newer, colder world. In this world, meaning and association dissipated in totality, and a biological order reigned supreme. Observing death, up close, cold-bloodedly running its course on beings whom I deemed creators of my universe taught me one thing; that amidst the immensity of the universe, human life is fragile. I’ve been a long believer in human potential, that through a system of morality, hard work, grit, courage, and perseverance, an individual can change their trajectory. This is my faith. And I reinforce this faith in my life relentlessly.
But, human potential, too, has its ceiling.
Even if you are perfect, the world isn’t. The secret is to know that the deck is stacked, that you will lose, that your judgment will slip, and yet still struggle to win. You can’t ever reach perfection, but you can believe in an asymptote toward which you are ceaselessly striving — Paul Kalanithi
Kalanithi’s curiosity with the meaning of life, even in the face of death, is unimaginably brave. Reading his chronicle takes me on a journey into the deepest layers of human existence. As I read, I am plunged into a beautiful world of human vulnerability where hope, fear, hunger, love, and all our natural impulses manifest in maximum authenticity. In his world, human vulnerability is felt, understood and expressed without corruption. I secretly hope for such a world. Discombobulating and tragic as it is in present day, I am aware that such hope can quickly turn into a socially isolating ideology.
So then, what I must learn from Paul Kalanithi? Upon finishing the book on a late Sunday evening, I hugged my wife. I thought of family. I contemplated the wonderful drama I am immersed in, one filled with questions, pursuits, and vanities of all sorts. I thought of human relationality, of the underlying bonds I create and nourish as I engine through life. Paul teaches me that it is here, in a togetherness, that we create subtle moments which stamp themselves in our memories, and emanate meaning.
Paul, as he wrote, was thinking in a different stratum from most. He wanted to be as close to life’s core question as one can be. As a neuroscientist and neurosurgeon, he transcended science to discover the ultimate truth. He thought that science, after all, was man-made, but the truth resided not in our scriptures, dogmas or philosophies, but in lived experience. I wonder what Paul experienced in his final moments. As his breath slowed, and his door closed, in the presence of his family, amidst love, what must he have thought, what must he have felt.
