I thought this was way overhyped. Summary: guy tries to get as close to death as possible, achieves this goal. Dies. 

In seriousness, I didn’t like the author at all. I cried at the end because of course death is terrible, but this was out of no love for him. He seemed to have a lot of self-importance that was tied to his work. I’m very grateful for medicine, but this kind of arrogance- that which declares medical treatment to be the greatest of all treatment, or at least doctors the best givers of care there are- is dangerous and absurd. It’s like if Jack from Lost wrote a book. I know plenty of people like this author, and none of them are happy and I wouldn’t take seriously any philosophical treatises of theirs, either.

And I’m not going to make a habit of picking apart the prose of a man writing through his last year, so I have nothing to say about the writing itself. 

I actually liked the epilogue a lot, written by the author’s wife. She says there’s a lot he didn’t convey about himself and his values in the book, and honestly I really appreciated that. Her notes, and the pain and hurt in them, really gave another dimension to what would have otherwise been an uninteresting read. 

Of course you begin knowing the end. Dr Paul Kalanithi dies. This account, both unfinished and finished (depending on the sense you mean) is a deeply introspective reflection on life, meaning and death from someone who has been acutely attuned. The brief memoir focuses on Kalanithi's dual relationship with life and death as a doctor and as a patient, and underlying that, we see our own deepest existential fears reflected back in his humanity. Freshly diagnosed, it is Kalanithi's instinct to ensure the futures of those around him, though he himself is unsure of his present. Most of us are not dying of severe illness, but all of us will wonder what our lives can mean, what it should mean. Kalanithi grapples with increasing urgency, his own truth about what makes life meaningful, and it is this frenetic energy that is so calmly tempered by clarity and authority that is striking. No doubt the dying are suffering, but Kalanithi doesn't dwell so long. In a way, the brevity of the book brings to the fore what Kalanithi most wanted to say, and largely these were philosophical things. I think the foreword by Dr Abraham Verghese should be skipped and unread entirely, and I think the epilogue written by his wife, Dr Lucy Kalanithi was illuminating. After finishing Paul Kalanithi's meditative words, his clarity is softened by the bookend that is his wife's epilogue. We can only guess of Paul Kalanithi's contributions to neuroscience had he lived, but we already know of the contributions he has made. It is possible to live while dying.