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I owe Christopher Hitchens. His writing is clear and visceral. He was an inspiration to anyone who felt bullied into following the norm. Hitch (and a few others) were the driving force behind a lot of my writings and my love of non-fiction. Before reading further, you should know a little about Hitch. His true field was journalism and his writing kept that ethos in tact until his last moments. His polemic nature made people hate him but respect him and granted, not everyone saw the appeal of his antagonistic writing, he made you think and could get a rise out of even the most solemn man. He was an outspoken critic of politics and religion. A self-described anti-theist, he debated nonstop in hopes to shed light on falsehoods and controversies. That said, here's my disclaimer: Hitchens is not for everyone.
This book chronicles Hitchens' diagnosis of esophageal cancer and the subsequent writings that stemmed from his diagnosis. Rarely do you get an author of such magnitude able to write knowing that the end is so near. Some things are borrowed from other Hitchens works, but if you've never read (and you should), you'll be able to see it within the context of the overall book.
It's hard. It's hard for one who has never read Hitchens in that you'll be enamored with his mastery of language and angry at yourself for not knowing about his bibliography beforehand. It's hard for those that have read Hitchens previously because you'll notice another tone. A sometimes softer tone. He still, in his sardonic way, fights the good fight against those who refuse to acknowledge the failures of their beliefs, but there's the sense of end.
“To the dumb question ‘Why me?,’ ” he writes, “the cosmos barely bothers to return the reply: Why not?”
It's almost unfair to be this good at turning a phrase. On his cancer, he says:
"This alien can’t want anything; if it kills me it dies but it seems very single-minded and set in its purpose. No real irony here, though. Must take absolute care not to be self-pitying or self-centered.”
It's a short read, a powerful read, a worthwhile read for anyone. He drank, smoked, and lived life "burning the candle on both ends." But he lived. Whether it was attacking Al Sharpton on national television or shielding Salman Rushdie during the fatwa against him after The Satanic Verses, he kept his sense of self. He rubbed me the wrong way on many occasions and was terribly stubborn, but we lost him too soon. Those against him claim that the almighty robbed him of his voice with cancer of the throat. They evidently never read his writings, as his most prolific work (like Mortality) was inked on page after page of stinging verse and prose. If anyone truly wanted to rob him of his voice, they would have taken away hands- the pens and pencils- typewriters- computers. They would have taken away, slowly and painfully, his ability to put pen to paper. Even so, something tells me Hitchens would have found a way to speak.
This book chronicles Hitchens' diagnosis of esophageal cancer and the subsequent writings that stemmed from his diagnosis. Rarely do you get an author of such magnitude able to write knowing that the end is so near. Some things are borrowed from other Hitchens works, but if you've never read (and you should), you'll be able to see it within the context of the overall book.
It's hard. It's hard for one who has never read Hitchens in that you'll be enamored with his mastery of language and angry at yourself for not knowing about his bibliography beforehand. It's hard for those that have read Hitchens previously because you'll notice another tone. A sometimes softer tone. He still, in his sardonic way, fights the good fight against those who refuse to acknowledge the failures of their beliefs, but there's the sense of end.
“To the dumb question ‘Why me?,’ ” he writes, “the cosmos barely bothers to return the reply: Why not?”
It's almost unfair to be this good at turning a phrase. On his cancer, he says:
"This alien can’t want anything; if it kills me it dies but it seems very single-minded and set in its purpose. No real irony here, though. Must take absolute care not to be self-pitying or self-centered.”
It's a short read, a powerful read, a worthwhile read for anyone. He drank, smoked, and lived life "burning the candle on both ends." But he lived. Whether it was attacking Al Sharpton on national television or shielding Salman Rushdie during the fatwa against him after The Satanic Verses, he kept his sense of self. He rubbed me the wrong way on many occasions and was terribly stubborn, but we lost him too soon. Those against him claim that the almighty robbed him of his voice with cancer of the throat. They evidently never read his writings, as his most prolific work (like Mortality) was inked on page after page of stinging verse and prose. If anyone truly wanted to rob him of his voice, they would have taken away hands- the pens and pencils- typewriters- computers. They would have taken away, slowly and painfully, his ability to put pen to paper. Even so, something tells me Hitchens would have found a way to speak.
