I abandoned this book. Got fifty pages in, and elected not to finish. This is a rare decision for me; I really dislike not finishing books. And I feel compelled to defend that decision, which was not easy to make.
This book is essentially a memoir by a person who has been diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's. As he wrote the book, he was in the "middle" stages of it.
I had a lot of reasons to read it: I work as an elder law attorney, and it's good for me to be better acquainted with what my clients often go through. My grandfather died of dementia, and it would be good to have greater insight into his life and the lives of his caregivers. Further, it's likely that I'll be a caregiver of someone with an illness like Alzheimer's in the future. I heard an interview with the author that was greatly intriguing. It's highly recommended by Lisa Genova, who's written a couple of books that I also greatly enjoyed.
Perhaps those reasons will one day impel me to pick up the book again.
Here are the reasons I put the book down:
1. The author repeats himself. As in, verbatim, used exactly the same sentence, cut and pasted, between the introduction/preface and early chapters (I cannot speak for later chapters, I only read about three or four). This happened more than once. It wasn't to make a point; it wasn't acknowledged, and honestly, the editor should have caught it. Why bother reading the preface and introduction when you're going to repeat it later? This was just frustrating.
2. The author gives numerous unnecessary details about a lot of things. As in, he's driving somewhere with his son or wife, and this section is about the conversation that they will have and the resulting emotional impact--but it's peppered with statistics, historical facts, and data about the bridge they drive on or the town they live in or something like that. If it had been done well, great. It wasn't done well. It was really and truly very distracting and made me feel extremely frustrated. This was probably the number one complaint I had, which really caused me to put down the book. I couldn't get immersed with this kind of non-related distracting data thrown in all the time. I believe this is also an editor problem. Books should flow.
3. I couldn't identify with the author. Three sub-parts:
a. I'm not a Baby Boomer. There's a lot of talk about Baby Boomers. This is a big part of where my own personal bias is kicking in. I don't really want to go into it in a book review, so this isn't a general comment, this is specific to me--his general generational self-pity for Boomers getting dementia didn't rub me the right way.
b. I'm also not Catholic, or Irish, or from the East Coast. The author is. I'm having a hard time articulating this, but here goes: there seemed to be some kind of privileged (right word??) assumption of an understanding of the culture. I don't have that understanding. I generally enjoy reading about other American sub-cultures, but you're going to have to at least attempt to explain it rather than just assume I know what you mean. This is especially difficult for a book review because, even though I read this yesterday, I can't think of any specific examples of what I mean. It was just a general feeling that seemed to be pretty pervasive to me. Somehow, rather than feeling invited into his world, I felt excluded from it because of our different (yet both white American!) cultural heritages.
c. I agreed with the author in the first chapter. He describes looking around a study or other personal room he uses, and says something about "this man" (himself) being kind of a "prick". And he goes on to describe all the things this man has done and the things he's written and people he knows and items he's collected that he finds worthy, with some awareness than he is a prick, but really, proud as shit of his stuff and what he's done. Interestingly, at some point he mentions that his wife is a journalist/was extremely interested in journalism in college when he met her, or something like that, but in the first fifty pages, I'd gotten a lot of information about how he was a great reporter and had done a lot, but ZERO information about her professional life, or, if it happens that she gave a lot of that up to raise their kids while he was this fantastic reporter, zero information regarding her own contributions to the family. And I found myself agreeing... yeah, I think this guy IS kind of a prick.
But I don't know him. And maybe I really just put down the book because I'm not ready for it yet. Or maybe the same type of book--a memoir by someone with Alzheimer's--would just go down better with me if I could identify more with the author--or if there was a better editor. Regardless of how much I liked or disliked the author, I think I would've finished it (it's only 200 pages) if the book had flow. I did not find that it did.