It took multiple efforts to keep picking up this book to finish it. While the author obviously researched an immense amount of information, I felt there was a failure to truly connect the observations she made with the philosophical conclusions. Of consideration, maybe impossible at the time, partly obscured due to the diagnosis of her own mother. The book seemed more of an exploratory journal - of the journey of her acceptance of her mother’s demise. Along with the author, I’m also fascinated with how our brain works (or doesn’t). While the author attributes thinking and discoveries appropriately, like references to the work of Oliver Sacks and others, the explorations left me without any solid conclusions. Perhaps, that’s the point. We are interesting creatures. I wish the book was presented either as a scientific inquiry or a memoir. Because I know a little French, the multiple inferences were appropriate, adding a flowery air to the ‘art’ of her efforts. So, while I appreciate what feels like a mix of all the author is and knows, it seemed ‘off mark’ somehow which was disappointing. I can relate to trying to piece things together. My father-in-law is also experiencing Alzheimer’s - it’s a mystery, it’s a discovery, and it’s devastating and beautiful at the same time.