Brookes, known for his mastery of the English language, turns an account of the death of his mother into a work hailed as literature by book critics, and as moving testimony of the value of hospice care by leaders of the hospice movement.
I was born in England to parents who were poor, honest, and loved nothing more than going for long walks, preferably in the rain. My education consisted of being forced to take written exams every five or six weeks, and eat school lunches of liver and onions-until I got to Oxford, where we had written exams every eight weeks and had lunches of pickled onions and Guinness. This was quite enough to make me flee the country and seek gainful employment in Vermont, where I have lived for 24 years, writing a great deal, playing the guitar, carving endangered alphabets, and trying to grow good raspberries.
I love Brookes' style -- her's very no-nonsense British, but he has the added insight of a writer and one whose mother is dying. I thought it would be more about hospice per se, but that's sort of tangential to the whole death story and allusions to his family dynamics, which I would have liked to hear more about.
This book was okay. I guess I was expecting more emotion but that is not what British authors do maybe. It was a little too much on the "explaining" side of medical issues and hospice issues and not enough of what he and his family were feeling. However, I did appreciate his support of hospice and the sharing of his family's most difficult moments, especially words from his mom.