I think everyone will find something to relate to in this book. There will be one (or more) stories you will find meshes with your own approach to life and death, and there will be one (or more) stories that are completely antithetical to you.

No matter what, the stories are presented in a way that is completely factual but still provides a great deal of insight. I though the author did an amazing job of presenting the stories in a very personal way without putting herself between the reader and the subject. ( )

In this interesting collection, Roiphe pieces together the final days of 5 writers: Susan Sontag, Sigmund Freud, John Updike, Dylan Thomas and Maurice Sendak. Using original sources, letters, interviews and other impressive, exhaustive research she is able to paint a portrait of each writer's "final descent." Also included is a black and white photograph of each writer's office/work-space, which is a nice touch. Because it is all second-hand information, (except for James Salter in the epilogue, who is still a robust 89 and not anticipating death, whom Roiphe speaks to herself), sometimes the narrative is a little clunky, trying to make the pieces fit. For the most part though, it is an eloquent homage to both the life each artist lived and the death they faced. There are some beautiful lines here from Roiphe herself who is no stranger to the concept of death, having had a sickly childhood and other health set-backs as an adult, and the original words of her case-studies both in their published works and their private reflections resonate and ultimately comfort. Death is the only sure thing in life and though each had a different circumstance and approach (Sontag: relentless cancer treatment; Freud: no painkillers; Updike: published essentially from his hospital bed) they each have something worthwhile to impart. Kudos to Roiphe for tackling a difficult, often taboo subject in a respectful, enlightening way. Her commentary after the last author: "This seems to be key: staring into something you have always been terrified of and finding it beautiful." (247) ( )

Roiphe's writing is compulsive, lyrical, spare. Also helped me get Final Jeopardy! right as I watched last night. Highly recommended. ( )

Being, ostensibly, a description of the last weeks of five authors, with a concluding interview with a very aged novelist. All are well-known if one includes the final subject, of whom I had not heard, but to whom she attributes skill and considerable renown.. This book is fairly interesting in the fleeting moments when it stays on topic. For the most part, however, it's a book of tangents: pop psychology (e.g., Sigmund Freud's love of his cigar) and literary criticism (e.g., Jno. Updike's oversexed protagonists) abound. The book also has a longish introductory chapter in which the author describes a serious childhood illness which she experienced, though, confusingly, she begins it with a quotation from another, whom I assumed was having the illness. However, it only took me five or six pages before I realized that she was talking about herself. Even less promisingly, in this chapter especially, when she began enumerating attitudes which "everybody" holds about death, it would be difficult for me to imagine a series of propositions from which I feel more alienation. Nonetheless, when she gets down to business, it's a worthwhile read. ( )

I enjoyed the beginning and end of the book where the author wrote of her personal experience, but was sadly disappointed in the writing of the main body (five "great" writers) of this book. The feeling persisted that the author had a stack of index cards from her copious research and just plopped them down in some sort of chronological order. And the name dropping! Apparently for the sin of not cooperating with this book, poor Annie Leibovitz was identified ad nauseam. ( )