WHEN BREATH
BECOMES AIR
-Paul Kalanithi
136
I
never thought that a non-�ction
work of literature that doesn’t lead to
the development of any skill set
would pique my interest. is one,
despite having philosophical undertones
took my breath away. e fact that half of
it �ows like a bildungsroman leading to a
meritorious overachiever at the cusp of
achieving greatness may make it
relatable to many of us in the medical
fraternity. And then the Greek tragedy
strikes. All the reviews, book-discussion
forums, and chat rooms seem to suggest
it being a story of a man, on verge of
completion of a decade-long training in a
profession most frequently associated
with the development of a god complex;
who suddenly has to come to terms with
mortality. But to me, Paul Kalanithi
appears to be fascinated with the
questions dealing with the purpose of
life, and the meaning of death, long
before even starting his residency.
Perhaps he chose to be a neurosurgeon
seeking answers, or perhaps it was
memory alteration in hindsight. But his
death gave meaning to his life. He didn’t
go ‘try-it-all’/adventurous stuff before
moving into the tunnel of light, but his
bucket list comprised most of his pre-
existing long term plans which had to be
accelerated (including this book). is
was simultaneous with experimental
chemotherapy for stage IV lung cancer.
His masters in Lit is well re�ected in a
plethora of archaic words used in
comparison to the small volume of the
overall manuscript. While his wife’s
epilogue sounds so authentic and
heartfelt that you practically pass
through the stages of Kubler-ross along
the pages.
Reviewers say that Kalanithi’s
descriptive prose is deprived of self-pity.
I felt that the intellectualization, the
visual imagery, the perpetual sense of
irony (told or observed) are heart
wrenching enough to re�ect self-pity and
ignite empathy. A quick end is much more
merciful than a debilitating unreliable
time bomb. Anyone experienced in the
circumstances leading to the emotional
roller-coaster, the ambivalency, the
simultaneous hope and despair can
identify the ordeal one must endure in
such a state of bidirectional �ux. “I can’t
go on, I must go on”.
Nikhil Mehta
2891, Batch 2010