
Simmons was diagnosed with ALS and the entire time I was reading the book I was aware that the disease had very likely already taken its toll on his life. When he describes the inevitability of his being unable to feed himself, there is a certain sympathy I inevitably feel because I remember how dreadfully frightened I was of what the vertigo signified and how far my degeneration might go. However, I was reading it after I was assured that it would not be as bad as some of the threatened diseases (MS, among others) might have been.
These essays are nice but they lack the humor and vulnerability of Lamott’s Grace Eventually. Nor was it as clearly organized as Eat Pray Love. So in the end, I felt a little let down by the book. I loved the idea of the book, the idea of falling, of living with the grace of imperfection. I think I would have learned more from this book if I had not already lived through so much of it, if I were younger or less experience or something. And I almost feel guilty for not feeling more attuned to Simmons and his experience, for not wanting to rave about the book. Truthfully, it is not a bad read. It’s just not a great one. *shrug*
These essays are nice but they lack the humor and vulnerability of Lamott’s Grace Eventually. Nor was it as clearly organized as Eat Pray Love. So in the end, I felt a little let down by the book. I loved the idea of the book, the idea of falling, of living with the grace of imperfection. I think I would have learned more from this book if I had not already lived through so much of it, if I were younger or less experience or something. And I almost feel guilty for not feeling more attuned to Simmons and his experience, for not wanting to rave about the book. Truthfully, it is not a bad read. It’s just not a great one. *shrug*