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MEMOIRS

A memoir, rich as a Rockefeller, that should fire up historians, pundits, and commentators: every page raises unanswered...

Mild-mannered plutocrat recalls some excellent adventures in a temperate, often candid text.

Born 87 years ago in the largest private house in New York, Rockefeller evinces much respect for grandfather John D., the muckrakers’ perennial target. (“It was a different world then,” he writes of Standard Oil’s monopolistic practices.) Father John Jr., an earnest philanthropist with whom David exchanged letters even while they were in the same house, earned even more respect from his son who, ever mindful of his responsibilities, studied assiduously at Harvard and the London School of Economics. After wartime service as an intelligence officer and a stint as acolyte to Mayor LaGuardia, David became a banker and for a while rode the subway daily to Chase Bank—never owned or controlled by the family, he asserts, though Father was its largest shareholder. Much of this account deals with David’s career at Chase, which he transformed into an international presence. Credit him with reviving downtown Manhattan through the construction of Chase Plaza. From his 17th-floor office there or in Rockefeller Center’s Room 5600, he dealt with the world’s movers and shakers, networking at the highest levels in Russia, China, Latin America, and the Middle East. Though never seeking or accepting public office, Rockefeller founded and served on numerous boards and agencies. He did indeed start the Trilateral Commission, enlisting Zbigniew Brzezinski, Jimmy Carter, and others; conspiracy theorists may make what they will of his admission to being an “internationalist.” Also discussed: Rockefeller Center’s short tenure with Japanese owners, the work of the Rockefeller Brothers Fund, diverse siblings (big brother Nelson emerges as a charismatic bully), and the troublesome younger generation. His lengthy text is perhaps self-serving, but such is the nature of autobiography.

A memoir, rich as a Rockefeller, that should fire up historians, pundits, and commentators: every page raises unanswered questions about a remarkable life. (Photo insert, not seen)

Pub Date: Oct. 22, 2002

ISBN: 0-679-40588-7

Page Count: 784

Publisher: Random House

Review Posted Online: June 24, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 15, 2002

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NIGHT

The author's youthfulness helps to assure the inevitable comparison with the Anne Frank diary although over and above the...

Elie Wiesel spent his early years in a small Transylvanian town as one of four children. 

He was the only one of the family to survive what Francois Maurois, in his introduction, calls the "human holocaust" of the persecution of the Jews, which began with the restrictions, the singularization of the yellow star, the enclosure within the ghetto, and went on to the mass deportations to the ovens of Auschwitz and Buchenwald. There are unforgettable and horrifying scenes here in this spare and sombre memoir of this experience of the hanging of a child, of his first farewell with his father who leaves him an inheritance of a knife and a spoon, and of his last goodbye at Buchenwald his father's corpse is already cold let alone the long months of survival under unconscionable conditions. 

The author's youthfulness helps to assure the inevitable comparison with the Anne Frank diary although over and above the sphere of suffering shared, and in this case extended to the death march itself, there is no spiritual or emotional legacy here to offset any reader reluctance.

Pub Date: Jan. 16, 2006

ISBN: 0374500010

Page Count: 120

Publisher: Hill & Wang

Review Posted Online: Oct. 7, 2011

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 15, 2006

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WHEN BREATH BECOMES AIR

A moving meditation on mortality by a gifted writer whose dual perspectives of physician and patient provide a singular...

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A neurosurgeon with a passion for literature tragically finds his perfect subject after his diagnosis of terminal lung cancer.

Writing isn’t brain surgery, but it’s rare when someone adept at the latter is also so accomplished at the former. Searching for meaning and purpose in his life, Kalanithi pursued a doctorate in literature and had felt certain that he wouldn’t enter the field of medicine, in which his father and other members of his family excelled. “But I couldn’t let go of the question,” he writes, after realizing that his goals “didn’t quite fit in an English department.” “Where did biology, morality, literature and philosophy intersect?” So he decided to set aside his doctoral dissertation and belatedly prepare for medical school, which “would allow me a chance to find answers that are not in books, to find a different sort of sublime, to forge relationships with the suffering, and to keep following the question of what makes human life meaningful, even in the face of death and decay.” The author’s empathy undoubtedly made him an exceptional doctor, and the precision of his prose—as well as the moral purpose underscoring it—suggests that he could have written a good book on any subject he chose. Part of what makes this book so essential is the fact that it was written under a death sentence following the diagnosis that upended his life, just as he was preparing to end his residency and attract offers at the top of his profession. Kalanithi learned he might have 10 years to live or perhaps five. Should he return to neurosurgery (he could and did), or should he write (he also did)? Should he and his wife have a baby? They did, eight months before he died, which was less than two years after the original diagnosis. “The fact of death is unsettling,” he understates. “Yet there is no other way to live.”

A moving meditation on mortality by a gifted writer whose dual perspectives of physician and patient provide a singular clarity.

Pub Date: Jan. 19, 2016

ISBN: 978-0-8129-8840-6

Page Count: 248

Publisher: Random House

Review Posted Online: Sept. 29, 2015

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 15, 2015

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