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I AM SPOCK

A disappointingly ordinary memoir by an extraordinary actor. A new book by Nimoy, the originator of the popular character Mr. Spock, promises to be a welcome addition to a Trekker's library. Sadly, while Nimoy the actor rarely gives an uninteresting or tedious performance, Nimoy the author has written a workmanlike but prosaic account that leaves the reader wondering what he might have said had he not been so seemingly eager to avoid both controversy and complexity. In fact, Nimoy apologizes for his more controversial 1975 memoir, I Am Not Spock: ``That was just a play of words, ideas. I was just trying to find a way to come to terms and explain . . . us. Our relationship. Did you feel rejected? I'm sorry,'' Nimoy says to Spock, with whom he has periodic conversations throughout the book. Most of Nimoy's numerous anecdotes here add little to Trek lore. More informative are his chapters describing unrelated projects such as the films Three Men and a Baby and The Good Mother, both of which Nimoy directed. His prose is chatty, banal, and prone to hyperbole. For instance, he describes Trek's writer-producer Gene Coon as ``the kind of person who didn't parade his amazing accomplishmentshe just simply did the impossible, and did it well.'' Indeed, every actor, writer, producer, and technician with whom Nimoy worked was ``amazing,'' ``brilliant,'' and ``wonderful.'' He glosses over the bitter feelings and internecine squabbling vividly described in other Trek books, calling into question the exactness of his reminiscences. Unlike William Shatner's writings, with their annoying yet oddly engaging egomania, and George Takei's expression of heartfelt outrage, I Am Spock lacks a sense of Nimoy's personality. It has no oomph. (Author tour)

Pub Date: Oct. 26, 1995

ISBN: 0-7868-6182-7

Page Count: 320

Publisher: Hyperion

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 15, 1995

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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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