When Breath Becomes Air Review

Why was I so captivated by When Breath Becomes Air? Paul had something that I wanted.

Having bought this book over a year ago, I always put off reading it; somewhere in my mind, I wondered if I was ever even going to pick it up. If anything, many philosophical books and contemporary authors have wrestled with the question of “what makes life worth living?” Instead of arousing interest, books dealing with this topic simply seem hackneyed to me now. I expected Paul to go off explaining meaning like any other author would, as well as propel the popular modern trend of “purpose within yourself” or “purpose in happiness”. Why would I enjoy reading over and over again works that exhort man to find purpose without God?

I was caught off guard.

As I said, Paul had something I wanted. It was the voice throughout which he wrote this book: the stable spirit that is neither disillusioned or overtly emotional (which often appears when dealing with death like this). How can steadiness coexist with chaos and the sense of being lost? Without a shadow of a doubt, it had to be Paul, the neurosurgeon, to write like this. The honesty with which he conveyed everything and the stability in each sentence, despite having acknowledged uncertainty and anger, separates him from others who dealt with the subject of chronic illness. As an individual often ruled by my emotions, I covet this voice.

Above everything, Part 1 of the book played the key role in establishing this voice. First as a literature major, then going on to discover his calling of surgery, Paul always searched for meaning. To perform the most intricate surgeries required someone firm and steady; surgery had deep moral consequences. As a novice, Paul wrestled with the question of “how could I ever learn to make, and live with, such judgment calls”—judgement calls involving the life and death of a human being. He described medicine as “taking up another’s cross” and the burden—not just a compassionate heart, but also “technical excellence [which] was a moral requirement”—that came with it. He was never a mere surgeon: he sought to grapple with the topic of death, guiding patients to recovery or to the afterlife. In this he found his calling.

“People often ask if it is a calling, and my answer is always yes. You can’t see it as a job, because if it’s a job, it’s one of the worst jobs there is.”

This single quote penetrated my heart above everything else in the entire memoir, even above Paul’s attitude towards illness. This is a lesson I will never forget, and will carry throughout my entire life. Whatever I do in following God’s will for me, it can never be a job or even a so called dream so exalted by all modern individuals: it must be a calling.

In Part 2, Paul wrestled with his forthcoming death. Some days felt like victory, only for things to relapse. This section of the book does not harbor the same energy as the first, which should not come across as shocking due to it being a narration of a man’s last days. Paul did ultimately become a father, but a decision that involved leaving his daughter fatherless and dying before he witnessed her growth could never be even somewhat easy. He also searched more than ever on the meaning of life, which led him to denounce his atheism: if science provides no basis for God, neither can it provide any basis for meaning in life.

This book is dedicated to his daughter, Cady, who gave him a new purpose heretofore unexperienced. When Breath Becomes Air’s final paragraph is a message to her, who will not know much about her father, but will know some from this book, and will know that “[she] filled a dying man’s days with a sated joy, a joy unknown to [Paul] in all [his] prior years, a joy that…rests, satisfied.”