What do you think?
Rate this book
مُردن: داستان یک زندگی
حدود دو سال پیش، از اینترنت، داروی اتانازی چینی خریدم. می‌توان� این‌گون� تهیه‌ا� کنی، یا می‌توان� به مکزیک یا پرو سفر کنی و بدون نسخه از دامپزشک بخریش. ظاهراً فقط کافیست بگویی باید اسب بیمارت را خلاص کنی و هر قدر بخواهی به تو می‌فروشن�. بعد هم می‌توان� آن را توی اتاقت در هتلی واقع در شهر لیمای پرو بنوشی، و زحمات حمل‌ونق� جسدت به شهر و دیارت را بیندازی گردن خانواده‌ات� یا دارو را توی چمدانت جاساز کنی تا بعداً از آن استفاده بکنی. قصد نداشتم دارو را بی‌درن� مصرف کنم و حال � روز خوشی هم نداشتم که آن همه راه تا جنوب امریکا بکوبم، پس رفتم سراغ خرید اینترنتی از چین...
154 pages, Paperback
First published May 16, 2016
410 people are currently reading
9,225 people want to read
About the author
Cory Taylor
22books43followersCory Taylor was born in 1955 and was an award-winning screenwriter who has also published short fiction and children’s books. Her first novel, Me and Mr Booker, won the Commonwealth Writers Prize (Pacific Region) and her second, My Beautiful Enemy, was shortlisted for the Miles Franklin Literary Award. Her final book was Dying: A Memoir.
Taylor was survived by her Japanese-born artist husband of 33 years, Shin, and their sons, Nat and Dan, both in their 20s.
Taylor was survived by her Japanese-born artist husband of 33 years, Shin, and their sons, Nat and Dan, both in their 20s.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 635 reviews
November 23, 2016
This year two of my close friends were diagnosed with terminal cancer. One was my fittest friend, the guy who ran regular half-marathons and swam and cycled and jogged every day. But the thing is, four or was it five of his uncles, aunts and parents died of cancer at around his age, so it looks like a genetic thing. The other friend is the guy who really should have quit smoking 20 years ago when he managed to beat lymphoma, but he didn’t, so now he has throat cancer.
Talk about a strange time � both these friends aren’t especially ill, they have a couple of mild symptoms, that’s all. But the sentence has been pronounced by the nice oncologist. There’s a chilling conversation opener for you � “Please take a seat, I have your test results here.�
So this tough-minded little memoir came out recently and I thought okay, I will read that. It turns out that Cory Taylor, like me, like my friends, has no faith, so you don’t get any of the spiritual soft soap other memoirists with kindlier outlooks might have doled out. A lot of Cory’s memoir is about her very difficult father, and some of it is about what’s called assisted suicide. She says
I’ve heard it said that modern dying means dying more, dying over longer periods, enduring more uncertainty, subjecting ourselves and our families to more disappointments and despair. As we are enabled to live longer we are also condemned to die longer.
So, she says, why not bring some compassion into this process and let people decide when the time has come for themselves? But this is not a feisty polemical work, it’s one from the heart.
Dying depends on your attitude. Two statistics came out recently in Britain � one says that for people born after 1960, 50% will get cancer. The other says that dementia is now the leading cause of death in the UK. Whew, pretty grim, right? Well, no � because what this means is that people in Britain are living much longer. The doctors decided that dementia should now be recorded as a cause of death (previously it wasn’t, some secondary cause was recorded). And the non-dementia old people have got to die of something. So these dementia and cancer deaths are of people in their 80s and 90s.
That’s okay but what kind of life are these very old people living? They ain’t all twinkling David Attenboroughs, clambering through the jungle to bestow his blessing on a golden tamarind or a shy pangolin at the age of nearly 91, or Dame Vera Lynn getting a No 1 album at the age of 92 (a record which will be hard to break).
Contemplating dying makes you contemplate living.
PLAYLIST
I had enough thinking about the grim reaper for a while, so I put my ipod on and pressed shuffle. There was The Beatles, ah good, they usually cheer you up don’t they
Father McKenzie, wiping the dirt
From his hands as he walks from the grave
No one was saved
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
Then there was a folk song � well, they can be grim
“Oh, what is this I cannot see
With that dread hand held hold of me?�
“Oh, I am death, none can excel,
I opens the doors of heaven and hell.�
“Oh Death, oh Death, how can it be
That I must come and go with thee?
Oh Death, oh Death, how can it be?
I am unprepared for eternity.�
“I'll lock your jaw so you can't talk,
I'll fix your feet so you can't walk,
I'll close your eyes so you can't see,
And this very hour come and go with me.�
Ouch. Then Blind Lemon Jefferson came on � he’s an old blues guy
After him came Hank Williams � uh oh
Won't you redeem your poor wicked soul
You can't pay your way with Silver and Gold
If you're not saved you'll be lost in the night
When the Pale Horse and his rider goes by
Thanks, Hank. And Buffy Sainte Marie roaring out
Feelin' funny in my mind Lord, I believe I'm fixin' to die
Well I don't mind dyin' but I hate to leave my children cryin'
And finally the elegant Scott Walker singing a Jacques Brel translation
My death waits like a beggar blind
who sees the world with an unlit mind
throw him a dime for the passing time
My death waits to allow my friends
a few good times before it ends
let's drink to that and the passing time
My death waits in your arms, your thighs
your cool fingers will close my eyes
let's not talk about the passing time
My death waits among the falling leaves
in magicians� mysterious sleeves
rabbits, dogs and the passing times
Not sure I get all that, but I got the drift. Popular music which you might think is there to cheer us up and make up tap our tootsies and dwell upon the pleasantries and vicissitudes of romance is pretty unflinching too. Not to mention the mayhem passing by on our screens in the form of dramatic entertainment, bodies falling every five minutes or so. Not to mention the evening news. Death is life.
Lovers will leave, your children will move away and rarely call, you can even fall out with your best friend, but the bony armed one is going nowhere, the one faithful companion we all have. So I guess we have to make up a pallet on our floor, set up another place at the breakfast nook, get used to him somehow. Stop jumping every time he hangs his bony fingers round your neck. This charmless companion is what makes us human. You won’t see donkeys worrying about dementia or elephants about elephantiasis. He’s our thing not theirs and he’s going nowhere until we do.
Talk about a strange time � both these friends aren’t especially ill, they have a couple of mild symptoms, that’s all. But the sentence has been pronounced by the nice oncologist. There’s a chilling conversation opener for you � “Please take a seat, I have your test results here.�
So this tough-minded little memoir came out recently and I thought okay, I will read that. It turns out that Cory Taylor, like me, like my friends, has no faith, so you don’t get any of the spiritual soft soap other memoirists with kindlier outlooks might have doled out. A lot of Cory’s memoir is about her very difficult father, and some of it is about what’s called assisted suicide. She says
I’ve heard it said that modern dying means dying more, dying over longer periods, enduring more uncertainty, subjecting ourselves and our families to more disappointments and despair. As we are enabled to live longer we are also condemned to die longer.
So, she says, why not bring some compassion into this process and let people decide when the time has come for themselves? But this is not a feisty polemical work, it’s one from the heart.
Dying depends on your attitude. Two statistics came out recently in Britain � one says that for people born after 1960, 50% will get cancer. The other says that dementia is now the leading cause of death in the UK. Whew, pretty grim, right? Well, no � because what this means is that people in Britain are living much longer. The doctors decided that dementia should now be recorded as a cause of death (previously it wasn’t, some secondary cause was recorded). And the non-dementia old people have got to die of something. So these dementia and cancer deaths are of people in their 80s and 90s.
That’s okay but what kind of life are these very old people living? They ain’t all twinkling David Attenboroughs, clambering through the jungle to bestow his blessing on a golden tamarind or a shy pangolin at the age of nearly 91, or Dame Vera Lynn getting a No 1 album at the age of 92 (a record which will be hard to break).
Contemplating dying makes you contemplate living.
PLAYLIST
I had enough thinking about the grim reaper for a while, so I put my ipod on and pressed shuffle. There was The Beatles, ah good, they usually cheer you up don’t they
Father McKenzie, wiping the dirt
From his hands as he walks from the grave
No one was saved
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
Then there was a folk song � well, they can be grim
“Oh, what is this I cannot see
With that dread hand held hold of me?�
“Oh, I am death, none can excel,
I opens the doors of heaven and hell.�
“Oh Death, oh Death, how can it be
That I must come and go with thee?
Oh Death, oh Death, how can it be?
I am unprepared for eternity.�
“I'll lock your jaw so you can't talk,
I'll fix your feet so you can't walk,
I'll close your eyes so you can't see,
And this very hour come and go with me.�
Ouch. Then Blind Lemon Jefferson came on � he’s an old blues guy
After him came Hank Williams � uh oh
Won't you redeem your poor wicked soul
You can't pay your way with Silver and Gold
If you're not saved you'll be lost in the night
When the Pale Horse and his rider goes by
Thanks, Hank. And Buffy Sainte Marie roaring out
Feelin' funny in my mind Lord, I believe I'm fixin' to die
Well I don't mind dyin' but I hate to leave my children cryin'
And finally the elegant Scott Walker singing a Jacques Brel translation
My death waits like a beggar blind
who sees the world with an unlit mind
throw him a dime for the passing time
My death waits to allow my friends
a few good times before it ends
let's drink to that and the passing time
My death waits in your arms, your thighs
your cool fingers will close my eyes
let's not talk about the passing time
My death waits among the falling leaves
in magicians� mysterious sleeves
rabbits, dogs and the passing times
Not sure I get all that, but I got the drift. Popular music which you might think is there to cheer us up and make up tap our tootsies and dwell upon the pleasantries and vicissitudes of romance is pretty unflinching too. Not to mention the mayhem passing by on our screens in the form of dramatic entertainment, bodies falling every five minutes or so. Not to mention the evening news. Death is life.
Lovers will leave, your children will move away and rarely call, you can even fall out with your best friend, but the bony armed one is going nowhere, the one faithful companion we all have. So I guess we have to make up a pallet on our floor, set up another place at the breakfast nook, get used to him somehow. Stop jumping every time he hangs his bony fingers round your neck. This charmless companion is what makes us human. You won’t see donkeys worrying about dementia or elephants about elephantiasis. He’s our thing not theirs and he’s going nowhere until we do.
October 2, 2020
مقولهٔ مرگ هیچ‌وق� برام عادی نبوده و نمی‌ش�. شده به مرگ عزیزانتون فکر کنید و حتی از تصور نبودنشون وحشت کنید؟ من که بارها، خواه‌ناخواه� به این موضوع فکر کرده�....
تصمیم نداشتم سال ۹۸ جز کتاب «زندگی ربوده‌شده� کتابی رو ترجمه کنم. روزی که ترجمه رو شروع کردم با خودم قرار گذاشتم تا وقتی کتابی درگیرم نکرد و باعث نشد با خودم بگم “چر� تا الان ترجمه نشده؟� به‌هیچ‌وج� سراغ ترجمه� نرم!
کتاب «مُردن» برای اولین‌با� کاری کرد که ۶ صبح، وقتی کتاب رو کامل خوندم، برم جلوِ لپ‌تا� و ترجمه‌ش� رو شروع کنم. هر کتابی سختی‌ها� خودش رو داره، اما این کتاب جوری دیگه‌ا� سخت� بود چون از موضوع پُررمزوراز مرگ می‌گف�.
همه‌مو� بالاخره می‌میریم� برای همین، به‌گمون� موضوع عجیب این کتاب بیشتر آدم‌ه� رو درگیر کنه. کتابی که از روزهای پایانی زندگی نویسنده‌ا� استرالیایی می‌گ� که روزگاری مثل همه‌مو� بچه بوده، جوونی کرده، عاشق شده، خانواده داشته، از دستشون داده.... اما حالا داره می‌میر�. می‌دون� مدت زیادی زنده نیست، پس قلمش رو برمی‌دار� و از «مُردن» مینویسه� از ترس‌هاش� از باورهاش، از افکارش، از دیدگاهش به مرگ و زندگی، از اینکه چه حالی داره که می‌دون� زیاد زنده نمی‌مون�!
صحبت از� این کتاب سخت‌ت� از اونیه که فکرش رو میکنی�. حجمی نداره؛ ۱۵۴ صفحه‌س� اما تمومش که می‌کن� انگار حقایقی رو بهت گفتند که دوست نداشتی بهشون فکر کنی و بعد خوندن کتاب نمی‌تون� فراموششون کنی....
☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️
بخشی از کتاب:
فقدان‌ه� می‌توانن� روی هم تلنبار شوند...
بعضی� روزها که برای ذهن‌آگاه� می‌نشین� توی ایوان جلویی خانه، با دیدن زوجی که برای پیاده‌رو� عصرگاهی آمده‌ان� بیرون حواسم پرت میشود� می‌رون� سمت رودخانه‌ا� که خیلی هم از خانۀ ما دور نیست. پایین خانه‌ما� پارکی هست که تا سه چهار کیلومتر مجاور رودخانه است. هر روز، صبح‌ه� و عصرها، به‌اتفا� همسرم در مسیر کنار رودخانه پیاده‌رو� می‌کردی�. روزمان را این‌گون� شروع و تمام می‌کردی�. حال � هوای رودخانه هیچ‌وق� یکسان نیست؛ گاهی آرام است، گاهی خروشان، گاهی هجوم می‌بَر� سمت دریا، باقی اوقات تنداب است. ممکن بود توقف کنیم و به تماشای اردکِ مادری بایستیم که جوجه‌اردک‌های� را به‌سو� کرانه هدایت میکرد� یا قره‌غاز� که ماهی می‌گرف�. هوا که تاریک‌ت� می‌شد� صدها خفاش میوه‌خوا� از محل تجمعشان در آن‌سو� رودخانه پرواز می‌کردن� به‌طر� انجیرهای بزرگ این‌سو� رودخانه. حالا دیگر با هم پیاده‌رو� نمی‌کنی�. می‌ترس� بیفتم زمین و جایی از بدنم بشکند. دیگر دوچرخه‌سوار� هم نمی‌کنم� این هم تفریحی دیگر که از آن محروم شده‌ا�. دوچرخه‌سواران� را که عبور میکنن� با حسادت تماشا می‌کنم� همان‌جور� که قدیم‌ندیم‌ه� نرم و راحت رکاب می‌زد� رکاب می‌زنن� و به تپه که می‌رسن� محکم رکاب می‌زنن�. به راننده‌ها� اتومبیل هم حسادت می‌ورز�. بعد از جراحی مغزم رانندگی هم نمی‌کنم� چون احتمال دارد دوباره تشنج کنم. دلم لک زده برای اینکه ماشین را بردارم و بروم به ساحلی خلوت و شنا کنم. اما وزنم از سگ شکاری همسایه‌ما� هم کمتر شده و نمی‌توان� امواج ساحل را تاب آورم. فهرست تفریحاتی که دیگر ازشان محروم شده‌ا� تمامی ندارد. البته غصه خوردن بی‌حاص� است، چون نمی‌توان� اوضاع را تغییر دهم، اما میزان خوشی هرچه بیشتر باشد، تمام که بشود جای خالی هولناک‌تر� باقی می‌گذار�. خوشحالم که وقتی فرصتش را داشتم طعم بسیاری از این خوشی‌ه� را چشیدم. از این نظر زندگی پُربرکتی داشته‌ام� آکنده بوده از خوشیها� بی‌حدوحص�. وقتی داری میمیری� حتی نسبت به غمگین‌تری� خاطره‌های� هم تعلق‌خاط� پیدا میکنی� گویی خوشی محدود به اوقات خوش نیست، بلکه همچون کلافی نخ طلایی به تمام روزهای زندگی‌ا� تنیده شده.
تصمیم نداشتم سال ۹۸ جز کتاب «زندگی ربوده‌شده� کتابی رو ترجمه کنم. روزی که ترجمه رو شروع کردم با خودم قرار گذاشتم تا وقتی کتابی درگیرم نکرد و باعث نشد با خودم بگم “چر� تا الان ترجمه نشده؟� به‌هیچ‌وج� سراغ ترجمه� نرم!
کتاب «مُردن» برای اولین‌با� کاری کرد که ۶ صبح، وقتی کتاب رو کامل خوندم، برم جلوِ لپ‌تا� و ترجمه‌ش� رو شروع کنم. هر کتابی سختی‌ها� خودش رو داره، اما این کتاب جوری دیگه‌ا� سخت� بود چون از موضوع پُررمزوراز مرگ می‌گف�.
همه‌مو� بالاخره می‌میریم� برای همین، به‌گمون� موضوع عجیب این کتاب بیشتر آدم‌ه� رو درگیر کنه. کتابی که از روزهای پایانی زندگی نویسنده‌ا� استرالیایی می‌گ� که روزگاری مثل همه‌مو� بچه بوده، جوونی کرده، عاشق شده، خانواده داشته، از دستشون داده.... اما حالا داره می‌میر�. می‌دون� مدت زیادی زنده نیست، پس قلمش رو برمی‌دار� و از «مُردن» مینویسه� از ترس‌هاش� از باورهاش، از افکارش، از دیدگاهش به مرگ و زندگی، از اینکه چه حالی داره که می‌دون� زیاد زنده نمی‌مون�!
صحبت از� این کتاب سخت‌ت� از اونیه که فکرش رو میکنی�. حجمی نداره؛ ۱۵۴ صفحه‌س� اما تمومش که می‌کن� انگار حقایقی رو بهت گفتند که دوست نداشتی بهشون فکر کنی و بعد خوندن کتاب نمی‌تون� فراموششون کنی....
☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️
بخشی از کتاب:
فقدان‌ه� می‌توانن� روی هم تلنبار شوند...
بعضی� روزها که برای ذهن‌آگاه� می‌نشین� توی ایوان جلویی خانه، با دیدن زوجی که برای پیاده‌رو� عصرگاهی آمده‌ان� بیرون حواسم پرت میشود� می‌رون� سمت رودخانه‌ا� که خیلی هم از خانۀ ما دور نیست. پایین خانه‌ما� پارکی هست که تا سه چهار کیلومتر مجاور رودخانه است. هر روز، صبح‌ه� و عصرها، به‌اتفا� همسرم در مسیر کنار رودخانه پیاده‌رو� می‌کردی�. روزمان را این‌گون� شروع و تمام می‌کردی�. حال � هوای رودخانه هیچ‌وق� یکسان نیست؛ گاهی آرام است، گاهی خروشان، گاهی هجوم می‌بَر� سمت دریا، باقی اوقات تنداب است. ممکن بود توقف کنیم و به تماشای اردکِ مادری بایستیم که جوجه‌اردک‌های� را به‌سو� کرانه هدایت میکرد� یا قره‌غاز� که ماهی می‌گرف�. هوا که تاریک‌ت� می‌شد� صدها خفاش میوه‌خوا� از محل تجمعشان در آن‌سو� رودخانه پرواز می‌کردن� به‌طر� انجیرهای بزرگ این‌سو� رودخانه. حالا دیگر با هم پیاده‌رو� نمی‌کنی�. می‌ترس� بیفتم زمین و جایی از بدنم بشکند. دیگر دوچرخه‌سوار� هم نمی‌کنم� این هم تفریحی دیگر که از آن محروم شده‌ا�. دوچرخه‌سواران� را که عبور میکنن� با حسادت تماشا می‌کنم� همان‌جور� که قدیم‌ندیم‌ه� نرم و راحت رکاب می‌زد� رکاب می‌زنن� و به تپه که می‌رسن� محکم رکاب می‌زنن�. به راننده‌ها� اتومبیل هم حسادت می‌ورز�. بعد از جراحی مغزم رانندگی هم نمی‌کنم� چون احتمال دارد دوباره تشنج کنم. دلم لک زده برای اینکه ماشین را بردارم و بروم به ساحلی خلوت و شنا کنم. اما وزنم از سگ شکاری همسایه‌ما� هم کمتر شده و نمی‌توان� امواج ساحل را تاب آورم. فهرست تفریحاتی که دیگر ازشان محروم شده‌ا� تمامی ندارد. البته غصه خوردن بی‌حاص� است، چون نمی‌توان� اوضاع را تغییر دهم، اما میزان خوشی هرچه بیشتر باشد، تمام که بشود جای خالی هولناک‌تر� باقی می‌گذار�. خوشحالم که وقتی فرصتش را داشتم طعم بسیاری از این خوشی‌ه� را چشیدم. از این نظر زندگی پُربرکتی داشته‌ام� آکنده بوده از خوشیها� بی‌حدوحص�. وقتی داری میمیری� حتی نسبت به غمگین‌تری� خاطره‌های� هم تعلق‌خاط� پیدا میکنی� گویی خوشی محدود به اوقات خوش نیست، بلکه همچون کلافی نخ طلایی به تمام روزهای زندگی‌ا� تنیده شده.
July 3, 2021
How to Fail Honourably
For the medical profession, death is failure. Doctors, it seems, are willing to supervise any degree of physical, emotional, and even spiritual torture to avoid it as long as there is money available to finance it. And if there isn’t, then according to the socially-minded, society has failed on its responsibilities.
I think such sentiments are quite correct when it comes to accidents and acute conditions that are subject to healing and mitigation. But chronic degenerative illness like cancer and dementia are another matter entirely. In so many cases death is not failure but the best conceivable outcome, especially when it is the clear desire of the one who suffers from the condition.
Criminal law tends to keep medics towing the party line in most countries. But the arguably greater power of family emotion is what justifies the pain imposed on chronic sufferers either directly by various invasive therapies or indirectly by the warehousing of human beings in care homes. Families are the one’s who insist upon such ‘care� regardless of the consequences for the one who suffers. They want life, often at any cost.
That this may be selfishness disguised as love is not a civilised topic of discussion. Before a crisis, it is morbid to bring up such things; during a crisis, emotions of impending loss dominate everyone’s mind, including the mind of the victim of such emotions. Many pray for continued life, even the most impaired, when it is obvious to any outsider that death is a far superior state.
Cory Taylor suggests that talking about death, particularly self-inflicted death, is more effective than prayer. For her, life is not best described as a gift but as a loan, perhaps like a library book. It can be returned before the due date as it were. Just the thought of this possibility provides comfort and may even prolong life by mitigating what can seem like endless pain. For those whose lives medical technology has allowed to become overdue, assisted dying is a way to pay off the fines painlessly.
Most conversations we do have about dying avoid the main issues: pain and sadness. What else is there to talk about really? But what good would it do to ‘dwell� on such horrible topics? Well possibly quite a lot. Much of grief involves things left unsaid, including the unsaid fear of the one dying as well as the fear of loss by others. It seems to me that grieving together about impending death is therapeutic for everyone. Setting a date for one’s demise could just be the catalyst necessary as a ‘conversation starter.� If that sounds to crass, perhaps that’s a symptom of the problem.
The substance of Taylor’s book is reminiscence - the tensions, misapprehensions, mistakes, and regrets of her life. For her, writing is therapy. “I still write so as not to feel alone in the world,� she says. So of course she creates a story of her life, a story which is typical in its inevitable sadness - family breakup, sibling estrangement, and imagining what could have been. What gives her the courage to write through her increasingly enfeebling condition is the knowledge that her stash of Chinese suicide poison is secure and within reach. As she says: “Even if I never use the drug, it will still have served to banish the feeling of utter helplessness that threatens so often to overwhelm me.�
I don’t know if Taylor used that stash. But it would make sense if she did. Upon finishing the book, I thought of the exhortation of St. Thomas More, quoted from his Utopia in Dignitas’s brochure on assisted dying:
For the medical profession, death is failure. Doctors, it seems, are willing to supervise any degree of physical, emotional, and even spiritual torture to avoid it as long as there is money available to finance it. And if there isn’t, then according to the socially-minded, society has failed on its responsibilities.
I think such sentiments are quite correct when it comes to accidents and acute conditions that are subject to healing and mitigation. But chronic degenerative illness like cancer and dementia are another matter entirely. In so many cases death is not failure but the best conceivable outcome, especially when it is the clear desire of the one who suffers from the condition.
Criminal law tends to keep medics towing the party line in most countries. But the arguably greater power of family emotion is what justifies the pain imposed on chronic sufferers either directly by various invasive therapies or indirectly by the warehousing of human beings in care homes. Families are the one’s who insist upon such ‘care� regardless of the consequences for the one who suffers. They want life, often at any cost.
That this may be selfishness disguised as love is not a civilised topic of discussion. Before a crisis, it is morbid to bring up such things; during a crisis, emotions of impending loss dominate everyone’s mind, including the mind of the victim of such emotions. Many pray for continued life, even the most impaired, when it is obvious to any outsider that death is a far superior state.
Cory Taylor suggests that talking about death, particularly self-inflicted death, is more effective than prayer. For her, life is not best described as a gift but as a loan, perhaps like a library book. It can be returned before the due date as it were. Just the thought of this possibility provides comfort and may even prolong life by mitigating what can seem like endless pain. For those whose lives medical technology has allowed to become overdue, assisted dying is a way to pay off the fines painlessly.
Most conversations we do have about dying avoid the main issues: pain and sadness. What else is there to talk about really? But what good would it do to ‘dwell� on such horrible topics? Well possibly quite a lot. Much of grief involves things left unsaid, including the unsaid fear of the one dying as well as the fear of loss by others. It seems to me that grieving together about impending death is therapeutic for everyone. Setting a date for one’s demise could just be the catalyst necessary as a ‘conversation starter.� If that sounds to crass, perhaps that’s a symptom of the problem.
The substance of Taylor’s book is reminiscence - the tensions, misapprehensions, mistakes, and regrets of her life. For her, writing is therapy. “I still write so as not to feel alone in the world,� she says. So of course she creates a story of her life, a story which is typical in its inevitable sadness - family breakup, sibling estrangement, and imagining what could have been. What gives her the courage to write through her increasingly enfeebling condition is the knowledge that her stash of Chinese suicide poison is secure and within reach. As she says: “Even if I never use the drug, it will still have served to banish the feeling of utter helplessness that threatens so often to overwhelm me.�
I don’t know if Taylor used that stash. But it would make sense if she did. Upon finishing the book, I thought of the exhortation of St. Thomas More, quoted from his Utopia in Dignitas’s brochure on assisted dying:
“I have already told you with what care they look after their sick, so that nothing is left undone that can contribute either to their ease or health: and for those who are taken with fixed and incurable diseases, they use all possible ways to cherish them, and to make their lives as comfortable as possible. They visit them often, and take great pains to make their time pass off easily: but when any is taken with a torturing and lingering pain, so that there is no hope, either of recovery or ease, the priests and magistrates come and exhort them, that since they are now unable to go on with the business of life, are become a burden to themselves and to all about them, and they have really outlived themselves, they should no longer nourish such a rooted distemper, but choose rather to die, since they cannot live but in much misery: being assured, that if they thus deliver themselves from torture, or are willing that others should do it, they shall be happy after death. Since by their acting thus, they lose none of the pleasures but only the troubles of life, they think they behave not only reasonably, but in a manner consistent with religion and piety; because they follow the advice given them by their priests, who are the expounders of the will of God. Such as are wrought on by these persuasions, either starve themselves of their own accord, or take opium, and by that means die without pain. But no man is forced on this way of ending his life; and if they cannot be persuaded to it, this does not induce them to fail in their attendance and care of them; but as they believe that a voluntary death, when it is chosen upon such an authority, is very honourable.�
November 23, 2016
(3.5) “I haven’t died before, so I sometimes get a bad case of beginner’s nerves, but they soon pass.� Cory Taylor (who died in July) was an Australian novelist first diagnosed with stage-four melanoma in 2005; after the cancer metastasized she underwent brain surgery but the end was clearly approaching. She ordered suicide drugs online but it never came to that; instead, she kept the drugs as a kind of insurance policy lest her philosophical shrugs and general good humor failed her.
In trying to come to terms with dying she met with a psychiatrist (who classified her problem as “adjustment disorder�), Buddhist nuns, and a home-nursing volunteer who came to record her biography but then herself died of a sudden stroke. She also agreed to take part in an episode of the television program “You Can’t Ask That� in which she would answer the 10 most popular questions sent in by viewers. Though rather clichéd � Do you have a bucket list? Are you scared? What will you miss the most? � these questions are a useful way of organizing her thoughts about death in the first part of the book.
Later on she delves into her childhood: a pilot father with a chip on his shoulder; visits to her mother’s home in the Bush; a time living in Fiji; her parents� divorce and her difficulty keeping up a relationship with her father. I was reminded of Stefan Zweig’s Burning Secret in the section where she talks about her growing adolescent awareness of sex: “Once desire had entered my sights, I started to notice it everywhere, even in my parents, who seemed more vulnerable the closer I looked, susceptible in ways I’d never suspected before, and not in full control of their faculties. Even their bodies appeared ready to betray them at any moment.�
The problem with having lived a nomadic life, Taylor reveals (especially so after she married a Japanese man and spent significant time at a second home in Japan), is that she isn’t sure where “home� is. Where should her ashes be scattered? Does it matter? Ultimately she decides that whatever is done with her body and effects is more of a decision for her husband and sons to make; it’s up to the living to decide how she will be remembered.
If this memoir is ultimately somewhat fragmentary, that is almost certainly a result of it being written against the clock (within six months, certainly). All the same, I think it succeeds in presenting the trajectory of a life and baring the soul in the face of death.
Favorite passage:
In trying to come to terms with dying she met with a psychiatrist (who classified her problem as “adjustment disorder�), Buddhist nuns, and a home-nursing volunteer who came to record her biography but then herself died of a sudden stroke. She also agreed to take part in an episode of the television program “You Can’t Ask That� in which she would answer the 10 most popular questions sent in by viewers. Though rather clichéd � Do you have a bucket list? Are you scared? What will you miss the most? � these questions are a useful way of organizing her thoughts about death in the first part of the book.
Later on she delves into her childhood: a pilot father with a chip on his shoulder; visits to her mother’s home in the Bush; a time living in Fiji; her parents� divorce and her difficulty keeping up a relationship with her father. I was reminded of Stefan Zweig’s Burning Secret in the section where she talks about her growing adolescent awareness of sex: “Once desire had entered my sights, I started to notice it everywhere, even in my parents, who seemed more vulnerable the closer I looked, susceptible in ways I’d never suspected before, and not in full control of their faculties. Even their bodies appeared ready to betray them at any moment.�
The problem with having lived a nomadic life, Taylor reveals (especially so after she married a Japanese man and spent significant time at a second home in Japan), is that she isn’t sure where “home� is. Where should her ashes be scattered? Does it matter? Ultimately she decides that whatever is done with her body and effects is more of a decision for her husband and sons to make; it’s up to the living to decide how she will be remembered.
If this memoir is ultimately somewhat fragmentary, that is almost certainly a result of it being written against the clock (within six months, certainly). All the same, I think it succeeds in presenting the trajectory of a life and baring the soul in the face of death.
Favorite passage:
It’s often said that life is short. But life is also simultaneous, all of our experiences existing in time together, in the flesh. For what are we, if not a body taking a mind for a walk, just to see what’s there? � I am a girl and I am a dying woman. My body is my journey, the truest record of all I have done and seen, the site of all my joys and heartbreaks, of all my misapprehensions and blinding insights. If I feel the need to relive the journey it is all there written in runes on my body. Even my cells remember it, all that sunshine I bathed in as a child, too much as it turned out.
July 30, 2016
“…I will miss being around to see what happens next, how things turn out, whether my children’s lives will prove as lucky as my own. But I will not miss dying. It is by far the hardest thing I have ever done, and I will be glad when it’s over�
Dying: a Memoir is Cory Taylor’s last book. Cory writes that she is sixty years old and dying of a melanoma-related brain cancer, and says: “…in this, my final book: I am making a shape for my death, so that I, and others, can see it clearly. And I am making dying bearable for myself�. When an author like Taylor turns her literary talent to a memoir on dying, the reader can expect it to be insightful, intelligent and even thought-provoking: “We are all just a millimetre away from death, all of the time, if only we knew it�.
She observes: “A sudden death cuts out all the preliminaries, but I imagine it leaves behind a terrible regret for all things left permanently unspoken. A slow death, like mine, has one advantage. You have a lot of time to talk, to tell people how you feel, to try to make sense of the whole thing, of the life that is coming to a close, both for yourself, and those who remain�
What the reader might not expect from this subject is to laugh out loud, quite often: “If I’m afraid of anything it’s of dying badly, of getting caught up in some process that prolongs my life unnecessarily. I’ve put all the safeguards in place�.My doctor has promised to honour my wishes, but I can’t help worrying. I haven’t died before, so I sometimes get a bad case of beginner’s nerves, but they soon pass�. Not unexpectedly, much of the humour is black.
Taylor explores the euthanasia debate, and comments on the way Western society deals with the subject of death and dying (usually, not very well). For these observations alone, this book should be compulsory reading for the medical profession, especially those involved with palliative care.
She also relates her experience with the deaths of those close to her, and reflects on her life. Her earliest ambition was to be a writer: “The letters of the alphabet had this power. If you learned to draw them well and order them in the right way, you could tell anybody anything you liked, make a picture for them out of words, make them see what you saw�. This, as evidenced by awards and accolades won, was achieved in spades, so on the subject of regrets, she says she has none. Honest, profound and deeply moving.
4.5ȴ
Dying: a Memoir is Cory Taylor’s last book. Cory writes that she is sixty years old and dying of a melanoma-related brain cancer, and says: “…in this, my final book: I am making a shape for my death, so that I, and others, can see it clearly. And I am making dying bearable for myself�. When an author like Taylor turns her literary talent to a memoir on dying, the reader can expect it to be insightful, intelligent and even thought-provoking: “We are all just a millimetre away from death, all of the time, if only we knew it�.
She observes: “A sudden death cuts out all the preliminaries, but I imagine it leaves behind a terrible regret for all things left permanently unspoken. A slow death, like mine, has one advantage. You have a lot of time to talk, to tell people how you feel, to try to make sense of the whole thing, of the life that is coming to a close, both for yourself, and those who remain�
What the reader might not expect from this subject is to laugh out loud, quite often: “If I’m afraid of anything it’s of dying badly, of getting caught up in some process that prolongs my life unnecessarily. I’ve put all the safeguards in place�.My doctor has promised to honour my wishes, but I can’t help worrying. I haven’t died before, so I sometimes get a bad case of beginner’s nerves, but they soon pass�. Not unexpectedly, much of the humour is black.
Taylor explores the euthanasia debate, and comments on the way Western society deals with the subject of death and dying (usually, not very well). For these observations alone, this book should be compulsory reading for the medical profession, especially those involved with palliative care.
She also relates her experience with the deaths of those close to her, and reflects on her life. Her earliest ambition was to be a writer: “The letters of the alphabet had this power. If you learned to draw them well and order them in the right way, you could tell anybody anything you liked, make a picture for them out of words, make them see what you saw�. This, as evidenced by awards and accolades won, was achieved in spades, so on the subject of regrets, she says she has none. Honest, profound and deeply moving.
4.5ȴ
October 18, 2017
“I was as under-prepared as anyone could be. It was as if I had stumbled out of a land of make-believe into the realm of the real. That is why I started writing this book. Things are not as they should be. For so many of us, death has become the unmentionable thing, a monstrous silence.But this is no help to the dying, who are probably lonelier now than they’ve ever been. At least that’s how it feels to me.�
“while my body is careering towards catastrophe, my mind is elsewhere, concentrated on this other, vital task, which is to tell you something meaningful before I go.�
Before her death in July 2016 from metastatic melanoma, Australian writer Cory Taylor penned a beautiful, calm, uncluttered memoir. In it, she contemplated dying� what the end holds, of course, but also the miracle and richness of being in the world. Years before her mother was to succumb to dementia, she had spoken to Cory about “the voluntary euthanasia movement� which advocates for a person’s right to determine the time of his or her own death—before debilitation and/or loss of cognitive function make such deliberations impossible. Unfortunately, Taylor admits, she hadn’t much listened to her mother, who was still a vital and active woman at the time. Some years later, Taylor would see this admirable woman gravely ill, barely recognizable—in fact, “clinging onto a bathroom basin with all of her meagre strength� while a young nurse wiped her bottom. “The look in my mother’s eyes as she turned and saw me watching,� Taylor writes, “reminded me of an animal in unspeakable torment.� Little wonder, then, that with her own demise imminent, she ordered a euthanasia drug from China which could summon death to do its work more quickly. She had qualms about using the drug (the effect such a death would have on her family was just too painful to contemplate), and, in fact, did not end up doing so, but it at least provided her with some measure of control.
Taylor marvels at her having made it into her sixties—it’s even more remarkable, really, when one considers that her diagnosis of stage-four melanoma came just before her fiftieth birthday. Melanoma is perhaps the swiftest of malignant cancers. Taylor was an outlier, for sure. She feelingly observes what is often stated: life is tremendously fragile. Any one of us can be taken suddenly and with apparent randomness—at any moment. All of us experience any number of close calls.
The palliative-care services Taylor received interestingly included a volunteer biographer whose job was to listen and record key events and memories of the terminally ill patient. The recollections were to be collated and presented to the bereaved family after their beloved’s death. Taylor was tended to by the wise and extraordinary Susan Addison, who had lost a teenaged son to brain cancer years before and who had herself published a memoir on the subject. Sadly, Addison died suddenly in the midst of the project. About Addison’s unexpected death Taylor reflects: “I was sorry we hadn’t recorded her life story instead of mine during our meetings. I was sorry she hadn’t had the same chance I’ve had, to say a long goodbye to those she loved, or to prepare them for life without her, to the extent that that is possible. […] A slow death, like mine, has that one advantage. You have a lot of time to talk, to tell people how you feel, to try to make sense of the whole thing, of the life that is coming to a close, both for yourself and for those who remain.�
Taylor’s memoir is infused with love and concern for her grown sons and her Japanese artist husband, Shin. She acknowledges the great gift of Shin, who she says has nurtured and cared for her devotedly and whose steadiness and good humour have ensured her sanity. Her own life-affirming union leads her to reflect on the hardships of her mother, who lost her great love, a part-Chinese pilot whom the family frowned upon, when he was shot down in his plane during World War II. She married Gordon Taylor, Cory’s father, instead. To a significant extent, his inner demons would hold his family—particularly his wife—in their depressive grip for years.
A great deal of the second half of this short book is dedicated to the author’s parents and their unhappy marriage, which ultimately ended in divorce. Taylor’s difficult father was a restless man, a pilot who had also flown in the war. He was plagued by mental illness, which mostly manifested itself in extended black moods (and often lengthy retreats to his bed) punctuated by angry outbursts. The family was dragged to any number of locations—Indonesia, Fiji, and Kenya, among them—as Gordon frequently changed jobs. There were, apparently, endless opportunities for pilots after the war as the aviation industry was “taking off� so to speak, but disenchantment tended to descend quickly on Gordon, and the family would be uprooted yet again. Taylor herself was largely untroubled by the constant moves. It was all she knew, she said. Finally, however, her mother had simply had enough, and initiated divorce proceedings—something highly unusual in that day and age. University-educated, she supported her family with her work as a high-school teacher.
Taylor laments that her relationship with her older brother and sister was characterized by the fractures and distance that had plagued her mother’s family. Taylor’s grandmother, Ril, had been a restless, unhappy woman who chafed against life on a large farm in the outback. The author feels she inherited something of Ril’s (and Gordon’s) restlessness and desire for adventure—though, it would appear, less of the darkness and distress. For Cory, travel was not the compulsion it had been for Gordon (who was attempting to placate his demons with it) but an opportunity to take in the richness and variety the world offered.
Though Susan Addison sadly did not see Taylor’s biography to completion, its subject managed to create her own final gift of writing to her family and to the larger world of readers. Written by a vital, observant woman, the book tells us something meaningful indeed—just as its author intended.
Memorable Quotations
“Writing, even if most of the time you are only doing it in your head, shapes the world, and makes it bearable.�
“as the British psychotherapist and essayist Adam Phillips says, we are all haunted by the life not lived, by the belief that we’ve missed out on something different and better. […] The problem with reverie is that you always assume you know how the unlived life turns out. And it is always a better version of the the life you’ve actually lived […]more significant and purposeful […]impossibly free of setbacks and mishaps.�
“It’s often said that life is short. But life is also simultaneous, all of our experience existing in time together in the flesh. For what are we, if not a body taking a mind for a walk, just to see what’s there? And, in the end, where do we get if not back to a beginning we’ve never really left behind? Time present and time past/Are both perhaps present in time future/And time future contained in time past. It is all, according to T.S. Eliot, the same thing. I am a girl and I am a dying woman. My body is my journey, the truest record of all I have done and seen, the site of all my joys and heartbreaks, of all my misapprehensions and blinding. If I feel the need to relive the journey it is all there written in runes on my body. Even my cells remember it, all that sunshine I bathed in as a child, too much as it turned out.In my beginning is my end.�
“while my body is careering towards catastrophe, my mind is elsewhere, concentrated on this other, vital task, which is to tell you something meaningful before I go.�
Before her death in July 2016 from metastatic melanoma, Australian writer Cory Taylor penned a beautiful, calm, uncluttered memoir. In it, she contemplated dying� what the end holds, of course, but also the miracle and richness of being in the world. Years before her mother was to succumb to dementia, she had spoken to Cory about “the voluntary euthanasia movement� which advocates for a person’s right to determine the time of his or her own death—before debilitation and/or loss of cognitive function make such deliberations impossible. Unfortunately, Taylor admits, she hadn’t much listened to her mother, who was still a vital and active woman at the time. Some years later, Taylor would see this admirable woman gravely ill, barely recognizable—in fact, “clinging onto a bathroom basin with all of her meagre strength� while a young nurse wiped her bottom. “The look in my mother’s eyes as she turned and saw me watching,� Taylor writes, “reminded me of an animal in unspeakable torment.� Little wonder, then, that with her own demise imminent, she ordered a euthanasia drug from China which could summon death to do its work more quickly. She had qualms about using the drug (the effect such a death would have on her family was just too painful to contemplate), and, in fact, did not end up doing so, but it at least provided her with some measure of control.
Taylor marvels at her having made it into her sixties—it’s even more remarkable, really, when one considers that her diagnosis of stage-four melanoma came just before her fiftieth birthday. Melanoma is perhaps the swiftest of malignant cancers. Taylor was an outlier, for sure. She feelingly observes what is often stated: life is tremendously fragile. Any one of us can be taken suddenly and with apparent randomness—at any moment. All of us experience any number of close calls.
The palliative-care services Taylor received interestingly included a volunteer biographer whose job was to listen and record key events and memories of the terminally ill patient. The recollections were to be collated and presented to the bereaved family after their beloved’s death. Taylor was tended to by the wise and extraordinary Susan Addison, who had lost a teenaged son to brain cancer years before and who had herself published a memoir on the subject. Sadly, Addison died suddenly in the midst of the project. About Addison’s unexpected death Taylor reflects: “I was sorry we hadn’t recorded her life story instead of mine during our meetings. I was sorry she hadn’t had the same chance I’ve had, to say a long goodbye to those she loved, or to prepare them for life without her, to the extent that that is possible. […] A slow death, like mine, has that one advantage. You have a lot of time to talk, to tell people how you feel, to try to make sense of the whole thing, of the life that is coming to a close, both for yourself and for those who remain.�
Taylor’s memoir is infused with love and concern for her grown sons and her Japanese artist husband, Shin. She acknowledges the great gift of Shin, who she says has nurtured and cared for her devotedly and whose steadiness and good humour have ensured her sanity. Her own life-affirming union leads her to reflect on the hardships of her mother, who lost her great love, a part-Chinese pilot whom the family frowned upon, when he was shot down in his plane during World War II. She married Gordon Taylor, Cory’s father, instead. To a significant extent, his inner demons would hold his family—particularly his wife—in their depressive grip for years.
A great deal of the second half of this short book is dedicated to the author’s parents and their unhappy marriage, which ultimately ended in divorce. Taylor’s difficult father was a restless man, a pilot who had also flown in the war. He was plagued by mental illness, which mostly manifested itself in extended black moods (and often lengthy retreats to his bed) punctuated by angry outbursts. The family was dragged to any number of locations—Indonesia, Fiji, and Kenya, among them—as Gordon frequently changed jobs. There were, apparently, endless opportunities for pilots after the war as the aviation industry was “taking off� so to speak, but disenchantment tended to descend quickly on Gordon, and the family would be uprooted yet again. Taylor herself was largely untroubled by the constant moves. It was all she knew, she said. Finally, however, her mother had simply had enough, and initiated divorce proceedings—something highly unusual in that day and age. University-educated, she supported her family with her work as a high-school teacher.
Taylor laments that her relationship with her older brother and sister was characterized by the fractures and distance that had plagued her mother’s family. Taylor’s grandmother, Ril, had been a restless, unhappy woman who chafed against life on a large farm in the outback. The author feels she inherited something of Ril’s (and Gordon’s) restlessness and desire for adventure—though, it would appear, less of the darkness and distress. For Cory, travel was not the compulsion it had been for Gordon (who was attempting to placate his demons with it) but an opportunity to take in the richness and variety the world offered.
Though Susan Addison sadly did not see Taylor’s biography to completion, its subject managed to create her own final gift of writing to her family and to the larger world of readers. Written by a vital, observant woman, the book tells us something meaningful indeed—just as its author intended.
Memorable Quotations
“Writing, even if most of the time you are only doing it in your head, shapes the world, and makes it bearable.�
“as the British psychotherapist and essayist Adam Phillips says, we are all haunted by the life not lived, by the belief that we’ve missed out on something different and better. […] The problem with reverie is that you always assume you know how the unlived life turns out. And it is always a better version of the the life you’ve actually lived […]more significant and purposeful […]impossibly free of setbacks and mishaps.�
“It’s often said that life is short. But life is also simultaneous, all of our experience existing in time together in the flesh. For what are we, if not a body taking a mind for a walk, just to see what’s there? And, in the end, where do we get if not back to a beginning we’ve never really left behind? Time present and time past/Are both perhaps present in time future/And time future contained in time past. It is all, according to T.S. Eliot, the same thing. I am a girl and I am a dying woman. My body is my journey, the truest record of all I have done and seen, the site of all my joys and heartbreaks, of all my misapprehensions and blinding. If I feel the need to relive the journey it is all there written in runes on my body. Even my cells remember it, all that sunshine I bathed in as a child, too much as it turned out.In my beginning is my end.�
November 21, 2017
Again... another memoir I've rated below 3 stars. I almost feel like I'm being disrespectful rating this so low, but this is NOT what I expected at all. Considering the title of this book is "Dying", I had apparently mistaken that to mean it would be about her
dying.
2/3 of the book were about her childhood. In particular, her love and admiration for her mother, general disdain for her father and indifference about her siblings. While I can understand how it would make sense to throw in some back story about her life-- and I would've gladly accepted that-- it wasn't about her entire life, just about her childhood. So, I feel like, if she included her childhood, she should have also included the time when her childhood ended up until the time of her death. There were only rare tidbits of her middle ages, and her failure to include that part of her life doesn't make a lot of sense to me, especially considering how fervently she prattled on about her childhood.
Part One was about dying. The rest was not. It sounds cold and heartless to sit here and complain about how she didn't discuss dying for most of the novel, but it's implied in the title that it's about DYING. In my life, as I assume in many peoples, death is a difficult subject to discuss. It's uncomfortable, to say the very least. So my curiosity was piqued by a novel written by someone who is actively dying, and could discuss it in an open enough way to discourage the idea that it's too taboo to talk about.
I am very frustrated with this book because I was excited about the premise, I was excited after reading part one, and then the flame of my excitement swiftly fizzled out. I think I might have felt more satisfied had she only written part one and just ended it there. I don't see any real reason for the rest of the book to exist... *SIGH* I had such high hopes for this book.
On a side note - I LOVE the cover and the size of the book!
2/3 of the book were about her childhood. In particular, her love and admiration for her mother, general disdain for her father and indifference about her siblings. While I can understand how it would make sense to throw in some back story about her life-- and I would've gladly accepted that-- it wasn't about her entire life, just about her childhood. So, I feel like, if she included her childhood, she should have also included the time when her childhood ended up until the time of her death. There were only rare tidbits of her middle ages, and her failure to include that part of her life doesn't make a lot of sense to me, especially considering how fervently she prattled on about her childhood.
Part One was about dying. The rest was not. It sounds cold and heartless to sit here and complain about how she didn't discuss dying for most of the novel, but it's implied in the title that it's about DYING. In my life, as I assume in many peoples, death is a difficult subject to discuss. It's uncomfortable, to say the very least. So my curiosity was piqued by a novel written by someone who is actively dying, and could discuss it in an open enough way to discourage the idea that it's too taboo to talk about.
I am very frustrated with this book because I was excited about the premise, I was excited after reading part one, and then the flame of my excitement swiftly fizzled out. I think I might have felt more satisfied had she only written part one and just ended it there. I don't see any real reason for the rest of the book to exist... *SIGH* I had such high hopes for this book.
On a side note - I LOVE the cover and the size of the book!
October 3, 2021
.
.
كوري تايلر كاتبة أسترالية في أدب الطفل ولها بعض الأعمال الروائية، وأخر ما كتبته هو هذا الكتاب الذي نحن بصدد الحديث عنه "Dying" الصادر بعنوان "في معنى أن نموت" بترجمته العربية الرشيقة بقلم عبدالوهاب أبو زيد.
تايلر تكتب مذكراتها بعد أن تم تشخيص حالتها بالإصابة بمرض السرطان ووصولها لمراحل متقدمة فيه، وفي هذه المذكرات تقرأ جزء من سيرتها وحياتها السابقة والحالية وتطلعاتها المستقبلية التي ذهب بها المرض، تتحدث تايلر عن مرحلة الاستعداد للموت والتي جاءت مغايرة كليًا لطبيعة الموت المفاجئة، مع حالة التأهب للموت تلك وضعت الكاتبة حياتها بأكملها بذكرياتها وأحلامها وطموحاتها أعمالها المنجزة والمعلقة تحت مجهر النقد والتأمل، الذي كانت به تايلر متجردة دومًا من الإيمان بالله تعالى.
الكاتبة روائية لذلك جاء سردها لسيرتها الذاتية يحمل طابعًا أدبيًا هادئًا وانسيابًا ممتع رغم ما فيه من وجع، اعترف أنها المرة الأولى التي أقترب بها بالنص تجاه الموت بهذه الطريقة ولا أجده مخيفًا، بل كان لها على الأقل الخلاص الوحيد!
مع كل مالدي تجاه بعض الأفكار التي عرضتها تايلر من تحفظات، إلا أنني أحببت فعلًا الكتاب، والحالة الانتقالية ما بين السرد الذاتي إلى عرض الأفكار العقائدية والفلسفية لقد كانت رحلة قراءة ممتعة رغم ما بها من ألم.
هذا الكتاب في قائمة أفضل عشرة كتب قرأتها حتى الآن.
�-
على الهامش: التي قمت بتحليل مجموعة من الاقتباسات من الكتاب أتمنى منكم قراءتها. 🔻
صورة الاقتباس :
التحليل :
اقرأ 👇🏻
كيف تُحب أن يتذكرك الآخرون؟
طرحت #كوري_تايلر في كتابها " #في_معنى_أن_نموت " هذا السؤال ضمن العديد من الأسئلة التي دارت في خلدها قبل الموت، تايلر سألت نفسها هذا السؤال -بتوقيت يُعتبر متأخرًا بعض الشيء-حتى تضع أعمالها ضمن ميزانها الشخصي للنقد والتفكير، إذا أردت أن أُعيد عرض هذا السؤال بأكثر من صيغة لقلت: لماذا يجب على الناس أن يذكروني؟ وإن كان الجواب ثرياً قلت: ماذا أفعل حتى أجعل لنفسي نصيبًا في ذاكرتهم ؟ إن البحث عن إجابة الكيفية في سؤالها تفرض وجود فعل يخضع لميزان القياس، وخضوع الأفعال لهذا الميزان يترتب عليه بلا شك تبعية خاصة لقيم ومبادئ أخلاقية تتشارك بها كوري تايلر التي لا تؤمن بالله مع المؤمن الذي يثق بوجود الله وبالتالي يثق بقضية الحساب والعقاب ومن ثم وجود الحياة الأخرى.
هذا ما جعلني أستغرب من صيغة سؤالها، مثلها يُفترض أن لا يُقيم وزنًا حقيقية لآراء الآخرين، فبماذا ستخدمها هذه الآراء إن أنتهت حياتها فعلاً بعد الموت ؟!.
🔻 الاقتباس الثاني :
التحليل :
اقرأ👇🏻
لا أدري لماذا ضحكت وأنا أقرأ حديث الكاتبة الأسترالية #كوري_تايلر هنا، كم قائمة متخمة بالأهداف والمهام والرغبات، يزداد طولها يومًا بعد يوم؟ موجودة لدينا!
مابين الأحلام المنتظرة والأماني المعلقة يطول بنا أمد التعلق بهذه الحياة، ونتشبث أكثر بها، والحق أن تلك القوائم تفقدنا قيمة ما أنجزناه منها، بمعنى إن كان لديك قائمة بعشرة أهداف مثلا أنجزت منها هدفاً، بدلًا من الفرح بهذا الإنجاز ستجد نفسك تقرأ في الهدف الذي يليه! وما أن تصل للهدف الذي يليه حتى تُفكر بالهدف التالي وهكذا دواليك.
فقضية "التالي "هذه مرعبة ومخيفة، لا تهدأ بها النفس أبدًا، جرب أن تعكس النظرة بدلًا من أن توجه نظراتك نحو هذه القوائم الغير منجزة، جرب قراءة انجازاتك المحققة على أرض الواقع، تايلور هنا تحدثت عن قيمة ما تملك فعلاً وبدأت تستشعر بعظمة مالديها ولكنها تأخرت كثيرأ حتى وصلت لحالة الرضى تلك!.
قصدي في هذا التحليل لا يمت إلى التخلي عن هذه القوائم بصلة، ولا أدعوك لتركها والتوقف عن تدوين مخططاتك وأعمالك، لا� كل الحكاية أني أدعوك وأدعو نفسي معك إلى الإلتفات قليلًا نحو ما قدمناه فعلًا وما حققناه بفضل الله، لا تبخس نفسك حقها.
وخذ نفسك ( الدنيا ما هي دايمة)
وأظن بأني قد وقفت على سبب ضحكاتي تذكرت قائمة الكتب التي أنوي قراءتها! تبدو طويلة بعض الشيء وقد وصلت إلى 4000 كتاب حتى الساعة🌝�"يا من يعيش "
🔻الاقتباس الثالث:
التحليل:
المشكلة الحقيقية هنا هي هذا الظن بأن ما لا نملك أفضل بكثير من الذي نملكه فعلًا، هذا الشعور الذي تخلقه المقارنة الواهمة ما بين الواقع الذي نعيشه فعلاً والخيال الذي نتمنى العيش فيه يُفقدنا الرضا، وإذا فقدنا الرضا فقدنا معه كل عوامل الحياة السعيدة كالهدوء والاستقرار وراحة البال.
يحضرني قول الشاعر :
عجبا للزمان في حالتيه
وقضاء فررت منه إليه
رب يوم بكيت فيه فلما
صرت في غيره بكيت عليه
بالله انظر جيدًا لما هو بين يديك، وتخيل نفسك لا تملكه! استشعر حجم مالديك، تلمس مواطن النعم.
—�
ماذا بعد القراءة؟
تبدو حكايات الموت غامضة، ناقصة ودائمًا تبحث عن إجابات لأسئلة متعددة، ولكلاً حكايته الخاصة مع الموت الذي يجهل نهايتها.
كانَ رَسولُ اللهِ � يقولُ: اللَّهُمَّ أَصْلِحْ لي دِينِي الذي هو عِصْمَةُ أَمْرِي، وَأَصْلِحْ لي دُنْيَايَ الَّتي فِيهَا معاشِي، وَأَصْلِحْ لي آخِرَتي الَّتي فِيهَا معادِي، وَاجْعَلِ الحَيَاةَ زِيَادَةً لي في كُلِّ خَيْرٍ، وَاجْعَلِ المَوْتَ رَاحَةً لي مِن كُلِّ شَرٍّ.
#أبجدية_فرح 5/5🌷📚
�#Իڱ23Ǵǰ𱹾ɲ
#في_معنى_أن_نموت #كوري_تايلر
#دارأدبللنشروالتوزيع
#حيعلىالقراءة
#غردبإقتباس
#مراجعةكتاب
[image error]
.
كوري تايلر كاتبة أسترالية في أدب الطفل ولها بعض الأعمال الروائية، وأخر ما كتبته هو هذا الكتاب الذي نحن بصدد الحديث عنه "Dying" الصادر بعنوان "في معنى أن نموت" بترجمته العربية الرشيقة بقلم عبدالوهاب أبو زيد.
تايلر تكتب مذكراتها بعد أن تم تشخيص حالتها بالإصابة بمرض السرطان ووصولها لمراحل متقدمة فيه، وفي هذه المذكرات تقرأ جزء من سيرتها وحياتها السابقة والحالية وتطلعاتها المستقبلية التي ذهب بها المرض، تتحدث تايلر عن مرحلة الاستعداد للموت والتي جاءت مغايرة كليًا لطبيعة الموت المفاجئة، مع حالة التأهب للموت تلك وضعت الكاتبة حياتها بأكملها بذكرياتها وأحلامها وطموحاتها أعمالها المنجزة والمعلقة تحت مجهر النقد والتأمل، الذي كانت به تايلر متجردة دومًا من الإيمان بالله تعالى.
الكاتبة روائية لذلك جاء سردها لسيرتها الذاتية يحمل طابعًا أدبيًا هادئًا وانسيابًا ممتع رغم ما فيه من وجع، اعترف أنها المرة الأولى التي أقترب بها بالنص تجاه الموت بهذه الطريقة ولا أجده مخيفًا، بل كان لها على الأقل الخلاص الوحيد!
مع كل مالدي تجاه بعض الأفكار التي عرضتها تايلر من تحفظات، إلا أنني أحببت فعلًا الكتاب، والحالة الانتقالية ما بين السرد الذاتي إلى عرض الأفكار العقائدية والفلسفية لقد كانت رحلة قراءة ممتعة رغم ما بها من ألم.
هذا الكتاب في قائمة أفضل عشرة كتب قرأتها حتى الآن.
�-
على الهامش: التي قمت بتحليل مجموعة من الاقتباسات من الكتاب أتمنى منكم قراءتها. 🔻
صورة الاقتباس :
التحليل :
اقرأ 👇🏻
كيف تُحب أن يتذكرك الآخرون؟
طرحت #كوري_تايلر في كتابها " #في_معنى_أن_نموت " هذا السؤال ضمن العديد من الأسئلة التي دارت في خلدها قبل الموت، تايلر سألت نفسها هذا السؤال -بتوقيت يُعتبر متأخرًا بعض الشيء-حتى تضع أعمالها ضمن ميزانها الشخصي للنقد والتفكير، إذا أردت أن أُعيد عرض هذا السؤال بأكثر من صيغة لقلت: لماذا يجب على الناس أن يذكروني؟ وإن كان الجواب ثرياً قلت: ماذا أفعل حتى أجعل لنفسي نصيبًا في ذاكرتهم ؟ إن البحث عن إجابة الكيفية في سؤالها تفرض وجود فعل يخضع لميزان القياس، وخضوع الأفعال لهذا الميزان يترتب عليه بلا شك تبعية خاصة لقيم ومبادئ أخلاقية تتشارك بها كوري تايلر التي لا تؤمن بالله مع المؤمن الذي يثق بوجود الله وبالتالي يثق بقضية الحساب والعقاب ومن ثم وجود الحياة الأخرى.
هذا ما جعلني أستغرب من صيغة سؤالها، مثلها يُفترض أن لا يُقيم وزنًا حقيقية لآراء الآخرين، فبماذا ستخدمها هذه الآراء إن أنتهت حياتها فعلاً بعد الموت ؟!.
🔻 الاقتباس الثاني :
التحليل :
اقرأ👇🏻
لا أدري لماذا ضحكت وأنا أقرأ حديث الكاتبة الأسترالية #كوري_تايلر هنا، كم قائمة متخمة بالأهداف والمهام والرغبات، يزداد طولها يومًا بعد يوم؟ موجودة لدينا!
مابين الأحلام المنتظرة والأماني المعلقة يطول بنا أمد التعلق بهذه الحياة، ونتشبث أكثر بها، والحق أن تلك القوائم تفقدنا قيمة ما أنجزناه منها، بمعنى إن كان لديك قائمة بعشرة أهداف مثلا أنجزت منها هدفاً، بدلًا من الفرح بهذا الإنجاز ستجد نفسك تقرأ في الهدف الذي يليه! وما أن تصل للهدف الذي يليه حتى تُفكر بالهدف التالي وهكذا دواليك.
فقضية "التالي "هذه مرعبة ومخيفة، لا تهدأ بها النفس أبدًا، جرب أن تعكس النظرة بدلًا من أن توجه نظراتك نحو هذه القوائم الغير منجزة، جرب قراءة انجازاتك المحققة على أرض الواقع، تايلور هنا تحدثت عن قيمة ما تملك فعلاً وبدأت تستشعر بعظمة مالديها ولكنها تأخرت كثيرأ حتى وصلت لحالة الرضى تلك!.
قصدي في هذا التحليل لا يمت إلى التخلي عن هذه القوائم بصلة، ولا أدعوك لتركها والتوقف عن تدوين مخططاتك وأعمالك، لا� كل الحكاية أني أدعوك وأدعو نفسي معك إلى الإلتفات قليلًا نحو ما قدمناه فعلًا وما حققناه بفضل الله، لا تبخس نفسك حقها.
وخذ نفسك ( الدنيا ما هي دايمة)
وأظن بأني قد وقفت على سبب ضحكاتي تذكرت قائمة الكتب التي أنوي قراءتها! تبدو طويلة بعض الشيء وقد وصلت إلى 4000 كتاب حتى الساعة🌝�"يا من يعيش "
🔻الاقتباس الثالث:
التحليل:
المشكلة الحقيقية هنا هي هذا الظن بأن ما لا نملك أفضل بكثير من الذي نملكه فعلًا، هذا الشعور الذي تخلقه المقارنة الواهمة ما بين الواقع الذي نعيشه فعلاً والخيال الذي نتمنى العيش فيه يُفقدنا الرضا، وإذا فقدنا الرضا فقدنا معه كل عوامل الحياة السعيدة كالهدوء والاستقرار وراحة البال.
يحضرني قول الشاعر :
عجبا للزمان في حالتيه
وقضاء فررت منه إليه
رب يوم بكيت فيه فلما
صرت في غيره بكيت عليه
بالله انظر جيدًا لما هو بين يديك، وتخيل نفسك لا تملكه! استشعر حجم مالديك، تلمس مواطن النعم.
—�
ماذا بعد القراءة؟
تبدو حكايات الموت غامضة، ناقصة ودائمًا تبحث عن إجابات لأسئلة متعددة، ولكلاً حكايته الخاصة مع الموت الذي يجهل نهايتها.
كانَ رَسولُ اللهِ � يقولُ: اللَّهُمَّ أَصْلِحْ لي دِينِي الذي هو عِصْمَةُ أَمْرِي، وَأَصْلِحْ لي دُنْيَايَ الَّتي فِيهَا معاشِي، وَأَصْلِحْ لي آخِرَتي الَّتي فِيهَا معادِي، وَاجْعَلِ الحَيَاةَ زِيَادَةً لي في كُلِّ خَيْرٍ، وَاجْعَلِ المَوْتَ رَاحَةً لي مِن كُلِّ شَرٍّ.
#أبجدية_فرح 5/5🌷📚
�#Իڱ23Ǵǰ𱹾ɲ
#في_معنى_أن_نموت #كوري_تايلر
#دارأدبللنشروالتوزيع
#حيعلىالقراءة
#غردبإقتباس
#مراجعةكتاب
[image error]
October 28, 2016
In brief - There is - for me - a real beauty and simplicity in this brief but powerful book.
In full
Can a book about Dying be considered beautiful? If I had any doubts on that Cory Taylor has removed them. The memoir starts with the simple facts that in her fifties she is diagnosed with inoperable brain cancer. There are three chapters in this short book and the first was powerful for me. There is rational contemplation of suicide together with the possible consequences as well as comments on organisations dealing with assisted dying. She has thoughts on religion and dying and psychologists and dying. Her life before her diagnosis is contemplated particularly writing and travel (and food!). I found this thoughtful intelligent discussion on her situation - dying - thought provoking.
The second chapter looks at her close family's life and background. There are ups and downs and probably things that all our imperfect lives are affected by.
The third part starts with reflections on Cory's childhood particularly in Fiji. Her growing awareness of various aspects of life are exposed. Issues with her parents and particularly her father are looked at surprisingly calmly I think. That said the whole of this book exudes calmness for me. Beauty, love, fear, dreams are in all our lives in some ways however her writing on these was both simple and moving - it is about a life progressing to its end. I really wish my writing could do justice to this last chapter - sadly I am not the writer Cory was however I loved it. This reliving her life, considering the circularity of life "in my beginning is my end", was powerful and beautiful. It ends with a "script for an ending".
If you are someone who one day may die (�) then you may find this book a thoughtful and emotional read - I would recommend it.
Note - I received an advance digital copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for a fair review
In full
Can a book about Dying be considered beautiful? If I had any doubts on that Cory Taylor has removed them. The memoir starts with the simple facts that in her fifties she is diagnosed with inoperable brain cancer. There are three chapters in this short book and the first was powerful for me. There is rational contemplation of suicide together with the possible consequences as well as comments on organisations dealing with assisted dying. She has thoughts on religion and dying and psychologists and dying. Her life before her diagnosis is contemplated particularly writing and travel (and food!). I found this thoughtful intelligent discussion on her situation - dying - thought provoking.
The second chapter looks at her close family's life and background. There are ups and downs and probably things that all our imperfect lives are affected by.
The third part starts with reflections on Cory's childhood particularly in Fiji. Her growing awareness of various aspects of life are exposed. Issues with her parents and particularly her father are looked at surprisingly calmly I think. That said the whole of this book exudes calmness for me. Beauty, love, fear, dreams are in all our lives in some ways however her writing on these was both simple and moving - it is about a life progressing to its end. I really wish my writing could do justice to this last chapter - sadly I am not the writer Cory was however I loved it. This reliving her life, considering the circularity of life "in my beginning is my end", was powerful and beautiful. It ends with a "script for an ending".
If you are someone who one day may die (�) then you may find this book a thoughtful and emotional read - I would recommend it.
Note - I received an advance digital copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for a fair review
June 18, 2018
"I haven't died before, sometimes I get a bad case of beginner's nerves."
Such a lovely book. I cried, and then I cried some more when I learned she died in hospice right after it was published. I wonder what happened to her stockpile of powdered Chinese insurance plan. It's so entirely immoral so many humans are denied the right to choose a safe and peaceful end.
Such a lovely book. I cried, and then I cried some more when I learned she died in hospice right after it was published. I wonder what happened to her stockpile of powdered Chinese insurance plan. It's so entirely immoral so many humans are denied the right to choose a safe and peaceful end.
October 5, 2020
"به محض تولد، مردمان آغاز می‌ش�."
مردن: داستان یک زندگی
کری تیلر نویسنده ی استرالیایی که با سرطان پیشرفته ای دست و پنجه نرم میکرد این کتاب رو قبل از مرگش نوشت تابتونه مرگ رو برای خودش تحمل پذیر بکنه.
از مرگ صبحت کردن هیچوقت برای کسی آسون نیست. مخصوصا برای کسانی - مثل همین نویسنده- که بین لبه ی تیغ زندگی و مردن گیر میکنند و زندگی‌شو� به یک "نمیدانم" بزرگ تبدیل میشه. چون هیچکس از بعدش خبر نداره. که اگه بری چه بلایی سر خونه ت میاد، بچهات و همسرت وتمام کسایی که دوسشون داشتی بعد از رفتنت چیکار میکنن؟ چجوری بامرگت کنار میان؟
توی این کتاب کری از خیلی چیزها حرف میزنه. از ترس‌هاش،� اعتقاداتش، مادر و پدرش، برادری که سال تا سال نمی‌بین� و از همسر و بچه‌هاش� از همه چیز.
مردن: داستان یک زندگی
کری تیلر نویسنده ی استرالیایی که با سرطان پیشرفته ای دست و پنجه نرم میکرد این کتاب رو قبل از مرگش نوشت تابتونه مرگ رو برای خودش تحمل پذیر بکنه.
از مرگ صبحت کردن هیچوقت برای کسی آسون نیست. مخصوصا برای کسانی - مثل همین نویسنده- که بین لبه ی تیغ زندگی و مردن گیر میکنند و زندگی‌شو� به یک "نمیدانم" بزرگ تبدیل میشه. چون هیچکس از بعدش خبر نداره. که اگه بری چه بلایی سر خونه ت میاد، بچهات و همسرت وتمام کسایی که دوسشون داشتی بعد از رفتنت چیکار میکنن؟ چجوری بامرگت کنار میان؟
توی این کتاب کری از خیلی چیزها حرف میزنه. از ترس‌هاش،� اعتقاداتش، مادر و پدرش، برادری که سال تا سال نمی‌بین� و از همسر و بچه‌هاش� از همه چیز.
December 24, 2017
Cory Taylor was born in 1955, and she died of cancer in 2016. Sixty-one seems awfully young to die, especially from my vantage point of fifty-two, and Taylor certainly thought it was premature. She had books she still hoped to write, children she wanted to see established in their adult lives, � plans. And yet, she considers her approaching death with grace and gratitude, refusing, much as Christopher Hitchens did in his death memoir, "Mortality," to snatch up at the last minute religious beliefs she had found implausible while in good health or indulge in complaints about “unfairness.� She dreads the growing suffering and incapacity she knows is approaching, but her love for her husband and sons and her concern for their feelings outweighs her fear and keeps her from using the packet of poison she ordered during her investigation into suicide. Comparing her own death to that of a friend's son, who died at nineteen, Taylor says “the fact that I was dying now was sad, but not tragic. I had lived a full life.�
Much of this “memoir� is about Taylor's parents, whose unhappy marriage left lasting marks on their children, and whose miserable deaths play strongly in her considerations of her own priorities, both in living and in dying. Taylor was close to her mother, and watching this beloved parent die horribly of dementia encouraged her to investigate assisted suicide and then less abrupt methods of dying with the greatest possible measure of dignity and comfort. About her mother's death Taylor writes,
With my own mom currently dying of lung cancer and dementia, this naturally caught my attention. Her view, that the cancer is preferable, matches my own suspicions as I've watched my mother's long decline into increasingly helpless silence from Progressive Nonfluent Aphasia, a form of FTD, and now her rapidly increasing weakness and pain with the cancer. The slow, dehumanizing darkness of dementia or the suffocating pain of the cancer. Of course, my “opinion� on the matter is irrelevant, as well as ill-informed, but I figure that Taylor, at least, had solid insight in that matter and I'm going to take her judgment as a small measure of comfort.
Lest my comments make this sound unremittingly dark, I should say again that Taylor really is not morbid, and her love for her husband, children, and other family, and her gratitude for the life she has lived shine through her book. Her admiration for her mother is a constant, and one of my favorite images in the book, which is filled with memorable images, is from an evening in Taylor's childhood, when she and her mother were taking a trip around the main island of Fiji, visiting beaches. She says,
I love that joyous, free dance at the edge of the void, fearless but tempered by love and kindness. That really stood out for me in this. Taylor has no moral or religious qualms about suicide, but she is deterred by the thought of what that act might do to the people she cares for.
As I'm sure most people do, I think about the narrative shape I imagine for my life, and in connection to this I was rather taken by a service that Taylor tells about her palliative care service providing. Her agency sent out volunteer “biographers,� who visited patients and recorded their stories, to eventually provide bound copies to the families. Taylor's biographer died unexpectedly, but, of course, her memoir accomplishes something of the same purpose, and the process, as well as the thought of the finished product, are therapeutic. A novelist and screenwriter, Taylor explains
A brave, lovely book.
Much of this “memoir� is about Taylor's parents, whose unhappy marriage left lasting marks on their children, and whose miserable deaths play strongly in her considerations of her own priorities, both in living and in dying. Taylor was close to her mother, and watching this beloved parent die horribly of dementia encouraged her to investigate assisted suicide and then less abrupt methods of dying with the greatest possible measure of dignity and comfort. About her mother's death Taylor writes,
"She was in a nursing home when she died, a place of such unremitting despair it was a test of my willpower just to walk through the front door. The last time I saw her, I stood helplessly by while she had her arse wiped clean by a young Japanese nurse. My mother was clinging on to a bathroom basin with all of her meagre strength, while the nurse applied a fresh nappy to her withered behind. The look in my mother's eyes as she turned and saw me watching reminded me of an animal in unspeakable torment. At that moment I wished for death to take her quickly, to stop the torture that had become her daily life. But still it went on, for a dozen more months, her body persisting while her mind had long since vacated the premises. I could not think of anything more cruel and unnecessary. I knew I had cancer by then, and a part of me was grateful. At least I would be spared a death like my mother's, I reasoned. That was something to celebrate."
With my own mom currently dying of lung cancer and dementia, this naturally caught my attention. Her view, that the cancer is preferable, matches my own suspicions as I've watched my mother's long decline into increasingly helpless silence from Progressive Nonfluent Aphasia, a form of FTD, and now her rapidly increasing weakness and pain with the cancer. The slow, dehumanizing darkness of dementia or the suffocating pain of the cancer. Of course, my “opinion� on the matter is irrelevant, as well as ill-informed, but I figure that Taylor, at least, had solid insight in that matter and I'm going to take her judgment as a small measure of comfort.
Lest my comments make this sound unremittingly dark, I should say again that Taylor really is not morbid, and her love for her husband, children, and other family, and her gratitude for the life she has lived shine through her book. Her admiration for her mother is a constant, and one of my favorite images in the book, which is filled with memorable images, is from an evening in Taylor's childhood, when she and her mother were taking a trip around the main island of Fiji, visiting beaches. She says,
”My mother took me out for a reef walk, to the very edge, where the reef drops away and the water changes from turquoise green to blue-black. The surf out there was pounding, the wind was blustery, and I wanted us to turn around and go home. But my mother stood firm, a wild grin on her face, her hair whipping around her head, her arms outstretched.
“Just look where we are!� she shouted, spinning around to take in the sweep of the beach behind us. I realized then how far we had walked, how tiny we must look from the land, two dots against the horizon. And I felt a surge of love for my mother, as if at that moment I might lose her to a rogue wave or a shallow swimming shark, for I knew they were out there cruising in the black water, just metres away.
“The sun's going down,� I said.
“Time to go.�
And so we made our way in, the tide rising around our feet and the sky turning mauve then orange then molten yellow.�
I love that joyous, free dance at the edge of the void, fearless but tempered by love and kindness. That really stood out for me in this. Taylor has no moral or religious qualms about suicide, but she is deterred by the thought of what that act might do to the people she cares for.
As I'm sure most people do, I think about the narrative shape I imagine for my life, and in connection to this I was rather taken by a service that Taylor tells about her palliative care service providing. Her agency sent out volunteer “biographers,� who visited patients and recorded their stories, to eventually provide bound copies to the families. Taylor's biographer died unexpectedly, but, of course, her memoir accomplishes something of the same purpose, and the process, as well as the thought of the finished product, are therapeutic. A novelist and screenwriter, Taylor explains
”In fiction you can sometimes be looser and less tidy, but for much of the time you are choosing what to exclude from your fictional world in order to make it hold the line against chaos. And that is what I'm doing now, in this, my final book: I am making a shape for my death, so that I, and others, can see it clearly. And I am making dying bearable for myself.
I don't know where I would be if I couldn't do this strange work. It has saved my life many times over the years, and it continues to do so now. For while my body is careering towards catastrophe, my mind is elsewhere, concentrated on this other, vital task, which is to tell you something meaningful before I go..�
A brave, lovely book.
October 9, 2020
کتاب با این جمله شروع میشه:
اگر متوجه شوید به زودی می میرید چه میکنید؟
.
نویسنده این کتاب خانم کری تیلر
زاده ۱۹۵۵ و کتاب مردن باتوصیف ترسها دلمشغولیها و خاطرات زندگیش شروع میکنه وتمام سوالاتش درمورد کلیات زندگی و مرگ تو‌کتا� توصیف کرده
درمورد روزهای پایانی عمرش مینویسه و نحوه برخوردش با بیماری سرطانش بیان میکنه
اینکه روزی همه با مقوله مرگ‌مواج� میشن و روزی میرسه که بابت تمام لحظات گذشته فرد یا احساس تاسف میکنه یا احساس خوشحالی :)
.
چند دیالوگ با کتاب:
اوضاع آن جور که باید نیست مرگ برای بسیاری ازما تبدیل شده به مقوله ای ناگفتنی، به سکوتی مهیب
ولی این سکوت به انهایی که دارند میمیرند کمکی نمیکند همانهایی که حالا احتمالا از همیشه بیشتر احساس تنهایی میکنند
حداقل من که چنین احساسی دارم
.
اینکه به مرگ خودت فکرکنی شجاعت میخواهد و همانطور که بیشتر هم گفتم باعث میشود بدجوری احساس تنهایی کنی اما اینکه همصحبت هایی پیدا کنی که مثل خودت دوست دارند بیشتر اگاه شوند پیشقدم شوند وبه مرگ ومیرشان بخندند یک موهبت است
.
غصه خوردن بی حاصل است چون نمیتوانم اوضاع را تغییر دهم امامیزان خوشی هرچه بیشتر باشد تمام که بشود جای خالی هولناک تری باقی میگذارد
خوشحالم که وقتی فرصتش راداشتم طعم بسیاری از این خوشی ها را چشیدم .. وقتی داری میمیری حتی نسبت به غمگینترین خاطره هایت هم تعلق خاطر پیدا میکنی گویی خوشی محدود به اوقات خوش نیست بلکه همچون کلافی نخ طلایی به تمام روزهای زندگی ات تنیده شده
.
احمقانست که‌ک� زندگی مبارزه کنیم و‌نگرا� باشیم وکارهایی را که دوست نداریم انجام دهیم هرچه نباشد زندگی شبیه یک رویاست خیلی کوتاه و ناپایدار !
.
بدن من نشاندهنده زندگی من است،موثرترین مدرک ازتمام کارهایی که کرده ام وهر انچه دیده ام،مقر تمام خوشیها و دلشکستگیها اشتباه ها و‌خردمندیها� باشکوه!
اگراحساس کنم نیاز است خاطراتم رامرور کنم تمامشان باخط رونی روی بدنم حک شده حتی سلولهایم هم یاداور زندگی ام هستند پایان من در اغاز من است
.
باکتاب هم خوشحال شدم هم ناراحت!
بینهایت زیبا اما غم انگیز:)
ترجمه خیلی خوب بود با وجود لغات اختصاصی رشته های مدیکال ، پانویس توضیح کلمات اختصاصی داشت و ایرادی به دستور زبان وارد نبود واذیتم نکرد :)
مرسی از اقای میعاد بانکی
کتاب دوست داشتم چون :
داستان کتاب؛به خصوص مسایل اتانازی ونوع بیماری نویسنده، بارشته پزشکی من کاملا مرتبط بود ومطمینم ، درک احساسات یک بیمار به تصحیح برخوردهای اینده ام باچنین افرادی کمک میکنه و به خصوص بخش اول کتابو خیلی دوست داشتم☺️
اگر متوجه شوید به زودی می میرید چه میکنید؟
.
نویسنده این کتاب خانم کری تیلر
زاده ۱۹۵۵ و کتاب مردن باتوصیف ترسها دلمشغولیها و خاطرات زندگیش شروع میکنه وتمام سوالاتش درمورد کلیات زندگی و مرگ تو‌کتا� توصیف کرده
درمورد روزهای پایانی عمرش مینویسه و نحوه برخوردش با بیماری سرطانش بیان میکنه
اینکه روزی همه با مقوله مرگ‌مواج� میشن و روزی میرسه که بابت تمام لحظات گذشته فرد یا احساس تاسف میکنه یا احساس خوشحالی :)
.
چند دیالوگ با کتاب:
اوضاع آن جور که باید نیست مرگ برای بسیاری ازما تبدیل شده به مقوله ای ناگفتنی، به سکوتی مهیب
ولی این سکوت به انهایی که دارند میمیرند کمکی نمیکند همانهایی که حالا احتمالا از همیشه بیشتر احساس تنهایی میکنند
حداقل من که چنین احساسی دارم
.
اینکه به مرگ خودت فکرکنی شجاعت میخواهد و همانطور که بیشتر هم گفتم باعث میشود بدجوری احساس تنهایی کنی اما اینکه همصحبت هایی پیدا کنی که مثل خودت دوست دارند بیشتر اگاه شوند پیشقدم شوند وبه مرگ ومیرشان بخندند یک موهبت است
.
غصه خوردن بی حاصل است چون نمیتوانم اوضاع را تغییر دهم امامیزان خوشی هرچه بیشتر باشد تمام که بشود جای خالی هولناک تری باقی میگذارد
خوشحالم که وقتی فرصتش راداشتم طعم بسیاری از این خوشی ها را چشیدم .. وقتی داری میمیری حتی نسبت به غمگینترین خاطره هایت هم تعلق خاطر پیدا میکنی گویی خوشی محدود به اوقات خوش نیست بلکه همچون کلافی نخ طلایی به تمام روزهای زندگی ات تنیده شده
.
احمقانست که‌ک� زندگی مبارزه کنیم و‌نگرا� باشیم وکارهایی را که دوست نداریم انجام دهیم هرچه نباشد زندگی شبیه یک رویاست خیلی کوتاه و ناپایدار !
.
بدن من نشاندهنده زندگی من است،موثرترین مدرک ازتمام کارهایی که کرده ام وهر انچه دیده ام،مقر تمام خوشیها و دلشکستگیها اشتباه ها و‌خردمندیها� باشکوه!
اگراحساس کنم نیاز است خاطراتم رامرور کنم تمامشان باخط رونی روی بدنم حک شده حتی سلولهایم هم یاداور زندگی ام هستند پایان من در اغاز من است
.
باکتاب هم خوشحال شدم هم ناراحت!
بینهایت زیبا اما غم انگیز:)
ترجمه خیلی خوب بود با وجود لغات اختصاصی رشته های مدیکال ، پانویس توضیح کلمات اختصاصی داشت و ایرادی به دستور زبان وارد نبود واذیتم نکرد :)
مرسی از اقای میعاد بانکی
کتاب دوست داشتم چون :
داستان کتاب؛به خصوص مسایل اتانازی ونوع بیماری نویسنده، بارشته پزشکی من کاملا مرتبط بود ومطمینم ، درک احساسات یک بیمار به تصحیح برخوردهای اینده ام باچنین افرادی کمک میکنه و به خصوص بخش اول کتابو خیلی دوست داشتم☺️
July 29, 2022
لم تعش بعد صدور كتابها هذا اكثر من شهر ، حينما يبقى من رحل ارثاً يطيب الخاطر فلا أظن أن ذكراه لن تخلد
في حديثها عن حتمية الموت ما يطيب الخاطر فنحن يقيناً نعرف أن الموت أمر محتوم لكننا نحب أن نبقيه بعيداً عن الذكر � حتى أولئك الأطباء الذين يعالجون من هم راحلون تجدهم يتحايلون عن الحتمية بشكل أو بآخر.
في أوائل الخمسينات أصيبت ( كوري تايلور) بالمرض الخبيث فدونت ما تحب عن اهيئة نفسها للعالم السفلي بسرد جميل ممتع � رائع
في حديثها عن حتمية الموت ما يطيب الخاطر فنحن يقيناً نعرف أن الموت أمر محتوم لكننا نحب أن نبقيه بعيداً عن الذكر � حتى أولئك الأطباء الذين يعالجون من هم راحلون تجدهم يتحايلون عن الحتمية بشكل أو بآخر.
في أوائل الخمسينات أصيبت ( كوري تايلور) بالمرض الخبيث فدونت ما تحب عن اهيئة نفسها للعالم السفلي بسرد جميل ممتع � رائع
September 29, 2017
It gives nothing away to write that Dying: A Memoir by Cory Taylor is about Cory Taylor's death from brain cancer. Cory Taylor was sixty years of age when she passed and from the description in her memoir she led an interesting life and had an interesting family.
Taylor's memoir has nuggets of inspirational thoughts throughout the book, as well as insightful observations learned from the experiences in her life.
One passage I especially felt poignant was, "How it ends I'm only now discovering. I can only speak for me, of course, and everyone is different, but dying slowly, as I'm doing, feels like a retreat from consciousness back to the oblivion that precedes it."
Another observation of hers that struck me was how she explains all experiences in our life are actually simultaneous (from this I gathered she meant everything that we do and experience in our life stays with us and influences us through the rest of our life).
This memoir possibly will have the largest impact upon those that have had fewer experiences with the process of dying and death of loved ones in their lives. Unfortunately, to others, like myself, many passages will be familiar.
To me, this memoir was not depressing, but was instead a reaffirmation of my own beliefs when it comes to the process of death and dying.
Taylor's memoir has nuggets of inspirational thoughts throughout the book, as well as insightful observations learned from the experiences in her life.
One passage I especially felt poignant was, "How it ends I'm only now discovering. I can only speak for me, of course, and everyone is different, but dying slowly, as I'm doing, feels like a retreat from consciousness back to the oblivion that precedes it."
Another observation of hers that struck me was how she explains all experiences in our life are actually simultaneous (from this I gathered she meant everything that we do and experience in our life stays with us and influences us through the rest of our life).
This memoir possibly will have the largest impact upon those that have had fewer experiences with the process of dying and death of loved ones in their lives. Unfortunately, to others, like myself, many passages will be familiar.
To me, this memoir was not depressing, but was instead a reaffirmation of my own beliefs when it comes to the process of death and dying.
July 4, 2021
"الكتابة، حتى وإن كنت لا تقوم بها في أغلب الأحيان إلا في ذهنك، تشكّل العالم وتجعله ممكن الاحتمال." "هذا ما أفعله الآن في هذا الكتاب: إنني أصنع شكلاً لموتي، حتى أتمكن أنا والآخرون من رؤيته بوضوح. وأنا أجعل من الموت أمراً ممكن الاحتمال بالنسبة لي."
بالنسبة للمؤمن يشكّل الموت معبراً لحياة أخرى، ورغم أنه يواجهه بذات الخوف الذي يواجهه به جميع البشر مع اختلاف مذاهبهم، لكن إيمانه بوجود قوة عليا تتحكم بالحياة والموت وبوجود ثواب وعقاب يعطيه تصوراً مسبقاً عن ماهيته وعن شكله. لكن في هذا الكتاب الصغير نقرأ محاولة كوري تايلر، التي نشأت بعيدة عن الإيمان الديني ولم تحاول التقرب منه فيما بعد، في تصور الموت القادم لها ببطء وثبات وتشكيله محاولةً فهمه.
في الفصل الأول تتأمل تايلر في الاحتضار، تقارن بين الموت المباغت كما حدث لصديقتها، وبين الموت بعد الخرف وقد ذهب الانسان كله وبقي جسده حياً مثلما حدث مع أمها، وبين انتظار الموت والاحتضار بألم وببطء كما يحدث معها. في الفصلين التاليين تقرر تايلر أن تحكي قصتها بنفسها، لأن الأشياء تُعرف بنقيضها، فإن تايلر تحدثت عن حياتها وهي تحاول تشكيل موتها، نراها وقد عادت لجذورها، جدتها وأمها وأبوها وعائلتها وطفولتها واللحظات الفارقة التي تشكلت في ذاكرتها، وكأنها تقول هذه هي الحياة التي كانت، والموت هو أن يذهب هذا كله. هذا الكتاب مليء بالحنين، مليء بالتساؤلات عن الجدوى، ويحاول تشكيل الموت في عالم من لم ينتموا يوماً ولم يتجذروا في وطن.
بالنسبة للمؤمن يشكّل الموت معبراً لحياة أخرى، ورغم أنه يواجهه بذات الخوف الذي يواجهه به جميع البشر مع اختلاف مذاهبهم، لكن إيمانه بوجود قوة عليا تتحكم بالحياة والموت وبوجود ثواب وعقاب يعطيه تصوراً مسبقاً عن ماهيته وعن شكله. لكن في هذا الكتاب الصغير نقرأ محاولة كوري تايلر، التي نشأت بعيدة عن الإيمان الديني ولم تحاول التقرب منه فيما بعد، في تصور الموت القادم لها ببطء وثبات وتشكيله محاولةً فهمه.
في الفصل الأول تتأمل تايلر في الاحتضار، تقارن بين الموت المباغت كما حدث لصديقتها، وبين الموت بعد الخرف وقد ذهب الانسان كله وبقي جسده حياً مثلما حدث مع أمها، وبين انتظار الموت والاحتضار بألم وببطء كما يحدث معها. في الفصلين التاليين تقرر تايلر أن تحكي قصتها بنفسها، لأن الأشياء تُعرف بنقيضها، فإن تايلر تحدثت عن حياتها وهي تحاول تشكيل موتها، نراها وقد عادت لجذورها، جدتها وأمها وأبوها وعائلتها وطفولتها واللحظات الفارقة التي تشكلت في ذاكرتها، وكأنها تقول هذه هي الحياة التي كانت، والموت هو أن يذهب هذا كله. هذا الكتاب مليء بالحنين، مليء بالتساؤلات عن الجدوى، ويحاول تشكيل الموت في عالم من لم ينتموا يوماً ولم يتجذروا في وطن.
September 5, 2016
'Dying' by Cory Taylor
3 stars/ 6 out of 10
I was interested in reading this short book because I have recently read an obituary of the author.
Cory Taylor spent her latter years in Queensland, Australia. The first section of the book is primarily about her experiences and treatment after diagnosis with cancer. Perhaps because such experiences vary between countries, what Taylor described did not resonate with me. I found the middle section concerning Taylor's life and family much more interesting, although I did feel that I was intruding on the lives of several of the family members. The final section looked back to Taylor's childhood, and was very reflective on her situation as she approached her final days.
I found the book quite interesting, but there are other books on a similar theme that I have found more thought provoking and moving than this one.
Thank you to Canongate Books and to NetGalley for an ARC.
July 21, 2023
قائمة الأشياء التي يود المرء فعلها قبل الموت توحي ضمنًا بنقص ما ، بحشد من الرغبات أو المطامع التي لم تتحقق بعد ، بقلق مؤداه أنك لم تفعل ما يكفي بحياتك ..
الكتاب عبارة عن سيرة ذاتية للكاتبة الأسترالية "كوري تايلر" كُتبت بطريقة روائية أدبية ، تناولت فيها مذكراتها الشخصية قبل وفاتها بعام واحد فقط
وذلك بعد تشخيصها بمرض خطير ، في رحلتها نحو الموت وتفاصيلها الموجعة ، تناولت خلالها شريط ذكرياتها منذ طفولتها وعلاقتها بعائلتها وحياتها في
الماضي والحاضر وتطلعاتها المستقبلية ، تحدثت فيها عن أحلامها وطموحاتها وإنجازاتها وأعمالها ، تأرجحت خلالها مابين قوتها في التغلب على المرض ومابين ضعفها واستسلامها للمرض ومحاولتها
للإنتحار ...
الكتاب مليء بمشاعر الحنين والذكريات ومحاولات الكاتبة لفهم الموت ومراحله ..
الكتاب عبارة عن سيرة ذاتية للكاتبة الأسترالية "كوري تايلر" كُتبت بطريقة روائية أدبية ، تناولت فيها مذكراتها الشخصية قبل وفاتها بعام واحد فقط
وذلك بعد تشخيصها بمرض خطير ، في رحلتها نحو الموت وتفاصيلها الموجعة ، تناولت خلالها شريط ذكرياتها منذ طفولتها وعلاقتها بعائلتها وحياتها في
الماضي والحاضر وتطلعاتها المستقبلية ، تحدثت فيها عن أحلامها وطموحاتها وإنجازاتها وأعمالها ، تأرجحت خلالها مابين قوتها في التغلب على المرض ومابين ضعفها واستسلامها للمرض ومحاولتها
للإنتحار ...
الكتاب مليء بمشاعر الحنين والذكريات ومحاولات الكاتبة لفهم الموت ومراحله ..
April 12, 2016
Perfectly structured, perfectly told. An unsentimental meditation on family, life and death. This is how I want to go out, having written one perfect book.
March 2, 2022
(2.5/5)⭐️
May 30, 2016
I couldn't put this book down and read it from start to finish in one sitting. I was joined by a glass of wine for the final leg. Cory's prose is so honest and resonants with me on a deep level. She tackles those thoughts we'd rather not discuss. Her brutal honesty and most of all her humour keep this memoir real. Since reading it I have had many occasions to recommend it to others, who for a variety of reasons, are grappling with the questions that dying raises. The honesty, humour and deeply personal story make this a compelling read. Don't balk at the title- this is not s self help manual, rather it is a starkly honest and unshrinking staring down of death. My love and thoughts are with you Cory.
November 8, 2023
برای بار دوم خوندمش. همچنان قلبم رو لمس می‌کر� و خیلی عزیز بود برام. ولی بخش دومش این دفعه برام یه کم کمتر جذاب بود و برای همین پنج ستاره� تبدیل به چهار ستاره شد.
بچه‌ه� تو مدرسه دو سه نفر خیلی دوسش داشتن و یه سری بنظرشون مزخرف محض بود. و غصه خوردم که اینقدر دنبال روایت‌ها� ماجرامحورن و سختشونه روایت‌ها� عادی زندگی رو خوندن. گرچه شایدم اقتضای سن باشه. نمی‌دون� :)
بچه‌ه� تو مدرسه دو سه نفر خیلی دوسش داشتن و یه سری بنظرشون مزخرف محض بود. و غصه خوردم که اینقدر دنبال روایت‌ها� ماجرامحورن و سختشونه روایت‌ها� عادی زندگی رو خوندن. گرچه شایدم اقتضای سن باشه. نمی‌دون� :)
August 30, 2020
”کمک� داشت شهر و دیاری پیدا میکرد� اما آن‌قد� دیر شده بود که دیگر برایش اهمیتی نداشت.�
January 10, 2018
"That is what I am doing now, in this, my final book: I am making a shape for my death, so that I, and others, can see it clearly. And I am making dying bearable for myself."
What an extraordinary little book.
Its brave and forthcoming, and asks all the hard questions. Cory Taylor wrote this in the final weeks of her life. She has let us, the reader, see into her inner self as she struggles to understand what it means to die.
Taylor muses about her life, how it was a good one. She says "The fact that I am dying now was sad, but not tragic. I have lived a full life". She says she can look back at her life, and not yearn for what she didn't do, but instead find contentment in what she has.
She explores the hard topics of the right to die, assisted dying, dying with dignity, and the right to choose. She relates her experiences with doctors, palliative care agencies, psychologists, religion and support groups - how the act of dying is somehow a taboo subject, even among services who's purpose is to ease and support the act of dying.
This was a glimpse into to mind of someone who is preparing for their own death. A quietly dignified account of her journey to the end.
What an extraordinary little book.
Its brave and forthcoming, and asks all the hard questions. Cory Taylor wrote this in the final weeks of her life. She has let us, the reader, see into her inner self as she struggles to understand what it means to die.
Taylor muses about her life, how it was a good one. She says "The fact that I am dying now was sad, but not tragic. I have lived a full life". She says she can look back at her life, and not yearn for what she didn't do, but instead find contentment in what she has.
She explores the hard topics of the right to die, assisted dying, dying with dignity, and the right to choose. She relates her experiences with doctors, palliative care agencies, psychologists, religion and support groups - how the act of dying is somehow a taboo subject, even among services who's purpose is to ease and support the act of dying.
This was a glimpse into to mind of someone who is preparing for their own death. A quietly dignified account of her journey to the end.
November 22, 2022
"حين تكون مشرفاً على الموت، حتى ذكرياتك الأكثر تعاسة يمكن لها أن تبعث نوعاً من الحنين، كما لو أن المتعة ليست مقتصرة على الأوقات الطيبة"
..
" الموت المفاجئ يبتر كل المقدمات المروعة، ولكني أتخيل أن يخلف ندماً فظيعاً على كل الأشياء التي تُركت دون أن تقال إلى الأبد"
..
- ملاحظة: العنوان موهم ولا يعبر عن مضمون الكتاب وإن أشار إليه المترجم في المقدمة والعنوان الفعلي هو "الاحتضار".
- سيرة ذاتية للكاتبة الأسترالية كوري تايلر تروي فيها قصتها مع الموت البطيء حينما شخصت بإصابتها بسرطان الميلانوما عام 2005، وبعد معاناة طالت ١١ عاماً توفيت قبيل نشر كتابها بشهرين، الكتاب ككل يعيد تفكيرك بالموت وإن كان وقعه على القلوب مرعباً، وكيف للمرض أن يسلب من الإنسان انسانيته ويجعل من الموت زائره المألوف، الكتاب يحمل حزناً بين جنبيه ولعلها كانت تشعر بدنو أجلها بعدما تمكن منها المرض في أواخر الأيام، فألفت لنا سيرتها ذاتية.
..
" الموت المفاجئ يبتر كل المقدمات المروعة، ولكني أتخيل أن يخلف ندماً فظيعاً على كل الأشياء التي تُركت دون أن تقال إلى الأبد"
..
- ملاحظة: العنوان موهم ولا يعبر عن مضمون الكتاب وإن أشار إليه المترجم في المقدمة والعنوان الفعلي هو "الاحتضار".
- سيرة ذاتية للكاتبة الأسترالية كوري تايلر تروي فيها قصتها مع الموت البطيء حينما شخصت بإصابتها بسرطان الميلانوما عام 2005، وبعد معاناة طالت ١١ عاماً توفيت قبيل نشر كتابها بشهرين، الكتاب ككل يعيد تفكيرك بالموت وإن كان وقعه على القلوب مرعباً، وكيف للمرض أن يسلب من الإنسان انسانيته ويجعل من الموت زائره المألوف، الكتاب يحمل حزناً بين جنبيه ولعلها كانت تشعر بدنو أجلها بعدما تمكن منها المرض في أواخر الأيام، فألفت لنا سيرتها ذاتية.
July 10, 2016
A short, clear-eyed memoir, written in the face of inoperable cancer. Sad, but not sentimental, and somehow hopeful in spite of everything.
October 3, 2020
کتاب را گرفتم چون از مترجمش کتاب گرسنگی را خوانده بودم و بسیار دوستش داشتم. با توجه به عنوان کتاب، گمان میکرد� سرگذشت‌نامه‌ای‌س� که فقط از مرگ و بیماری نویسنده می‌گوید� خیال میکرد� چیزی‌س� شبیه رمان مواجه هبا مرگ اما كمى كه پيش رفتم فهمیدم اینگونه نیست. در پس این عنوان ساده، مسائل بسيار مهمترى هم هست. نویسنده از اینکه چگونه هویت‌ا� شکل گرفت و چگونه به خودآگاهی رسید می‌گوی�...از ترسها� کودکی و بزرگسالی‌‌ا�... از اینکه بعد از مرگ پدر و مادر، خانواده چگونه از هم می‌پاشن�(این بخش عالی اما دردناک بود). جالب این است که تیلر برای تک‌ت� جملات و حتی دیالوگ‌های� دلیل دارد. جمله‌ا� در این کتاب نیست که بی‌دلی� نوشته شده باشد. ممکن است یک جایی بگویید «علت گفتن این جمله چه بود!؟» اما جلوتر می‌فهمی� نویسنده برای آن جمله هم دلیل داشته است. کری تیلر همانطور که در آخرین صفحات کتاب اشاره می‌کن� داستان زندگی‌ا� را زمانی نوشته که مطمئن است مدت زیادی زنده نیست و نای صبحت ندارد. شاید در خط به خط کتاب سایه� مرگ احساس شود اما کتابی� نیست که موجب ترس و ناامیدی شود. ترجمه� کتاب واقعا عالی بود
این کتاب کوچک اما تاثیرگذار را بی‌هی� حرف دیگری پیشنهاد می‌کن�
این کتاب کوچک اما تاثیرگذار را بی‌هی� حرف دیگری پیشنهاد می‌کن�
October 11, 2024
“My body is a dying animal.�
Taylor also suggests that modern life means we are “condemned to die longer.�
Of course, one could make an undeniable argument we are condemned to death from the moment of birth. The ultimate pre-existing condition, the precursor for death in every instance, is being born in the first place.
So, learning about death and dying is to ponder the nature of life and living.
The result in this volume is a beautifully packaged little book that I would reread for fun and inspiration. Life and death are always intertwined.
Cory Taylor, an Australian writer, died shortly after this book was published. She wrote to make sense of the world, to capture moments of connection and magic, and in this memoir she wrote to make sense of her life and the need to leave it all behind. This book is the blossoming of her consciousness, the fruition of life lessons, and a reflection of the gentle loving-kindness of Cory Taylor's spirit.
Taylor also suggests that modern life means we are “condemned to die longer.�
Of course, one could make an undeniable argument we are condemned to death from the moment of birth. The ultimate pre-existing condition, the precursor for death in every instance, is being born in the first place.
So, learning about death and dying is to ponder the nature of life and living.
The result in this volume is a beautifully packaged little book that I would reread for fun and inspiration. Life and death are always intertwined.
Cory Taylor, an Australian writer, died shortly after this book was published. She wrote to make sense of the world, to capture moments of connection and magic, and in this memoir she wrote to make sense of her life and the need to leave it all behind. This book is the blossoming of her consciousness, the fruition of life lessons, and a reflection of the gentle loving-kindness of Cory Taylor's spirit.
September 6, 2016
Illness narratives are fast becoming my go-to books. I find reading about the process of dying both fascinating and humbling. From the outset, Taylor's memoir is incredibly well written. At no point is it self-pitying; rather, her tone is measured and hopeful, startling and truthful. Dying is both easy and difficult to read; the former because of its fluent prose style and the latter obviously because of its subject matter. Taylor is courageous, thorough and thoughtful, and has created an incredibly important book.
I shall leave you with one of my favourite quotes from Dying: 'But I'm used to dying now. It's become ordinary and unremarkable, something everybody, without exception, does at one time or another. If I'm afraid of anything it's of dying badly, of getting caught up in some process that prolongs my life unnecessarily.'
I shall leave you with one of my favourite quotes from Dying: 'But I'm used to dying now. It's become ordinary and unremarkable, something everybody, without exception, does at one time or another. If I'm afraid of anything it's of dying badly, of getting caught up in some process that prolongs my life unnecessarily.'
August 3, 2021
زندگینام خوندن برای من اصولا لذت بخشه، گرچه اغلب غم و غصه� خیلی بیشتر از خنده و شادیشه.
«مردن» راجع به زنیه که سرطان بدخیم داره و در فکر اتانازیه. از خودکشی فرار میکنه چون به فکر تروما و آسیب روحی‌ای� که بعدش به همسر و فرزندانش منتقل میشه.
برای من -با افکاری نسبتا همسو با نویسنده(مریض نیستم)- خیلی جالب بود. انگاری یسری تفکرات قبل یچیزایی یکسانه.
یه جا میگه که زمانی که دعوت شده بوده به یه شوی تلویزیونی تا به سوالاتی از مردم راجع به ��غییرات زن��گیش بعد از آگاهی به مرگ، یه نفر ازش پرسیده بوده که آیا فهرستی از آرزوهای پیش از مرگش داره؟
و جواب میده که همیشه دوست داشته نویسنده باشه. نه نویسنده� فیلمنامه یا هرچیز دیگه، نویسنده� یک «رمان». تا بتونه حرفش رو بگه و باقی بمونه.
من رمانی از خانم تیلر که نهایتا سال ۲۰۱۶ از دنیا رفتن نخوندم، ولی بنظرم با این کتابشون با توصیفات قشنگ و شفاف کردن خیلی چیزها،به آرزوشون رسیدن.
«مردن» راجع به زنیه که سرطان بدخیم داره و در فکر اتانازیه. از خودکشی فرار میکنه چون به فکر تروما و آسیب روحی‌ای� که بعدش به همسر و فرزندانش منتقل میشه.
برای من -با افکاری نسبتا همسو با نویسنده(مریض نیستم)- خیلی جالب بود. انگاری یسری تفکرات قبل یچیزایی یکسانه.
یه جا میگه که زمانی که دعوت شده بوده به یه شوی تلویزیونی تا به سوالاتی از مردم راجع به ��غییرات زن��گیش بعد از آگاهی به مرگ، یه نفر ازش پرسیده بوده که آیا فهرستی از آرزوهای پیش از مرگش داره؟
و جواب میده که همیشه دوست داشته نویسنده باشه. نه نویسنده� فیلمنامه یا هرچیز دیگه، نویسنده� یک «رمان». تا بتونه حرفش رو بگه و باقی بمونه.
من رمانی از خانم تیلر که نهایتا سال ۲۰۱۶ از دنیا رفتن نخوندم، ولی بنظرم با این کتابشون با توصیفات قشنگ و شفاف کردن خیلی چیزها،به آرزوشون رسیدن.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 635 reviews
Can't find what you're looking for?
Get help and learn more about the design.