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��At some point, there would simply be no point.��

"Still Alice" is a beautiful and thought-provoking book about the terrible disease that is Alzheimer's. It is a book about losing yourself, piece by piece, and watching all of your memories, all of your words and all of your loved ones slowly slip away. It is heartbreaking.

In this book, Genova asks a bunch of very interesting questions. Mostly she writes, and asks, about identity - what it consists of, and whether or not your memories determine who you are. In a speech Alice declares, that she believes her identity lies in her soul - and not in her brain, but the question is left open for yourself to decide and discuss.

While this book is both important and deeply touching, it is also lacking something. Genova never does seem to decide which perspective she wants to write from and whose story she wishes to tell. She jumps conveniently around - sometimes she's inside Alice's head, and sometimes she reveals things as seen from the outside. As a result, the novel loses a bit of its power.
(view spoiler)[Genova also skates too easily past serious topics such as suicide and will-power. Alice wanted to commit suicide, but is unable to go through with it, as she conveniently forgets where she put her pills. I perfectly understand why Genova wants to avoid killing off her character - but the solution just feels too easy.
The book ends with a rosy picture of family and love - which is perhaps a bit too romanticized. At least it seemed so to me. (hide spoiler)]

All in all, I do regard this as a beautifully moving book, and I'm happy that I've read it. I'm just sad that it didn't touch me as much as I had expected it to.