Reflections on Tuesdays with Morrie

I can't say it held my interest the whole time.



Favorite line in the book,
"And I was right. It came. But it missed me. It struck my brother."

It's not to say it's a bad book. Not at all. I enjoyed the little stories on African tribes more than anything. On dying and living. It came at a right time. I am, what a joke, worrying about dying at the grand age of 22 and reading it lightened things up a little.

But to be honest, I couldn't enjoy the book and its values.

While I do think that life is beyond fast cars and big houses, I also believe that life would be incomplete without these worldly luxuries. There is the age old saying after all, "I'd much rather be crying in my Ferrari than on a beat-up bike."

Was it inspirational? Barely so. Bukowski got me depressed every single time I started and restarted on it, and I adore his fucking insane mind all the more for that. But this book, as with the lead, is a slow and painful one, fraught with values that only the dying can appreciate.

I can't say I enjoyed it. And I can't say it changed me in the least. But I can tell you - the pretentious folks who put this book on the list of their favourites list probably didn't read past chapter seven.

How can you like this book, agree with its values, and still carry a career and chase girls and worship money when this is a book about giving it all up?

The audacity of some people.