Man has conquered his inhibitions to talk about everything other than his own demise. Death is, famously, the last taboo — and, judging by many of the reviews of Philip Gould’s When I Die: Lessons from the Death Zone, we are no closer to breaking it.
The novelist Justin Cartwright describes himself as ‘racked with doubt’ about the correct response of the reviewer of a book that charts a man’s preparations for death from oesophageal cancer. He goes on to ask seven questions on that theme and gets no closer to an answer.
Meanwhile, the author Richard Holloway admits (£) to being ‘disturbed by the desperation with which we have become a culture that will do almost anything to keep death at bay.’ This is an odd sentence. Life and death are not cultural; they are personal. It is natural to fight for one’s life; and it is natural to use the language of conflict to describe the ultimate battle of mind over matter. As Gould puts it, ‘[It is only when confronted by death that] life screams at you with its intensity.’
I was lucky to survive a stomach haemorrhage when in my teens. I recall being in a post-operative intensive care unit and the frail old woman in the bed next to mine died. Witnessing someone die in an anonymous hospital room smashed the conceit that death is serene. After a multitude of ever shortening breaths, the throat emitted a final, rasping rattle as the body expired. Then there was peace, or at least quiet.
All of this goes to show that every death is different, because Philip Gould, as described in an essay by his daughter attached to When I Die, triumphs over death. His final weeks are filled with joy, beauty and the indescribable power of love, as is the moment of his death. His conclusion is that although death cannot be overcome, it will not defeat the indomitable human spirit. Gould’s experience and optimism offers the promise of more. We will have to wait to see what precisely it is.
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