I had to figure out which book I owned had an "ugly" cover for the Bingo card. I ended up diving into The Thing About Life Is That One Day You'll Be Dead by David Shields, which has been sitting on the Kindle for a very long time. I wasn't sure I wanted to tackle it as my own parents are about the age of Shields' father. He figures largely in this odd memoir that combines details about how we are born, age and die with memories of his curmudgeonly dad. In the end, I enjoyed it although parts could be depressing if you dwell too much on the inevitable end of us all. The message I took was to do as much as you can as long as you can but try not, as many of us do, deny that inevitably. Shields comments at one point that humans often face the deaths of others but somehow believe they will not die. Interesting paradox.

Very inventive and unique style. Bits of narrative and memoir were wrapped up in multiple facts of life and death and the human body, with quotes liberally sprinkled in. I can see why some people would roll their eyes at such a book, but I thought it was quite fun despite being a book about death. ( )

Shields uses facts and statistics to distance himself from the emotions he feels about his father. Interspersed stories about their lives show the competitiveness he feels toward him. He also tries to show how closely sex and death are tied together.
Not a very rewarding read. ( )

This is an unusual book. The author combines myriads of statistics related to human physiological development with reminiscences and current stories about his father. He even includes some stories about his daughter in the first part of the book.

Frankly, its a bit of a mishmash. However, he makes it work with the his (I assume) very honest and personal reflections about his father. ( )

The thing about this book is that sometimes it annoys. I actually decided to stop reading it when I was halfway through. But the other thing about this book is that often it's very interesting. Probably it's about half and half, and the half you like better (or the half you'll find annoying) will depend on what kind of writing you respond to.

There are roughly three modes of discourse in the book: the personal/family memoir, the straight scientific fact, and the liberal heaping doses of quotations from others.

The aspects of personal memoir are generally rather interesting. Shields's discussion of life as a quick progression toward sexual maturity and a long, long decline toward death is framed by a kind of sketchy dual biography of himself and his father. It's easy to see why he is fixated on his father, who is 97 at the time of the book's writing. He's a colorful guy, personable, quick with a story, and unrelenting in his desire to live as long as possible.

The scientific facts are often interesting, sometimes depressing in their bare expression of our biological condition. I often found these quite thought-provoking, although at times they provoked thoughts that preferred not to be disturbed. Anyone who is distinctly uncomfortable with contemplating his or her own mortality is hereby warned not to pick up this book. At other times, the litany of facts about the human body, how it matures, perpetuates its genetic code, and eventually breaks down feel too unleavened by some other voice. Fact after fact after fact can weigh on the reader, and after a while I felt justified in skimming some portions.

Finally, the cascade of quotes often have the same effect the scientific facts have. In fact, this is the least engaging aspect of the book. While Shields has plucked many excellent quotes and arranged them in a kind of conversation among themselves at times, this method felt unmediated by an authorial presence at times. Given that his more recent book, Reality Hunger, plays up this mode, it's clear he intended something like this. Perhaps in time this will seem brilliant. For now, given that I'm still very much attached to the kinds of storytelling traditions that Shields seems to find outmoded and restricting, this is where we part ways. I more often skimmed the quotes than I did the science, because, while there is a similar sense in both modes of reading an unmediated recitation of someone else's words, science has a tendency toward a direct, somewhat generic tone. I feel less assaulted by an array of literary "talking heads" when Shields layers on the facts, even if a glance at the source material would suggest he's operating at the same scant level of intervention in both cases.

Having been as annoyed as I've been with this book, I can't give it a particularly high rating. But since I found it compelling enough to come back to it even after quitting it, I can't give it a particularly low rating. Readers seem very much split on this one, either loving it or hating it. I did both in turn, so I'll land in the middle and hope that suggests both the worthwhile benefits of the book and the drawback inherent in its idiosyncratic execution. And in case you're on the fence, I'll reiterate the conclusion that's already featured prominently in the title: Everybody dies, even you. ( )