Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
"Things coming to an end, artists' last works," and "time running out" are forthrightly probed in this soulful meditation. Novelist and essayist Dyer (Otherwise Known as the Human Condition) surveys a multitude of gifted people as they edge toward quitting time, including the long twilight of tennis great Roger Federer, Nietzche's collapse into madness just when his philosophical ideas were catching on, Jack Kerouac's descent into lifeless writing after On the Road affirmed his greatness, and Bob Dylan's endless touring with a voice that's been "shot to hell." Dyer also explores his own experiences slouching into his 60s--slowing down, suffering injuries that dampen his tennis game, and, on the upside, smoking psychedelics with an aging surfer buddy. Dyer's musings unfold in a loose-limbed ramble of bite-size biographical sketches, artistic and literary appreciations, and wry reflections. ("It's not just that time passes more quickly as you get older; life becomes progressively less eventful.... For the young a year lasts for ages, and a night in--a night spent not getting wasted--feels like a wasted life.") Dyer's mix of sparkling prose, rich insight, and mordant wit suggests that a well-lived life is worth even the bitterest of endings. It makes for a smart, memorable take. Photos. Agent: Andrew Wylie, Wylie Agency. (May.)
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Review by Library Journal Review
This collection of mostly short essays of the author's ruminations on different interpretations of endings offers interesting trivia and thought exercises for readers. Dyer pontificates on his own life's endings, bringing in a memoir appeal, but also relates stories from the sports worlds of tennis and boxing, the music arena from The Doors to John Coltrane, and the lives of various literary figures from Friedrich Nietzsche to Eve Babitz. While structured loosely into three parts, each vignette connects into the next as a kind of meandering train of thought, giving the reader ample room to question how we are remembered and how an ending can be altered and perceived, all while enjoying the commentary. At times the book seems a little random, but Dyer leisurely ties it all together with humor and inquisitiveness and offers a satisfying collection of reflective essays on life and memory that can be read with pauses to think. VERDICT Recommended for general collections, but probably has more appeal for older readers.--Amanda Ray
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Review by Kirkus Book Review
The prolific, award-winning writer reflects on endings, loose and otherwise. In his latest unique work, Dyer, pondering Federer's imminent retirement, delves into "things coming to an end, artists' last works, time running out"--and whatever else strikes his fancy. Now 63, the author's understated, witty prose, written amid the "interminable Covid moment," carries him along on a jaunty, wide-ranging, personal stream-of-consciousness rumination as the clock ticks down. Obsessed with the concept of a "magnificent life whatever ruin comes in its wake," Dyer opines on literature, film, art, philosophy, music, and, of course, tennis in numerous interconnected, journal-like entries. He opens with some riffs on the Doors' sprawling epic "The End" before moving on to tennis star Andy Murray's retirement announcement and how it affected him. The author discusses his admiration for Bob Dylan and his voice: "How could it not be shot to hell given what he's put it through, the unbelievable demands he makes on it"? Then he jumps to Jack Kerouac, Boris Becker, and D.H. Lawrence's ongoing refusal to confront death; the "dissolution of the physical world" in J.M.W. Turner's late paintings; and Nietzsche's life and work. Thinking about how "we love the idea of the last," Dyer considers how Albert Bierstadt's painting The Last of the Buffalo led to the end of his career, and a disquisition on attending Burning Man confronts the "indescribable wonders" he experienced. The author worries about going to his grave without ever having read this or that book or seen that film. Then it's on to writers who wrote one book, found success too soon, or, like athletes, made a late comeback, and John Coltrane's final phase. Concluding, Dyer turns for help to Louise Glück: "I think here I will leave you. It has come to seem / there is no perfect ending." Quite true, as the author sometimes loses his way in this maze of wistful meanderings. A rangy, rambling assemblage that will appeal most to Dyer's fans. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
