Happy New Year to one and all! In the January issue of New English Review, our favorite doctor contemplates death, expanding his vast library, the gambling habits of his uncle (the best man he ever knew), and the value of playing the lottery.
But in the face of the inevitability of death, what hope is not illusory, or at least not of fleeting duration? And yet, who would, or can, live without hope? Better a false hope than a realistic despair. La Rochefoucauld said that we can stare for long neither at the sun nor death; T.S. Eliot said that humankind cannot stand very much reality. Illusion is essential to human existence.
I found this article to be very moving. Dr. Daniels is someone I idealize, and I feel a great deal of gratitude and admiration towards him. Reading an article where he contemplates his own death makes me sad. However, aside from that, I really enjoy it when Dr. Daniels reveals new personal information about relatives or himself. It’s thrilling, as the person one idealizes—about whom usually not much is known regarding their private life, and who remains most of the time a ‘shadow figure’—comes closer to oneself, and the distance one might feel towards them becomes smaller.
Thank you for sharing the article here!