The thing with this book is, of course, all about how amazing the human being was who wrote it. To have the guile and determination to create an alphabet based on a series of eye-blinks is worth two stars all on its own.
Which is why I've given two stars. Otherwise, the book itself as a stand-alone memoir of a man slowly passing into death is, albeit brave, not overly insightful nor majestic. It's sad, sure. I mean, it's f*@%g depressing as s#*t, but I'm pretty sure anybody just giving you their basic thoughts on how it feels to lose everything and slowly die as a vegetable would pretty much cover that emotion.
You can't really critique this book, 'cause the guy's dead, but if one were to attempt to be critical I'd say that it would have been nice to read a more poetic, majestic, philosophical mind's version of these events, rather than the editor of a French fashion magazine.
I'm just being honest, but RIP Bauby.