Bests & Worsts Reviews from Amazon

This book is a sorry affair. Mitch Albom found a gold mine: one of his (many, and certainly forgotten) college professors, who by all means was a sweet, nice guy (and probably a good or great teacher too) is dying a slow, painful death. Albom gets back in touch with Morrie, the professor, and feels (I am willing to concede) true compassion. Then he holds weekly conversations with the dying man, so that later he can share with the rest of the world Morrie's wisdom. Morrie gives, on a weekly basis, lessons on "life." You can't go wrong with such a story, given that so many of us are eager to find ultimate truths, and invest our lives with purpose and meaning. Most of us can feel relieved to see that this dying man, in all his unquestionable wisdom, stands for love, peace, family, compassion and a better world, thus confirming the principles we stand for. See? It's not just Jesus. Now Morrie has confirmed for us that this is the true way of life. The cold reality, however, is that a slow and painful death does not give Morrie's view, or anyone's, legitimacy. While I am all for love, peace, and so on, I cannot find anything particularly fascinating about Morrie's dying Gospel. At the beginning of the book I thought this could be an interesting story. Mid-way through my reading, however, I was extremely annoyed. The book relies on the "wisdom-of-the-dying-man fallacy" and, once you get past the touchy-feely content that Albom so keenly stresses over and over, you wonder: Is there anything of value in this book? Is there any difference between reading this or listening to the average priest or pastor's sermon on Sunday or listening to what any good fellow has to say? When people know they are dying, they change. Maybe Morrie was always a saint, but it's no wonder that everything that can possibly come out of his mouth now is benevolent, compassionate, and loving. He's been blessed with a wonderful family who takes care of him to the end. And Albom himself deserves some credit: by appearing once a week to make sure Morrie's thoughts and feelings remain with us after his death, he undoubtedly helped Morrie die a happier death. Morrie's ideas, however, are plain, and always conservative. For example, he recommends us to form families, because without a family, he "could not go through this." Fear of ALS does not strike me as a great reason to start a family. Albom is a terrible writer. His grammar is poor (e.g. " 'Why, I asked?' ", misplacing the question mark, instead of " 'Why?' I asked "), he has no further thought to add to what Morrie says, and he does not bring any outsider into the lecture either. Whatever Morrie says is sacred, legitimate by virtue of the slow death of a virtuous man. Furthermore, and the reader too absorbed in the main message (where Albom directs him/her) may not notice, Albom knows virtually nothing about Morrie. If you do the math, you realize that Morrie became a college professor late in life, in his 40s or 50s. His life before that is summarized in a paragraph or two that are way too sketchy. At some point, Albom tells us that Morrie loves to dance and that he dances by himself, free and wholesome. Later, he refers to Morrie's many "dance partners." The book is not about Morrie at all. Albom knows almost nothing about Morrie's life, and he certainly could not care less about it. Why? Because he doesn't need Morrie's life story. His slow and cruel death, plus bits and pieces that show us that he is, in his final weeks and without information about his past, a nice and loving man, is all he needs to invest Morrie with the wisdom of a prophet. I read this book after someone recommended it to me because I am a college professor myself. The recommender thought that I would love the glorious story of a professor's wisdom. If some students remember me after years have gone by, I would very much prefer that they do so on account of whatever they got from me in the classroom--things like challenging arguments, intellectual engagement and tools to examine our social world--rather than for being a nice guy who says nice things about life. If I happen to die a slow, cruel death, and some Mitch Albom wants to make it more bearable for me by coming to see me every week, so be it, and thank you. But please don't bother to read the posthumous book. I'll be dead and I won't care.