This review comes hot on the heels of the last one because I had a spate of finishing several books that I had been reading simultaneously. If you’re a “poly” reader like me, then you probably understand this, and might even have a few on the go yourself. After all, it makes sense. A faced-paced, unputdownable thriller is not ideal bedtime reading, while that heavy classic loaded with weighty prose is a sure-fire no-no for the dentist’s waiting room. And so on.
This post’s book of focus, also known as Sixty Days Left, came into my life unexpectedly, when I happened to meet its author on Twitter. Ahh the joys of modern social media when one can reach out to strangers on the internet begin a meaningful exchange and form a new connection - all in less than 140 characters.
While being intrigued by the invitation to read a book that hadn’t yet been published, I have to admit that if I had seen this particular book on the shelf in a bookshop (or indeed, on a virtual shelf in the online equivalent), it’s likely that I wouldn’t have spared it a second glance. And that’s not because of the cover - indeed, I like the cover very much. It’s more because of the sorrow and heartache foretold in in the book’s title, premise and blurb. How could a book about the last days of a terminally ill cancer patient be anything but melancholy? And I usually try to avoid deliberately seeking sadness. Nevertheless, I was not about to turn down a chance to be an Advance Reader for a soon-to-be-published new novel.
In the end I was not destined to be an Advance Reader. I became merely a Reader. My month of illness prevented me from attempting the book’s heavy themes while I was recovering, so the book’s launch had already taken place by the time I came to post my review on Goodreads. Nevertheless, read the book I did, and here’s what I thought.
Spoilers warning: If you’re inspired to read Sixty Days Left and prefer surprises, I recommend skipping the rest of this post. I may discuss stuff that gives away the ending. Although the ending of the story is also its beginning…
Yes. In an occasionally mind-bending regression through a rabbit-hole of time, we read the journal of Willow - terminally ill cancer patient - in reverse order, beginning with Day Sixty. That’s the day she’s chosen as the day when she takes advantage of Oregon State’s permitted Death With Dignity (physician-assisted death) as a way of triumphing over her cancer symptoms before they reduce her to a puddle of pain and misery.
It can be rather startling to read the last chapter of a story first. Especially when you reach the end of the chapter and, just pages into the book, realise that it’s really the end for Willow. Her story stops there. Her last day is spent appreciating the beauty of physical existence and writing a last plea of mindfulness to those who continue on after her death.
"Don’t wait until you know when your life will end to begin living it. Do it now.”
Having been knocked breathless by acute poignancy of those last words, we continue on to the next chapter. And meet a new Willow. Day Fifty-Nine - one day earlier. She is slightly more fearful, slightly less accepting, slightly more sassy and sarcastic. And so it goes, onwards and backwards through this journey.
She spends her last 60 days attempting to come to terms with her past, heal old hurts, reconcile with friends and family, and do the things she’s always wanted to. In short, she’s making up for lost time. However, far from becoming a whirlwind of enjoyment, the book maintains a light but firm grasp on reality. As must be the case with practically any life, but especially for a person dying before their 31st birthday, the diary is full of things that Willow never figures out and never gets to grips with. It is a lament of things left unfinished.
The book also presents a heartrending illustration of irony. Willow seems to have been a person who had trouble making firm decisions about anything throughout her life. She drifted and wavered, pressured by conflicting senses of obligation to the people around her. It took her impending death to kick-start her into prioritising her own needs. Some of her last actions are those of a decisive and confident woman who knows what she wants. A person to admire in fact. Realising that she would lose everything made her brave enough to take risks. And she’s truly spectacular in places. She’s big enough to forgive people for their flaws. Smart enough to take it on the chin when some of her attempts to complete the items on her bucket list go awry. There are some truly funny moments, for example in her quest to start a pay-it-forward chain at the fast food restaurant which ended up thwarted by logistics.
As author, Andrea Lechner-Becker, explains on her website, the book is inspired by the story of Britanny Maynard, a brave young woman, unlucky enough to develop terminal brain cancer, who opted for Death with Dignity at the age of 29. Her youth and social media presence kept her tragic story in the spotlight. Although Sixty Days Left in no way reflects Brittany’s own story or life, it surely has something of the same effect of bringing the issue of aid-in-dying into public focus. The book’s utilisation of modern possibilities for embedded links in digital books lead us to Willow’s open letter on aid in dying, which she mentions in her journal as being her way of “changing the world, a little”. In the letter, she takes an entirely forthright approach to condemning the lack a universal option for dignified death for people who have received a terminal diagnosis.
The thorny question of aid-in-dying invariably brings up religious questions. On that note, I would go so far as to label the book nonreligious. When it comes to the question of her own life and how she chooses to lead and end it, Willow is firmly in control. Indeed, the moments where religion pops up in the book are usually in the form of deeply pious people who feel it is their duty to remind Willow of the sanctity of life and the subsequent wickedness of her decision (having little thought for the suffering they thereby condemn her to endure). However, that is not to say that the book is without spirituality. The joy of mindfulness and appreciation for the natural world is present in practically every chapter. Encounters with a psychic/fortune teller, as well as with her father’s closest friend bring Willow a sense of connection to the souls of loved ones that is profoundly affecting to read.
Having read the story to its conclusion, I can only reiterate that it’s probably not the type of book I would have chosen for myself. However, as is ever the case when we come into contact with something outside our own frames of reference or comfort, I came away feeling enriched for having done so.