The Beauty of Dusk by Frank Bruni

The Beauty of Dusk Reviews

• 
  Diane Barnes

  I finished this book last night while waiting with my husband in the emergency room. He had experienced crazy blood pressure spikes and drops, a racing heartbeat, and a general sense of lethargy all day. He's fine ( it was not a heart attack), we came home at 2 a.m., let the dog out and went to bed. Little things.
  
  How appropriate to be reading a book about aging and loss and finding the beauty in all those things we've taken for granted while we concentrated on raising families and getting ahead. Aging begins at birth and so does loss. Bruni recalls a philosophy professor in college teaching that all of life is adjusting to loss. He was a successful columnist for the NYT when, at the age of 52 he had a stroke affecting the optic nerve in his right eye. It not only gave him limited vision on that side, but he faced the very real possibility that it could happen in the left eye as well, leaving him blind. He not only gives us his story, but delves into others who have experienced disability of one sort or another, and lived happy lives in spite of, or maybe because, it forced them to change direction.
  
  A beautiful book that brims with joy, hope and possibility, written by a man who knows how to write about important things, like the love of a dog, good wine and food, friends and family, and taking each day as it comes. You know, the little things.
• 
  Barbara

  I usually am not attracted to memoirs, a genre that seems particularly popular lately. I wanted to read this because I have been reading Frank Bruni's editorials in the NYT for years and love his skill with words. I also agree with his political point of view. What could have been a sentimental rehash of "making "lemonade out of lemons" was a beautiful evocation of how important perspective is when adversity pounces.
  
  Frank Bruni's heartfelt writing about the sudden loss of sight in one eye due to a stroke affecting the optic nerve is so relatable. Yeah, yeah, we've heard it all before: be thankful - life is good. But I need that reminder once in a while, maybe every day. Those I pass by or know only casually may be dealing with crushing hardships. As Bruni says, "We can't control what happens to us, but we can control how we react to it."
  
  Sometimes, Bruni says, adversity can heighten experiences in ways we may not have realized previously. Dog lovers will relate to lessons the author learned from his dog, finding pleasure in small things and having a new zeal for life. Adversity may bring out an inner strength we may not have known we had. It can give us a deeper compassion for others, an electric current of shared hardships.
• 
  Elyse Walters

  Overdrive library Audiobook…read by Frank Bruni
  ….8 hours and 46 minutes
  
  I’ve never forgotten Frank Bruni’s memoir, “Born Round”, written in 2009. I still own and treasure my Hardcopy.
  At the time, Frank was the restaurant critic for the New York Times.
  I came away feeling a huge heart for this beautiful man!!
  
  So now — years later —I just finished ‘listening’ to
  “The Beauty of Dusk”.
  I must thank Diane Barnes …
  I hadn’t even notice this book — until her wonderful review recently….
  Frank Bruni (feel good) memories came rolling back to me. I was happy to read this new Bruni memoir
  [I’ve been on a memoir kick since the pandemic- in part because soooo many authors
  wrote ‘theirs’ during the pandemic….and also in part — because many have been extraordinary…. or ‘at least’ wonderful daytime - move- with- me companions]….
  
  I admit being nervous when Frank started describing
  non-arthritic anterior optic neuropathy….
  because Paul has been struggling with neuropathy for years (medication helps - but he still deals with pain)….
  And now — he has a sudden eye problem (a year ago we had eye tests -everything was fine for both of us)…
  This past week — Paul is having a sudden change in one eye (it’s hard for him to see out of it)….
  so of course —I listened to Frank’s ‘blurred vision’ with a tad of fear and hope (for Paul).
  
  But this memoir stretches far beyond the medical diagnosis…(Frank had a rare type of stroke during the sleeping hours that left him with loss vision in one eye).
  
  Frank opens our eyes - authentically to aging - to dealing with medical illness, disabilities- and loss from being able to do what we were once able to do — with TONS of WISDOM….
  pre-mature disabilities—
  the effects of losing eyesight - the fear, vulnerability, affects on ‘all’ aspects of life - and our relationships.
  
  He included a poignant discussion about
  hearing loss vs. eyesight loss …and why people play the debate game …
  “would you rather lose your eyesight or your hearing?”
  Seems life a silly debate-game when faced with reality of a very real physical set-back.
  
  Frank is a half glass full guy - and spins a thoughtful perspective on reasons ‘half full’ — rather than ‘half empty’ actually really helps … (not as a panacea of heroism)… but as much as a part of ‘moving forward- accepting- and being at peace with the way things are).
  
  Frank offers up a valuable debate for optimism rather than pessimism.
  
  Given that everyone of us deals with hardships of one kind or another — Frank offers us sincere inspiration.
• 
  Gary Moreau

  The man can write. If you love the written word, as I do, that alone is worth the trouble to take in his prose. It’s witty. It’s profound. It’s succinct. And you never need to open a dictionary. It doesn’t get much better.
  
  Bruni lost the sight in one of his eyes, or at least all clarity of sight, to a non-arteritic anterior optic neuropathy, which, to his credit, he only writes out once. Recovery was unlikely and there was always the chance that the same thing would eventually besiege his other eye and he would be essentially blind. He was fifty-two.
  
  There are two major themes to the book, but a lot of context around each. The first is that with catastrophe can come perspective, but he goes out of his way to note that it’s not a zero-sum exchange. This is not a book about silver linings. It is more a book about our ability to grow as people if we have the tolerance to do so. “Someone somewhere has probably floated the proposition that for every loss there’s a commensurate gain, but that’s not what I’m peddling here.”
  
  The second theme is the central core of Buddhist belief and what every therapist, without exception, will tell you – life is suffering. Sometimes, however, it takes a little suffering to see it around us, a sad reality that can be a further catalyst to more of that personal growth. He suggests we all wear sandwich boards detailing our suffering to spare us the time and awkwardness of discovery. A good idea conceptually, I think, if not quite practical on a crowded urban sidewalk.
  
  There are digressions. About his partner. About a dog. About the many people he has met in his work and the places he has been. He ultimately wraps them all up in a bow, however, and you ultimately realize that digression is his ultimate theme, although even he may not agree with that assessment.
  
  In 1962, at the age of eight, with pediatrics in its infancy, my parents were told that the frequent seizures I was experiencing would likely be permanent and that they should plan accordingly. I spent a year in isolation because although there was nothing wrong with my thinking our public schools were not so enlightened in those days as to allow me to attend. (Seizures would be too disruptive.) And when I was allowed out of bed I was forced to wear protective headgear to protect my head in case it came into contact with the corner of the coffee table. (Childproofing a home wasn’t an industry yet.)
  
  Not long after the dire diagnosis was delivered, however, the doctors ran what was to be a strictly diagnostic test involving draining all of the fluid from around the brain and replacing it with gas, without anesthesia, a procedure which modern neurologists who have looked at my file routinely refer to as barbaric, but I haven’t had a seizure in the sixty years hence. My existence at the time, in fact, prepared me well for life during the pandemic when I often found myself wondering why people were so distraught over the solitude of the lockdown. (I didn’t have Netflix in 1962.)
  
  My point is that Bruni gave voice not only to his own affliction, but to the affliction all of us have suffered in one form or another. Only he did it with the skills he has honed over a long and distinguished career, skills that few of us could have brought to the task.
  
  The result is insightful, delightful, and inspiring. I highly recommend it.
• 
  Lisa

  Bruni writes about the challenges of losing his vision and brings his personal struggles into a broader context by looking at other people who have faced various physical and mental health challenges. The result is a generous and hopeful book that I really enjoyed.
• 
  Cynthia

  It pains me to say this as I am a fan of Bruni’s criticism and editorial writing, but I think this was about 80-100 pages of good material stretched out to a 300 page book. Probably would have been a wonderful article for the Sunday NY Times Magazine. But not a 300 page book!
• 
  John Amory

  Frank Bruni's mastery of language is overshadowed only by his ability to tap into the deepest of human emotions and break them open.
  
  The Beauty of Dusk is a meditation on grief, aging, and, most importantly, adaptation. It is about humanity's need for clarity, despite the nearly constant blurry signals we are given in our search for it. It is about our ability to change, to empathize, to be vulnerable. It is about treating yourself with grace and how, once you do, you can extend that kindness to others. It is about taking the losses and making them gains, savoring every moment while it is happening, and learning to be content with your own existence, however messy and imperfect it may be.
• 
  Frederick Gault

  A lovely feel-good discussion of what it is to be disabled in some way. The author suffers a loss of vision and much to his surprise it becomes a learning experience of profound measure. He is amazed to learn that not only is it part of aging, but that he develops a new approach to perception. Everyone is different, and his loss of vision is part of who he is. This leads to the revelation that almost everyone he encounters has something about their uniqueness that might be considered a disability, but is often simply who they are. He begins to find people who travel without vision but describe in great detail what they experience because sight is not the only way to "see".
  
  Our brains construct a view of the environment around us, and all senses are used. If we lose part, or all of one, or more, senses, the brain will simply construct a view of the environment given the information at hand. Usually this is quite sufficient for a person to live a full and purposeful life.
  
  He goes on to note that aging is not simply loss, but gain as well. One gains what might be called wisdom, and one can gain a more serene relationship with living once past the career-building years. He points to aged people at the pinnacle of life, such as Ruth Bader Ginsberg, Dr. Anthony Fauchi, and President Biden to name just a few.
  
  This is a terrific book!
• 
  Gavin

  Review of
  Frank Bruni's Memoir
  The Beauty of Dusk: On Vision Lost and Found
  
  Successful journalist with first world problems gets grounded when he wakes one morning with visual impairment in his right eye.
  
  Now he decides to write a collection of stories about people who suffer adversity and can manage their life and push through it to succeed.
  
  And for some reason he lets us know he got a dog and is surprised that it has a modicum of intelligence.
  
  Unfortunately, it's comparable to a book about athletes and competitive sportspeople, where all he does is talk about Olympic gold medal winners and Superbowl champions.
  
  This is in no way a book which reflects the everyday reality of life for people with disabilities and those suffering with constant pain or illness.
  
  I was hoping for some greater insight into the troubles and life changes due to blindness. Instead, we get glimpses into Bruni's life and his contemplations "analysis paralysis" about the inevitability of growing old.
  
  I'm sorry, but no matter how well Bruni writes this is over simplified and hasn't added much to the discourse on coping with disability.
• 
  Jeanne

  I went to bed with more grievances than I could count. I woke up with more gratitude than I can measure. My story is one of loss. It’s also one of gain. (p. 1).
  
  Visual problems run in my family. My father is blind from low-pressure glaucoma, my great-aunt from macular degeneration. My daughter had a cataract in her left eye at five, which made her effectively blind in that eye. You'd never know. My brother has had a detached retina. So, I couldn't stay away from Frank Bruni's Beauty of the Dusk, where he considers his own blindness as a result of a stroke that left one eye "smeary" and at 20-40% probability of losing his vision in his other eye.
  
  The major reason I read Beauty of the Dusk, though, is that I am a long-term fan of Bruni's, reading his New York Times blog weekly. I love the compassion, insightfulness, and love of the written word that characterizes his work. He includes a regular feature called Love of Sentences in his blog, which is just what it says. His readers nominate lovely bits of journalistic writing.
  
  Doctors are flawed. They’re human. We want them to be gods, because we want that certainty, that salvation. We want clear roles: The doctor commands; the patient obeys. But, at times, in their imperfection and arrogance and haste, they make assumptions and mistakes. So it’s crucial to approach a relationship with a doctor, any doctor, as a partnership and to consider yourself an equal partner, respectful but not obsequious, receptive but skeptical. (p. 59)
  
  Although Bruni talks about his diagnosis and treatment experience, his grief when he and his partner decided to split up, his father's dementia, this is a hopeful book. He meditates on grief and aging, yes, but more on coping, adaptation and change, and possible wisdom. Disability is not inevitable but one possibility, even in response to blindness, Parkinson's, and loss. He discovered that vulnerability and openness rather than rigid denial can lead to joy. He treated himself with grace – and was more able to listen to others' pain and extend compassion and kindness to them: "We don’t get to choose what we’re given in the way of hardship, and each of us—every last one of us—is given something" (p. 100).
  
  Bruni does these things with a considerable dash of good-hearted humor, as when he shares Todd Blenkhorn's riffs about the confusing language about blindness. "Legally blind? …I’ve never done any paperwork or anything.” Visually impaired? Maybe visually inconvenienced? No. “Visually inconvenienced—I picture a sighted person on the beach when I walk through their line of sight with no shirt on… “That person has been visually inconvenienced. Possibly visually traumatized” (pp. 244-245).
  
  Beauty of the Dusk isn't a lemonade sort of book (when God gives you lemons, make lemonade), but a recognition that there can be gains with losses, that life can and should be savored every day, maybe especially after learning that life is short.
  
  "When one eye closes another opens. That’s not a fact. It’s a perspective, which makes it no less true" (p. 241).
• 
  دُعاء| Doaa

  It’s the kind of book that makes you think and appreciate what you have. To live the momemt, vivdely.
  His well-articulated words make you look at life from a different perspective. There were a few chapters. I genuinely fought the urge to skip them, but I didn't.
• 
  Chris

  I have followed Frank Bruni’s writing career for decades and when he has a new book come out, I’m right there. When he wrote in the New York Times about waking up with blurred vision in one eye, and the subsequent months of doctor visits and prognosis, I read with interest; as someone who can be considered legally blind without my glasses, let alone one who makes a living reading and writing, I couldn’t imagine what I would do if it were me. Bruni asks that question of himself, but also of others: when hit with a life trauma or horrifying event, what are you going to do with that? How will you navigate your life going forward? He recounts the terror of the “what if”-- what if that other shoe drops, or in this case, the possibility the other eye goes blind? He faces this scary question head on, bringing his reader on his new life path. And along the way we meet others, friends and also new acquaintances, some who have gone through unspeakable health crises and other traumas. Bruni focuses on their stories of resiliency and what they do (or have done) to carry on. “Accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative” is how the song goes. And this doesn’t mean that there aren’t incredibly dark and sad times in their lives, but everyone, himself included, are prime examples of moving forward and taking one fork over the other in the road to continue walking and living life.
• 
  Susan

  I . LOVED . THIS . BOOK !!!
  
  We all accept misfortune or the negatives as part of life. 'Children learn what they live' is an old and true adage. Wedding vows contain the pros and cons of living together. Little sayings abound; yet are full of truth.
  
  When I was born the OB used forcepts for a breach delivery. I was left with a head injury which resulted in epilepsy, ocular damage to the right eye and a slight imbalance. When born with hidden disabilities, a patient knows nothing else; their life seems "normal" to them. My parents were never helicopter parents. They wanted me to enjoy childhood and life as much as humanly possible. I seldom thought about health issues other than I have always taken medications and knew some things were dangerous for me, but certainly not off limits; common sense was advised.
  
  As science and medicine improved (and I grew up), I became aware one autoimmune disease often led to others and felt fortunate that I'd been able to raise my son and work in a demanding career which was thriving and enjoyable for decades without further heath issues. In my early 50's diabetes reared its head, followed a few years later by lupus and RA. Then the cataract surgeries (left was successful; right not so much). Later, a retina surgery for a hole in the right eye, which did not heal as expected; my vision is simply grey. Next: a YAG Capsulotomy scheduled for June 28th (quick, easy procedure). My Ophthalmologist hopes for improved light rather than an improvement in vision. I'll take whatever is possible at this point since I'm actually using the left eye for vision.
  
  An accident which totaled both vehicles and left me with massive bruises, a concussion, as well as three fractures in my back and another in my left leg resulted in a full body brace for almost five months and daily injections of FORTEO since I was unable to undergo anesthesia (due to seizures). My Rheumatologist recommended the use of daily injections of FORTEO for up to 24 months to build the strong bones I desperately needed. It worked in 18 months! No surgery; no seizures. Much stronger bones left me grateful to be healthy, alive and finally back to normal routines a couple of years later after some extensive PT.
  
  Like Frank Bruni, I have maintained twice daily long walking in all kinds of weather. Also working in my beloved flowerbeds, volunteering in the community, the City Parks, Church landscaping committee, local Democratic Party, and donating time and talents to various organizations.
  
  But Frank Bruni looked at his diagnosis of the probable loss of vision in his right eye in a philosophical manner, becoming a much gentler and wiser person as a result. Shortly after the diagnosis, his partner of almost 10 years decided to leave the relationship for another person. This memoir of his journey following a stroke which resulted in the deterioration of his eyesight is wickedly clever with language and subtle humor. Bruni continues as a writer for New York Times in spite of his limited vision and churns out best-selling books occasionally.
  
  "Why me?" There is a better question, of course. "Why not me?"
  "We don't get to choose what we're given in the way of hardship, and each of us--every last one of us--is given something." ~Frank Bruni (pg. 100)
  
  'Why should any of us be spared struggle, when struggle is a condition more universal than comfort, than satiation, than peace, maybe love? Should we even be calling or thinking of it as struggle, which connotes an exertion beyond the usual, a deviation from the norm?' (pg. 107).
  
  "The truth is that we all have more pain than the world typically knows." ~ Betsey Stevenson (pg. 129).
  
  "We can't control what happens to us, but we can control how we react to it." ~ Frank Bruni
  
  Aging, acceptance, living with, goals, new priorities, "God", and the loneliness of a disability. Profound writing explores what is important in life after a diagnosis of loss of eyesight. This is a deep insight (puns intended) into Frank Bruni's altered vision of his life and how he adjusted to living with the sudden dark side. Unlike me, he talked about it - a lot. He asked other people for their experiences and shared his.
  
  He learned pure joy from his dog and her joy of living. Simply, without many possessions; with shared companionship, regular meals, exercise, and long, sound sleep. Few demands placed upon her or by her. Bruni took this to heart and altered his lifestyle. A quiet peaceful calmness enveloped him.
  
  Frank Bruni's remarks with Bob Kerry, former Governor of Nebraska, caught my attention. Bob Kerry was one of the intelligent, charismatic people I campaigned for during his runs for office. We periodically visited over drinks in a quiet bar in Lincoln's downtown business district. Seldom was Debra Winger with him. He was a politician before he was a boyfriend and needed to visit with his colleagues. He grew up in Lincoln and tried to help a very red state with its conservative voters think about future generations. Most Nebraskan's know about Bob Kerry's heroic role as a Navy Seal and his loss of a lower leg. Bruni dug deeper to discover the sadness and pain Kerry still endures from those wounds so many decades ago which few Nebraskans know. Fabulous and sensitive writer!
  
  Like Frank Bruni, the Pandemic brought relief with solitude, reading and enjoyment of community landscaping in City Parks, on University property and for my Church. Volunteering with others outside, safely 6 feet apart was fun, rewarding, educational, and kept a small social life alive while talking about books, favorite music, politics, and more! We had adapted well during the COVID outbreak and made new friends in safe places with like-mined people.
  
  Bruni wrote a book during the pandemic which I read and thoroughly enjoyed. His writing in the Times is always a favorite of mine, but 'The Beauty of Dusk' is an excellent read for everyone!
  
• 
  Casey

  When writer Frank Bruni suddenly woke up with vision loss from a stroke in his eye, he wasn’t expecting all that he would gain.
  
  While this “loss” (emphasis on the quotes) is the pivotal event of the book, it read more like a series of short stories all woven together by a common discovery by those who have experience life-altering changes; there is so much beauty to be found in the breakdown. Sometimes the breakdown is vision loss, sometimes it’s grief, sometimes it’s cognitive decline like in the case of Bruno’s own father living with dementia. Dusk looks different for all of us.
  
  I love a good tangent and this book was a buffet of them: interviews with fascinating people like the blind architect, dance instructor and world explorer who have persisted and thrived despite vision loss, scientific dives into our brains’ wild ability to pivot and, my favorite, a series of anecdotes that cut the fluff of a deeper lesson and illustrate what it’s actually like to lose the senses we take for granted. I lost track of the times I looked up and though “Woah. I never considered that.” Like how, when going blind, you have to use your current stock of photographic memories as a catalog to refer back to to imagine the world, your loved ones and even yourself as if everyone’s age is sort of frozen in time.
  
  One of my favorites asides was the chapter about how getting to know his recently-adopted dog, Regan, paralleled his own experiences of learning to live in the present and reevaluate what is actually needed to live a full life. Together, they slowly savored their days, one walking trail at a time, discovering the simplest beauty that was right there in Bruni’s backyard the entire time, before life forced him to slow down and bask in it. Being an unabashed dog lover who is constantly in awe of all that animals teach us, I could have read an entire book about this relationship between man and his best friend.
  
  As a New York Times journalist of 25+ years and an esteemed journalism professor at Duke University, Frank Bruni has clearly already proven his writing chops many times over, but I will vouch for his storytelling anyway. The experiences of those he interviewed alongside his own is proof of our resilience that left me feeling hopeful and in awe of human resilience as I closed the book.
  
  As one of his interviewees, esteemed Judge David Tatel who happens to be blind, put it, “Starfish regrow limbs. But that’s nothing compared to what humans do.”
  
  Disclosure: I received an ARC of this book as part of a Goodreads giveaway (and am so thankful for that!).
• 
  C

  This feels like a good essay that was placed on a torture rack until it became a book.
• 
  Rick Rapp

  This book was a gift from a a good friend. It was not on my radar; Bruni was a writer with whom I was unfamiliar. My friend told me it was a good read and that he was someone I would appreciate. She was certainly correct. The book centers around his loss of sight in one eye as the result of a stroke. The resulting tests, uncertainty, and fears all were related to us. But it moves past that. Bruni progressed into the phase of acceptance as well as an appreciation for the things he did have. This is always wonderful advice, but it can be somewhat unlivable. I think of the scene from Our Town where the dead Emily Webb asks to go back to the living for one day and, granted that wish, she chooses a birthday. It is not a pleasant experience for she realizes that we are too busy rushing through life to notice and appreciate each other as well as the things around us. Bruni encourages us (through his own experience) to do just that. He also touches on the issue of aging and realizing (maybe even relishing the fact) that certain things aren't in our wheelhouse anymore. With an impending birthday (and faced with assorted health challenges), this was good to read and internalize. But, more importantly, because we are older doesn't mean we are through living or through experiencing life in whatever ways we are able. This life-affirming sentiment came to me at a perfect time. This is not a "Pollyanna" tome. Bruni presents the challenges and self-doubt he faced. But his decision to "keep going" is inspiring.
• 
  Rambling Reader

  Pretty dreadful. Pedantic and self indulgent.
• 
  Vanesa V

  I wasn’t expecting to enjoy this book as much as I did but WOW. Frank Bruni does a fantastic job talking about his possibility of going blind in an uplifting and humorous way
• 
  Wendy

  I am a big fan of Frank Bruni's NYT columns and was so sad when he left his full-time job there after his stroke and subsequent loss of vision. Fortunately, he continues to share his thoughts in a weekly column on Thursdays, which I eagerly look forward to. Bruni is a gifted wordsmith who can turn a phrase like no other. His writing is always beautiful, profound, and never cliched. The same can be said for his most recent memoir, in which he shares the details of his stroke and subsequent loss of vision and its effect on his life. While the book is about his injury and life, he shares perspectives of others who've lived with disease and loss. He also talks about aging, and as his words so often do, a great deal of what he said hit home with me. I loved most when he talked about his dog, Regan, and her positive impact on his outlook. He certainly is in a very good place right now. What an uplifting, inspiring read!
• 
  Dianne

  A lovely and uplifting read for the last book of 2022.
• 
  Elissa

  I have many thoughts on this book. For starters, my mom has NAION so I am familiar with the diagnosis through firsthand experience with her. We had both read Bruni’s columns in the Times and were so excited to have this book come out. We’ve always said that it will take someone really famous to raise awareness on NAION— non-arteritic anterior ischemic optic neuropathy. It is called non-arteritic because there’s reduced blood flow so it’s like a stroke, but to consistently call it a stroke in this book is very misleading. Perhaps my biggest problem with this book is that it doesn’t really take into account how little research is being done on this condition and how, because of this, all doctors have different beliefs and opinions as to what causes it, why, and what can be done. An instance of such a conflicting opinion per his book is when he talks about Dr. Moazami’s misdirection. She had recommended that he take oxygen on a plane with him because it’s widely believed that you shouldn’t fly for a few months after your first NAION attack. When he consulted the clinical neuro-ophthalmologist about this, they had posted in an online group where most people agreed that flying posed little to no risk. He then is quick to bash Dr. Moazami saying that doctors are flawed but doesn’t touch on the harsh reality: there is no research being done on NAION so NO ONE knows for sure, not even the doctors of the clinical trial.
  
  
  Something else that bothers me is how he briefly talks about how NAION has affected his professional life, but doesn’t touch much on the personal aside from spilling coffee the first morning he woke up with blurry vision due to lack of peripheral vision. It is true that everyone with this condition sees differently, but I expected more focus to be on how he’s made adjustments and has coped. Instead, he goes on in a series of what feels like mini essays with other people with disabilities unrelated to NAION. He does talk about visual struggles briefly in certain sections— enlarging font, raising point size from 18 to 22 to give a lecture, driving at night, but there’s not much day-to-day explanations. Again, I know that everyone is different. I’ve seen it firsthand from my mom’s NAION support group that I found online for her. There are many components to NAION— dark vision, no depth of field, and constant blurriness just to name a few. Someone might not be able to cook as much because they don't have the depth perception to chop food, someone can continually question whether there is a curb or if the sidewalk is flat.With so many unknowns in a seeing world, even the simplest of daily tasks are difficult. All this to say, I wish I had seen more a personal side to Bruni’s story rather than him digressing into other people’s stories and dropping names or, at the very least, I wish he had interviewed other people with NAION and make this a book solely about vision loss and coping with it.
  
  
  As I continued reading, this book became more about people in general and less about him, NAION, and raising awareness like I was led to believe. In my humble opinion, this book is marketed as something it’s not and has provided some misconceptions of NAION in the process. Some of the reviews refer to this condition as solely a stroke, in which most assume it’s a bodily stroke not related to the optic nerve specifically, and some refer to low vision as complete blindness. There are various levels of low vision. Blindness signifies no vision whatsoever whereas low vision signifies seeing under a certain standard, which even Bruni points out. Some people with NAION are fully blind in one eye, while others are not. I wish this book had stressed more that everyone with this condition is different and ultimately, this is a mysterious condition that affects few people. My point is, for a book marketed to be about vision loss, the book was lacking in material.The synopsis sounded much better! If anything, read only the first third of it…
• 
  Sarah Brotman

  One of the best books I’ve read this year. Reminded me of Atul Gawande’s “Being Mortal” but from a raw perspective that was both uplifting and vulnerable at times. Makes you think about what “loss” means and how to authentically reframe hardship. Definitely plan to meet Frank Bruni before I graduate! 10/10 would recommend
• 
  Laura Lea

  In The Beauty of Dusk, Frank Bruni, recounts and reflects upon his life as he wakes up one morning with blurred vision in one eye. He shares with us the steps he takes, from first brushing it off to not getting enough sleep, to the realization something is truly wrong, to his diagnosis that he has suffered a rare stroke. He takes us on a self reflecting journey as he comes to accept what has happened to him and how he moves forward both in his everyday life and as a writer. He journeys to meet new people with similar vision conditions and shares with us their incredible spirit and inspiring way of life.
  
  This story is one of true beauty. Bruni shares his life and those he comes to know in such an inspiring and optimistic way. This will make you rethink your own ideas on life and those around us. "It's an example. It has a moral: While we have minimal control over the events that befall us, we have the final say over how we regard and react to them".
  
  Frank Bruni is an eloquent writer and I am so thankful to have been given the opportunity to read his work. Prior to this, I had heard his name before as a columnist, but had never read his writing. He is a master of the written word.
  
  I received an ARC in exchange for my honest review and I thank the publishers and author for the chance to read this wonderful book.
• 
  Drick

  In 2017 Frank Bruni woke up to discover that he had a stroke which had cut off the blood supply to his optic nerve, leaving him blind in one of his eyes. Bruni goes on to describe how he adapted to this seemingly tragic loss in his life and saw it as an opportunity that opened up new perspectives and experiences. In this book he profiles numerous individuals who like him had suffered physical "disabilities" (a word he rejects), but had found new ways to be and move in the world. Bruni ties this to the ageing process and suggests that while there are losses as we age, we gain perspective and wisdom. The book is well written, encouraging and a needed corrective to our youth-oriented society.
  
  While I found Bruni's insights to be extremely helpful, I was struck by how nearly all his interviewees were people who had the means and relational connections to make the transitions they made. What is missing is help for those on the lower end of the socioeconomic scale who simply don't have the space and resources to draw on as those Bruni interviewed. Such people do exist on the forgotten edges of our society whose stories also need to be told. However, they are not part of Bruni's world nor did he seek them out.
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  Heather Fineisen

  Frank Bruni is a descriptive and thoughtful writer. In this volume, he covers disabilities and aging after he loses sight in his eye. This is not only his story. He peppers his own experiences with anecdotes of other disabled individuals, sharing his longing and optimism. My favorite chapter is when he chronicles his dog, Regan's, becoming his and their bonding. I was also struck by his take on spirituality when he muses his God represents Rules of Conduct. Having had a detached cornea myself, I could easily relate and we are aging so there is that.
  
  
  
  Copy provided by the publisher and NetGalley
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  Lynn

  A Writer Contemplates Blindness
  
  A gently moving account of NYT writer Frank Bruni’s account with a stroke that damages his optic nerve in his right eye and has a 40% chance of damaging his left eye. As a writer, he wonders what it is like being blind and still write. He talks with people who have become disabled. Good read.
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  Jan

  An engaging and very thoughtful book on coping with loss--on compensating for loss--on over-coming loss. I needed this book right now.