In Death Be Not Proud, John Gunther explores the process of death: discovery, fighting, living on, and then dying. The process becomes just a little bit easier, as humor, human kindness and courage all are woven in. More than just about dying, this memoir becomes a study of living. Gunther asked himself the larger questions: "Why was Johnny being subjected to this merciless experience?" And, then he says, "suffering is an inevitable part of most lives." He wanted to believe there was some greater purpose, like the works of art that came out of Milton's blindness and Beethoven's deafness. He says, "perhaps the entire harrowing episode would make his brain even finer, subtler, and more sensitive than it was."
We know Death will win, but Death need not be proud. Johnny fought a valiant fight; and, along the way, he gained the respect of his family, friends, his doctors, and strangers. His life becomes a sort of experiment. And, in the end, the doctors could do nothing. "All the doctors!--helpless flies now, climbing across the granite face of death."
Johnny was sometimes able to function at a level that could almost be called "normal," but he was continually faced with the realization that his mind was deteriorating. His memory began to fail him, as more of the healthy tissue was taken over. As Gunther writes, "All that goes into the brain--the goodness, the wit, the sum total of enchantment in a personality, the very will, indeed the ego itself--being killed inexorably, remorselessly, by an evil growth!" And, no matter what new treatments they tried, they couldn't find a cure.
A Fight to the Death
The struggle against death is a fight against the void, against the loss of life--the spark. It is, as Gunther says:
"A primitive to-the-death struggle of reason against violence, reason against disruption, reason against brute unthinking force--this was what went on in Johnny's head. What he was fighting against was the ruthless assault of chaos. What he was fighting for, as it were, the life of the human mind."
Ultimately, Death came, like a thief in the night. The warmth of his body crept away. "Then little by little the life-color left his face, his lips became blue, and his hands were cold."
He was 17 years old. He would have attended Harvard. But, none of that mattered, as everyone who knew him remembered his life. Frances writes of her grief and remembrance: "My grief, I find, is not desolation or rebellion at universal law or deity. I find grief to be much simpler and sadder... All the things he loved tear at my heart because he is no longer here on earth to enjoy them. All the things he loved!"
Like John Gunther, Frances asks the big questions: "What does it mean? What can it mean, now?" But, then she draws upon the universality to her discussion of death: "Parents all over the earth who lost sons in the war have felt this kind of question, and sought and answer. To me, it means loving life more, being more aware of life, of one's fellow human beings, of the earth."