I don’t know which one is more frightening, fear of death or losing your memories through dementia. This book is everything I didn’t want to read about in my current state—suffering from a killer routine where days and nights keep looping and looping seamlessly. That’s why I could relate to Penny. Perhaps, way too much to the point where the book pushed me away. Such a shame, really. I wanted to love this one as much as I enjoyed Ian’s first two books. But I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to read something like that. Don’t get me wrong. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with this one. Yes, it’s predictable from page one, but it was a nice dissection of old age, immortality, and the meaning of life and equally death.
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