She met in the midst of war the man she would eventually marry. We begin with Hitchens’s mother, Yvonne, whom he depicts in the first chapter as a uniquely vibrant woman, captivating in both physique and affect. To read this book, then, is to be of two minds: to appreciate its author’s talent, zeal, and clarity and also to deplore its evasions, simplifications, and pretensions. One moves gingerly through the pages, borne by Hitchens’s frisky, penetrating sentences, and then bam: something-a needlessly crass description, a condemnatory generalization, or, worse, blatant hypocrisy-halts all the fun. For while Hitch-22 is in many ways a beautiful book, intensely passionate and finely written, as one would expect, its considerable allure is marred by multiple jarring portions and ugly moments. His readers will definitely know what it means to keep opposing ideas alive in the same mind.
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