Mortality

Mortality Plot Summary

Introduction

Christopher Hitchens was a literary titan whose voice resonated with uncompromising clarity in the intellectual landscape of our time. Known for his razor-sharp wit, encyclopedic knowledge, and fearless confrontation of orthodoxies of all kinds, Hitchens carved a unique path as an essayist, critic, and public intellectual. Born in Portsmouth, England in 1949, he evolved from a young socialist firebrand into one of the most formidable debaters and writers of his generation, leaving an indelible mark on political discourse, literary criticism, and religious debate. What made Hitchens extraordinary was not merely his intellect but his unflinching commitment to intellectual honesty even in the face of his own mortality. When diagnosed with esophageal cancer in 2010, he approached his illness with the same analytical rigor and defiance that characterized his journalism and criticism. Through his final journey, we witness a remarkable example of maintaining dignity and intellectual integrity while confronting the ultimate human challenge. His experience offers profound insights into how we might face our own mortality, the importance of rejecting false comfort, and the power of language as both weapon and solace in life's most difficult battle.

Chapter 1: The Voice of Reason: Hitchens' Intellectual Legacy

Christopher Hitchens possessed an intellectual voice that was instantly recognizable for its eloquence, erudition, and rebellious spirit. Long before his final illness, he had established himself as one of the most formidable public intellectuals in the English-speaking world. His command of language was legendary – both in print and in person. He could dismantle an opponent's argument with surgical precision, then rebuild his own case with architectural elegance. This talent was not merely technical; it reflected a mind constantly in motion, searching restlessly for truth regardless of ideological comfort. What distinguished Hitchens from many of his contemporaries was his willingness to challenge orthodoxies across the political spectrum. Having begun his career as a socialist and opponent of American imperialism, he later supported the Iraq War and developed positions that surprised and sometimes alienated his former allies. Yet even those who disagreed with him most vehemently acknowledged the intellectual integrity behind his positions. He refused to be defined by tribal loyalties or convenient categorizations. As he frequently demonstrated in his debates on religion, particularly following the publication of his controversial bestseller "God Is Not Great," Hitchens valued the pursuit of truth above all else. His intellectual breadth was staggering. In a single conversation, Hitchens could move effortlessly from Orwell to Proust, from American foreign policy to obscure poetry, from Marx to religious history. His memory was prodigious – he could recite lengthy passages from literature and poetry without hesitation. This wasn't mere showing off; it reflected a mind that had absorbed and integrated vast tracts of human thought and expression. His friends frequently remarked that an evening with Hitchens was like attending an intellectual feast where ideas were served up with wit and panache. As a writer, his productivity was legendary. In addition to his regular columns for Vanity Fair and Slate, he produced books on subjects ranging from Mother Teresa to Thomas Jefferson, from the Anglo-American relationship to the politics of the Clinton era. Each bore his distinctive analytical style – rigorous, provocative, and impossible to ignore. His memoir "Hitch-22" revealed the personal experiences that had shaped his intellectual journey, from his complicated relationship with his mother to his transformative friendships with literary figures like Martin Amis and Salman Rushdie. For many, Hitchens represented a dying breed – the public intellectual who refused specialization and instead brought wide-ranging knowledge to bear on the most pressing issues of the day. He embodied the ideal that clear thinking and precise expression were moral imperatives, not merely aesthetic choices. His was a voice that demanded engagement, even when – perhaps especially when – it provoked disagreement. In the turbulent intellectual currents of the late 20th and early 21st centuries, Hitchens stood as a champion of Enlightenment values – reason, free inquiry, and the unfettered exchange of ideas. This commitment would be tested and ultimately reinforced by his final confrontation with mortality.

Chapter 2: The Diagnosis: When Mortality Strikes

In June 2010, while on a book tour promoting his memoir, Christopher Hitchens experienced a morning that would abruptly bifurcate his life. He awoke in his New York hotel room feeling, as he described it, "shackled to my own corpse." His chest seemed "hollowed out and then refilled with slow-drying cement." With characteristic understatement, he noted that he had "more than once woken up feeling like death," but this was fundamentally different. After struggling to summon emergency services, he was transported to the hospital, where initial tests revealed something ominous in the shadows of his scans. Despite this alarming development, Hitchens demonstrated remarkable discipline. That same evening, he managed to appear on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart and deliver a scheduled talk at the 92nd Street Y with Salman Rushdie. He performed both engagements flawlessly, though he later revealed he had vomited violently before each appearance. Such was his professionalism and determination to continue his intellectual life uninterrupted. This stubbornness in the face of physical debility would become a defining feature of his final months. The subsequent diagnosis was devastating: stage four esophageal cancer that had already metastasized to his lymph nodes and lungs. The prognosis was grim – the same cancer had killed his father. With characteristic mordancy, Hitchens observed that he had "very abruptly become a finalist" in the race of life. While he acknowledged the irony of developing cancer in his esophagus – the very instrument of his lifelong love of conversation, debate, and oratory – he refused self-pity. Indeed, having lived what he called a "burnt the candle at both ends" existence of heavy smoking and drinking, he regarded his illness with a kind of stoic recognition rather than surprise. What made Hitchens' confrontation with mortality particularly poignant was the contrast between his physical decline and his intellectual vigor. Even as chemotherapy ravaged his body, his mind remained razor-sharp. His Vanity Fair essays chronicling his illness, later collected in "Mortality," revealed no diminishment of his analytical powers or literary skill. Instead, they showed a new dimension – a willingness to examine his own mortality with the same unflinching honesty he had applied to political and religious subjects throughout his career. The diagnosis also prompted reflections on time and its sudden contraction. Hitchens wrote movingly about what he would likely miss – his children's marriages, the completion of the new World Trade Center, the deaths of villains he had long criticized. Yet he rejected sentimentality even here, acknowledging such thoughts as forms of self-pity that did nothing to illuminate the human condition. Instead, he turned his focus to what his experience could teach others about the nature of illness, treatment, and approaching death with dignity. For Hitchens, being diagnosed with terminal cancer was not merely a personal tragedy but an intellectual challenge – another subject to be analyzed, dissected, and illuminated through language. In doing so, he transformed his own ending into a final act of public service – showing how even in extremity, the life of the mind could continue with courage and clarity.

Chapter 3: Refusing False Comfort: Faith, Prayer and Reality

When news of Hitchens' cancer diagnosis became public, an intriguing phenomenon occurred: people of faith began praying for him. This created a fascinating paradox, as Hitchens had become famous partly for his withering critiques of religion. His book "God Is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything" had established him as one of the "Four Horsemen" of New Atheism alongside Richard Dawkins, Daniel Dennett, and Sam Harris. Now, as he faced mortality, many believers saw an opportunity for a deathbed conversion. Hitchens approached this situation with characteristic intellectual honesty and wry humor. He acknowledged the well-meaning intentions behind many of the prayers offered on his behalf, distinguishing between those who genuinely wished for his recovery and those who primarily sought his religious conversion. With unfailing courtesy, he noted that he was touched by the former while firmly rejecting the latter. The idea that suffering might lead him to abandon his lifelong commitment to reason struck him as both condescending and misguided. Some religious commentators went further, suggesting that Hitchens' cancer was divine punishment for his blasphemy – particularly fitting since it affected his voice, his primary instrument of expression. Hitchens dispatched such claims with logical precision: if this were divine punishment, it was remarkably unimaginative, being exactly the cancer one would expect in a lifelong smoker and drinker. Moreover, he pointed out, if cancer were divine punishment, why did it strike innocent children and the devout? The claim collapsed under the weight of its own inconsistency. Beyond rejecting supernatural explanations, Hitchens took aim at the language we use to discuss cancer. He was particularly skeptical of the militaristic metaphors of "battling" or "fighting" cancer, finding them both inaccurate and unhelpful. As he put it with characteristic directness: "I'm not 'fighting' or 'battling' cancer – it's fighting me." He found such language created false expectations and placed an additional burden on the ill, suggesting that recovery was primarily a matter of will rather than biology. Throughout his illness, Hitchens maintained his atheism without wavering. He famously declared that if reports emerged of a deathbed conversion, we should know that either the cancer or the treatment had robbed him of his faculties. Any such claims would not represent the real Christopher Hitchens. Yet he approached this stance not with bitterness but with serenity, seeing his refusal of false comfort as an extension of his lifelong commitment to facing reality squarely. Perhaps most remarkably, Hitchens maintained cordial relationships with many religious figures throughout his illness. His friendships with believers like Francis Collins (the prominent geneticist and Christian who headed the Human Genome Project) demonstrated his ability to separate intellectual disagreement from personal animosity. He appreciated genuine human connection while remaining unwavering in his own convictions. In refusing false comfort, Hitchens offered a powerful alternative – the solace of unflinching honesty and the dignity of facing death on one's own terms. His example showed that rejecting supernatural explanations need not lead to despair but could instead foster a clear-eyed appreciation of the life we have and the reality we face.

Chapter 4: The Art of Conversation: Language as Life Force

For Christopher Hitchens, language was never merely a tool for communication; it was the essence of his being, the core of his identity. As his illness progressed, this relationship with language took on new dimensions and poignancy. The man who had dazzled audiences worldwide with his rhetorical prowess now found himself contemplating the potential loss of his voice – both literal and figurative. The physical deterioration of his voice became one of the most distressing aspects of his illness. In an essay titled "Unspoken Truths," he described the horror of suddenly finding himself unable to hail a taxi – his voice simply vanishing without warning. For someone who had built his life around speech – debates, television appearances, lectures, conversations extending into the early hours – this loss struck at the heart of his sense of self. "To a great degree," he wrote, "in public and private, I 'was' my voice." He compared this deprivation to an amputation of part of his personality. Yet even as his physical voice weakened, Hitchens' written voice remained remarkably strong. His Vanity Fair columns continued unabated during his illness, showing no diminishment in intellectual rigor or stylistic brilliance. In fact, some critics suggested that his writing about cancer represented some of his finest work – combining unflinching honesty with profound insight and his characteristic wit. He refused to adopt a sentimental tone, instead approaching his condition with the same analytical clarity he had applied to political and cultural subjects throughout his career. Conversation remained central to his life even as other pleasures faded. "I can't eat or drink for pleasure anymore," he noted, "so when friends offer to come it's only for the blessed chance to talk." These conversations became a lifeline, connecting him to the world of ideas that had always been his true home. Friends observed that even in his hospital bed, weakened by treatment, Hitchens transformed the sterile environment into a salon, holding court with undiminished intellectual energy. Hitchens' relationship with language illuminated something essential about human experience. Our words, he suggested, are not separate from our identity but constitutive of it. He frequently cited W.H. Auden's line "All I have is a voice" from "September 1, 1939" – understanding deeply how voice becomes the vessel of our humanity. This appreciation extended beyond his own voice to encompass a broader celebration of human communication. He treasured what he called "those conversations that it seemed a sin to break off: the ones that made the sacrifice of the following day a trivial one." Perhaps most movingly, Hitchens reflected on the relationship between writing and speech. He recalled advice he had received decades earlier from a journalist who told him to "write more like the way you talk." This melding of written and spoken expression became his signature – giving his prose the immediacy and energy of conversation. Even as illness threatened his physical voice, this integration allowed his written voice to carry forward with undiminished power. In his final essays, Hitchens demonstrated that language could serve as a life force even in the face of death. Through precise, unsentimental description of his experience, he transformed his suffering into insight, offering readers not just an account of illness but a deeper understanding of what it means to be human – speaking and thinking until the very end.

Chapter 5: Pain and Dignity: Confronting Physical Decline

The physical toll of cancer and its treatments on Christopher Hitchens was severe and multifaceted. With unflinching honesty, he documented the parade of indignities that serious illness brings – what he called "the countless minor horrors and humiliations that become facts of 'life' when your body turns from being a friend to being a foe." From the "gut-wringing nausea on an utterly empty stomach" to the loss of appetite even as hunger persisted, from dramatic weight loss to the disappearance of hair even from his nostrils (resulting in the "childish and irritating phenomenon of a permanently runny nose"), Hitchens spared readers no detail. Chemotherapy radically transformed his body. He lost approximately fourteen pounds, though as he wryly noted, without "feeling any lighter." His once-robust frame became gaunt. A feeding tube eventually became necessary when swallowing became too painful. The radiation treatments left a vivid red rash across his torso that caused excruciating pain. He described the sensation of swallowing as "a hellish tide of pain" flowing up his throat, "culminating in what felt like a mule kick in the small of my back." Yet throughout this physical degradation, Hitchens maintained a remarkable dignity – not through stoic silence but through precise articulation of his experience. He refused euphemism, describing his condition with clinical accuracy while simultaneously capturing the subjective experience of suffering. This approach reflected his lifelong commitment to clarity and honesty. Even in extremity, he would not resort to sentimentality or self-pity. The question of dignity became particularly acute as Hitchens contemplated the possibility of losing his ability to write. He described the numbness in his hands and fingers as potentially more devastating than other symptoms: "Without that ability, I feel sure in advance, my 'will to live' would be hugely attenuated." For Hitchens, dignity was inseparable from intellectual engagement – the capacity to think clearly and express those thoughts precisely. He was acutely conscious of the power dynamics inherent in serious illness. In one particularly moving passage, he reflected on the experience of being dependent on medical professionals, noting how a simple phrase like "You might feel just a little prick" – delivered with even the faintest hint of a taunt – could transform a healing relationship into something terrifying. This sensitivity to language and power reflected his broader political concerns with authority and resistance. Throughout his decline, Hitchens continued to engage with the world intellectually. He pursued experimental treatments, not just in hopes of personal benefit but out of a desire to contribute to medical knowledge. As his friend Francis Collins noted, Hitchens was deeply interested in having his DNA sequenced alongside his tumor's genome, potentially contributing to future cancer treatments. Even as his body failed him, his mind remained engaged with possibilities for helping others. Perhaps most remarkably, Hitchens maintained his sense of humor throughout his illness. His essays contain moments of genuine comedy amid the suffering – self-deprecating observations about his changed appearance, wry comments on the ironies of his situation, and sharp-witted responses to well-meaning but misguided sympathizers. This humor was not mere deflection but another aspect of his dignity – a refusal to be defined solely by his illness. In confronting physical decline, Hitchens demonstrated that dignity lies not in denying suffering but in facing it with honesty, intelligence, and, when possible, humor. He showed that even as the body fails, the essential self – expressed through thought, language, and human connection – can remain intact until the very end.

Chapter 6: Final Reflections: Writing Against the Dying Light

In his final months, Christopher Hitchens continued to write with remarkable clarity and purpose, producing what would become his final work, "Mortality." These essays, originally published in Vanity Fair and later collected posthumously, represent not just a chronicle of illness but a profound meditation on what it means to face death with intellectual honesty. Through fragments, observations, and sustained analysis, Hitchens transformed his personal experience into something universal. One of his most piercing insights concerned the Nietzschean maxim "Whatever doesn't kill me makes me stronger." Having lived by this principle for much of his life, Hitchens now found it wanting. Cancer and its treatments had not made him stronger; they had weakened him considerably. Yet this recognition did not lead to despair but to a more nuanced understanding of human frailty. He continued to value intellectual struggle even as he acknowledged physical defeat, showing that strength takes many forms. Hitchens reflected deeply on time – its sudden compression after diagnosis and the strange experience of living in what he called "Tumortown," where normal temporal experience is suspended. He noted the "vertiginous feeling of being kicked forward in time: catapulted toward the finish line." This acceleration created an urgency in his writing, a determination to capture his thoughts before they could be silenced. His fragmentary notes, included in the final chapter of "Mortality," reveal a mind racing to articulate final insights. Throughout these reflections, Hitchens maintained his lifelong commitment to rejecting easy consolations. He continued to argue against religious explanations for suffering, noting with characteristic precision the contradictions in claims about divine justice. At the same time, he acknowledged the genuine goodwill behind many expressions of support from religious friends and acquaintances. His intellectual honesty remained uncompromised even as his body failed him. Perhaps most moving was Hitchens' contemplation of what would remain after his death. He reflected on the strange experience of reading his own obituaries while still alive, as tributes poured in following his diagnosis. With characteristic wit, he observed that "rumors of my LIFE have also been greatly exaggerated." Yet beneath this humor lay a serious consideration of legacy – not in terms of fame but in terms of intellectual contribution. Hitchens did not complete a formal summing-up of his life and thought. Instead, his final writings embody the values he had championed throughout his career: intellectual honesty, clarity of expression, and unflinching confrontation with difficult truths. His last words in "Mortality" are fragmentary notes, abruptly ending – a fitting representation of a life cut short yet lived with extraordinary fullness and purpose. In his memoir "Hitch-22," published shortly before his diagnosis, Hitchens had written that he wanted to be "fully conscious and awake, in order to 'do' death in the active and not the passive sense." By all accounts, he achieved this aim. Until the end, he remained engaged with ideas, with friends, and with the world. His final writings stand as a testament to the power of thought and language even in the face of extinction – a defiant light against the gathering darkness.

Summary

Christopher Hitchens' final journey represents a remarkable testament to intellectual integrity in the face of mortality. Throughout his illness, he refused the comfort of illusions, maintaining his commitment to reason and clarity even as his body failed him. His willingness to transform his suffering into insight allowed him to create a map for others navigating the territory of serious illness and approaching death. The core lesson of his experience might be distilled to this: dignity lies not in denying our mortality but in facing it with honesty, continuing to engage with ideas and human connection until the very end. Hitchens' example offers several profound insights for our own lives. First, it reminds us that intellectual honesty is not merely an academic virtue but a form of courage, particularly in moments of extremity. Second, it demonstrates the power of language to create meaning even in circumstances that seem to strip life of purpose. Finally, it shows how maintaining one's essential character in the face of suffering can transform a personal tragedy into something universally valuable. For anyone concerned with living – and potentially dying – with integrity, Christopher Hitchens provides not a perfect model but a deeply human one: flawed, complex, and ultimately inspirational in his refusal to surrender his voice to the silencing forces of illness and approaching death.

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Christopher Hitchens

Christopher Hitchens was a British-American author, journalist, and literary critic known for his sharp wit, polemical writing, and outspoken views on religion, politics, and culture. He was a prolific essayist and columnist, contributing to publications such as The Atlantic, Vanity Fair, Slate, and The Nation.A staunch critic of totalitarianism and organized religion, Hitchens became one of the most prominent public intellectuals of his time. His book God Is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything (2007) became a bestseller and solidified his place as a leading figure in the New Atheism movement. He was equally fearless in political criticism, taking on figures across the ideological spectrum, from Henry Kissinger (The Trial of Henry Kissinger, 2001) to Bill and Hillary Clinton (No One Left to Lie To, 1999).Originally a socialist and supporter of left-wing causes, Hitchens later distanced himself from the left, particularly after the September 11 attacks, when he became a vocal advocate for the U.S. invasion of Iraq. His ideological shift, combined with his formidable debating skills, made him a controversial yet highly respected figure.Hitchens was also known for his literary criticism, writing extensively on figures such as George Orwell, Thomas Jefferson, and Karl Marx. His memoir, Hitch-22 (2010), reflected on his personal and intellectual journey.In 2010, he was diagnosed with esophageal cancer but continued to write and speak publicly until his death in 2011. His fearless engagement with ideas, incisive arguments, and commitment to reason remain influential long after his passing.

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