by Tony Judt. In 2008, historian Tony Judt (Ill Fares the Land) was handed a death sentence. Lou Gehrig's disease would progressively deprive him of mobility, leaving him encased in the prison of a hostile body, robbing him of the life he'd led with such grace. Unable to continue with research-requiring assistance even to breathe-Judt was forced back on the one source of historical data still accessible to him, his memories. To "store" them, he resorted to the classic mnemonic technique of the memory palace, housing recollections in the rooms of a Swiss chalet he'd visited as a child. In these separate essays, most of them originally published in the New York Review of Books, he details his life and preoccupations in short, poignant sketches: childhood food, riding buses across London, his father's love affair with Citroens and his own with trains, working on a kibbutz (and hating it)-in a stunningly effective blend of the personal and political. Verdict Elegiac and thought-provoking, these essays provide a final glimpse of a first-rate historical intelligence. Tony Judt died in August 2010 at the age of 62. He was a mensch. This is one of the best books of the year. --Library Journal
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