Some people have insight into what “breaks open the heart,” and some people do not. This book is for the people who are interested in understanding the difficulties that having a disability presents. It’s just not about not being able to see, not being able to stand. It’s deeper than that. This autobiography highlights the human capacity to go beyond personal limits.
Rather than falling into victimhood, Mr. Bruni has explored his new limitations and broken through them. I like that he highlights the stories of others, using his interview skills to pull out the deep stuff, beyond where most people relate to their friends/families. ( )

I almost put this down about ten pages in, but by page 25 or so I was hooked. Good story that travels beyond the author's personal experience and brush with blindness to look carefully at others that overcame their varied and particular setbacks, managing to reset their expectations and thrive. That is an oversimplification because he touches on many things in his life, but that was the message that I came away with. I could especially relate to Regan, the border collie mix that isn't a border collie - I have that dog's twin here at home, and he has kept me going through my own trials. ( )

I knew Frank Bruni was a gifted writer from having read his NY Times columns. I knew he was a likable guy from having seen him on the cable news programs. What this book added to that was empathy, sensitivity, and an appreciation of life and of his fellow man. Not only is The Beauty of Dusk about Bruni’s battle with vision loss; it’s about dog behavior, city life, fashion, relationships, and the most impactful lessons of all for me because I am 72, aging. Frank Bruni is not only a gifted writer, he is a gifted human being. I am a better 72-year-old for having read The Beauty of Dusk. ( )

I like Frank Bruni. I've enjoyed his New York Times writings for a long time. The news of his optical nerve stroke and the risk to his vision, livelihood, and well-being made me sad. So I wanted to read this, his further exploration of the experience. I did worry that it might veer into "inspirational" territory (not a genre I seek out), and he does warn us early on: "Did that make me a sort of cliche? You bet, and you should brace yourself for a boatload of cliches and jump ship if they're going to bother you." But with at least that level of awareness, perhaps he would avoid the worst of it. He almost does.

Bruni seems to be a good person: hard-working, kind, earnest, honest. He engages with people who write to him, likes the celebrities he interviews. He adores his dog, seems to have many friends. It's this likeable persona that kept me with this mostly smoothly-written book. But it's too long, padded with chunks from previous writings. And boils down to just one more illness memoir, with the scary medical parts (and, I notice, once again our protagonist has friends and connections that get him much faster and more thorough attention than most of us would get from our shameful healthcare system) and laudatory profiles of blind or disabled people who have successfully managed their trials. He reminds us that so many around us may be undergoing trials we cannot see. That the loss of one sense may sharpen or enhance the use of another. But he can't help but tip into the lemons / lemonade trope, or tweak the old opening of windows and doors cliche. Reading "The Beauty of Dusk" is a bit like spending time with a friend we like and care about - we listen, sympathize, offer to help if we can, feel sad or worried for him. But there are no great epiphanies, life-changing insights, or novel ideas here. I wish Frank all the best, with continued good health and happiness in his life, and will continue to read his columns and newsletter with pleasure. But this book doesn't really rise above a crowded field. ( )