Common Human Sorrow

As his power leaves him, Selig writes: “I make lists now of the things I once could do that I can no longer. Inventories of the shrinkage. Like a dying man confined to his bed, paralyzed but observant, watching his relatives pilfer his goods. This day the television set has gone, and this day the Thackeray first editions . . . and tomorrow it will be the pots and pans, the Venetian blinds, my neckties.” In the end, as Shakespeare said long ago, we are left “sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.”

Michael Dirda of the Washington Post reviews Robert Silverberg’s Dying Inside, which was recently reissued by Orb.