Product Description

Shortly before his 44th birthday, John Diamond received a call from the doctor who had removed a lump from his neck. Having been assured for the previous 2 years that this was a benign cyst, Diamond was told that it was cancerous. This is the story of Diamond's life with, and without, a lump.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #72393 in Books
• Published on: 1999-04-08
• Original language: English
• Binding: Paperback
• 256 pages

Amazon.co.uk Review
Once upon a time, being "unwell" meant a columnist was, how shall we put it, indisposed. Now, being truly unwell is no excuse for not filing your copy, and the resulting column is in danger of becoming something of a genre. If so, then here is its best exponent. John Diamond was just a common-or-garden Times columnist, a "sometime smoking, unexercised and overweight man of fortyish", and, being an expert hypochondriac, expectantly waiting for his first heart attack. Until 27 March 1997. Then he was diagnosed as having cancer. C is his "attempt to write the book I was looking for the night I got the bad news." C is a blow-by-blow account of the progress of his cancer and its various treatments, interlaced with forays into the daunting medical literature, autobiographical reminiscences, and meditative reflections on what this all means. As a guide to cancer, Diamond is usefully knowledgeable, able to cut through the medical profession's defensive euphemisms and tell us what's really going on. As a guide to himself, Diamond is unstintingly honest, so we get the whole man with all his personal strengths and foibles, and it's actually difficult to read the prognosis with which he leaves us. And to produce that degree of engagement is an achievement for any writer. --Alan Stewart

Customer Reviews

A remarkably compelling read.
Being a reasonably squeamish individual, I am not in the habbit of picking up books devoted to any kind of illness - let alone cancer. But then I was drawn to the strangely chirpy cover of this book not by its title but by the name John Diamond. I was familiar with his writing long before his cancer columns in The Times. And it is testament to his terrific prose and probing insights that I managed to read this book in no more than a few days. His definition of cancer at the begining of the book is memorable for both its clarity and wit. But if there's one thing that strikes the reader throughout, it is the overwhelming passion for life. Even when things get tough - and they get pretty damn tough - Diamond manages to find something worth living for - whether it's the simple pleasures of being in one's own home and experiencing the smells of domestic life, or simply going to buy new clothes.
Don't be put off by the 'c' word. This is a minor masterpiece. A celebration of life - not the dwelling on death.
God bless you, John Diamond.

John Diamond-Dignified and witty in face of such trauma
I came across John Diamond towards the back of The Times magazine one Saturday afternoon.
Not ever having read anything about him before, and not knowing that he had cancer,I, at first, found his column to be rather bleak.
Though it always had a streak of wit and dark comedy running through it.
It was shortly before his death that I read his book, C:Because Cowards get cancer to.
Well, though he hated to be refered to as brave, he was certainly no coward.
The way he coped with his cancer, and was able to write about his disease with such flair and wit, is really beyond most of our understanding.
We also musn't forget that before his writing about his disease made him famous John was a prolific writer, journalist, columnist and broadcaster.
He remained prolific, at least in terms of the written word, right up until his death in March last year.
In this book he tracks the 'progress' of his throat cancer, including having to have part of his tongue removed, and does so in a matter of fact way.
His lack of self-pity, the way he didn't want to be seen as a 'victim' but just as someone who had got cancer, was truly refreshing.
The ultimate irony about him, of course, is that he became the man profligate with words who couldn't speak and the man who was married to a top TV cook and yet couldn't eat.
Despite all this, however, he remained dignified to the end and, though we will never know the darker side of the torment he must have felt at knowing he was going to die at such a young age and having to leave behind a beautiful wife and two young children who adored him, his sense of what is really important in life remained true to the end.
He once wrote that the meaning of life is 'loving and being loved, about one day being missed when your gone.'
He was right. And he is very much missed.

Mathew Hulbert.
Journalist.

Be there...without the side-effects.
Hands up now - which of you Amazondotcodotuk subscribers have cancer? OK. Now hands up all of you who feel that maybe, someday, due to current habits, or maybe just sheer bad luck and statistics, may end up as as a cancer sufferer? I know, I know ...hardly fair...but entirely reasonable. Let's look at the odds. One in four of us. It's as well to read John Diamond's account of his own illness. Trust me...no self-wallowing or over-dramatic imagery for the sake of book sales; we're talking an honest, informative, at times poignant but witty account of his own cancer experience (admittedly subjective, but then what do you expect?). Knowing how the story ultimately pans out only makes for more painful, yet compulsive, reading. All I can say is...John Diamond - you're top of my posthumous dinner party list. And do you know the funny thing?? You always were on account of your brilliant contributions to The Times, etc. A great loss to your family, friends, tabloid, broadsheet and periodical readers alike. RIP.