Disclaimer: I don't read many memoirs, so I'm not used to first person narratives and the occasional use of stilted turns of phrase. Regardless, I am glad I read this one.
Of the few I have read, they are chronologically oriented from childhood to adulthood, from the start of a job to a different and inspired career path, etc. Anna's recollection of her life starts this way, and then spirals into not only a loss of light, but a loss of the sense of time; this wasn't a concept that initially occurred to me. The narrative is broken between sets memories with various ways to keep one from going mad in nearly full darkness. It should feel disjointed and awkward, but it doesn't. It feels real.
Anna's delight, despair, and determination should incite just as much respect or inspiration as any memoir of someone overcoming or making peace with cancer or chronic illness.