I'd rate this 3 stars (maybe), but it's a book too complicated to rate, and it feels so incomprehensible wrong to rate a book of a dying man.
the first few chapters were disappointing i would say, but as the book progresses we get a stark, raw view of cancer and living-dying from it.
the last chapter, even if composed only of snippets that Hitchens never had time to flesh out into a full piece (or pieces), is perhaps that which hits hardest. With the help of the foreword, we realize that it wasn't from a lack of ability but from a believe that there would always be more time. As he put it: "I don't have a body, I am a body. Yet consciously and regularly acted as if this was not true, or as if an exception would be made in my case."