Content Warning: This book is a deeply introspective reflection on aging, mortality, and the passage of time. It includes discussions of personal loss, health scares (including a heart attack), and existential contemplation. While nothing is explicit or inappropriate, the themes may be emotionally intense for readers sensitive to topics of aging, death, and the fleeting nature of life.

Genre: Memoir / Reflective Non-Fiction

Imagine time not as an intangible, ticking force but as a place—a dimly lit coffee shop where the scent of old books and fresh espresso mingle, where the whispers of yesterday and the echoes of tomorrow hum beneath the clinking of spoons. This is the space where David W. Berner’s Daylight Saving Time dwells—a memoir that moves not in chapters, but in increments of light and shadow, between the space of what was and what remains.

It is not a book that merely chronicles the worries of an aging man; rather, it is an exploration of time itself—how we borrow it, steal it, waste it, stretch it, and sometimes forget to appreciate it.

Borrowed Hours: A Heartbeat from the Brink

Berner’s writing is strongest when he turns his lens inward. His heart attack at 56—eerily mirroring his father’s—becomes a defining moment, a forced confrontation with the fragile architecture of life. One might call it a wake-up call, but Berner resists melodrama. Instead, he continues riding his bike, pushing himself forward, as if proving to the universe that he still holds the deed to his own time.

Isn’t that what we all do? Ignore the ticking until it grows loud enough to demand attention? Until a doctor, clipboard in hand, tells us, “You came in at the right time”? But what does that mean—the right time?

Statistically, someone in the U.S. has a heart attack every 40 seconds. Berner became one of them. And yet, what makes this account gripping is not the medical emergency itself, but the philosophical pivot it inspires: if time is not promised, then what do we do with the remainder? Do we chase lost dreams? Do we sink into regret? Or do we, like Berner, lace up our shoes and keep walking forward, hoping the path reveals something new?

The Memory Conundrum: What is Real?

Memory, Berner suggests, is not as trustworthy as we’d like to believe. As Hemingway once warned, “If the reader prefers, this book may be regarded as fiction.” This notion haunts Berner’s reflections, especially as he struggles to recall the exact dates of his parents’ and sister’s deaths. He remembers their birthdays, their laughter, the weight of their absences—but the dates? They elude him, as if resisting the finality of time stamps.

This is a fascinating insight into how memory works. Studies show that our recollections are only 50% accurate after a year and can degrade even further as time passes. Berner’s struggle to retrieve dates but not emotions proves a poetic truth: our minds are not filing cabinets, but painters—blending reality with nostalgia until the details blur into something both more beautiful and more uncertain.

The Poetics of the Ordinary

There is an undeniable beauty in the ordinary moments Berner captures: the ritual of morning coffee, the rhythmic hum of a train, the weight of a pen in his hand. The world does not slow for anyone, but in his prose, it lingers just long enough for us to notice.

His narrative thrives in the small, seemingly insignificant details—finding a sturdy spot to anchor an exercise band, harvesting sage from his garden, or fixing a handrail at his son’s house. There’s something profoundly human about these moments. They remind us that meaning is not only found in grand adventures but in the quiet acts of maintenance—of homes, of relationships, of self.

As poet Mary Oliver once asked, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” Berner doesn’t answer directly. Instead, he shows us. And in doing so, he invites us to look up from our own to-do lists and ask the same question.

A Book Best Savored, Not Rushed

This is not a book for speed-readers. It is best read the way one sips a well-made cappuccino—slowly, with appreciation for its warmth and complexity. It is for those who enjoy literary meditation, for readers who find solace in the quiet wisdom of reflective prose.

Final Thoughts: The Clock Keeps Turning

At its heart, Daylight Saving Time is not a book about aging—it is a book about living. About making peace with time not as a thief, but as a teacher. Berner does not fight against its pull. Instead, he leans in, allowing its currents to carry him forward, sometimes hesitantly, sometimes boldly, but always awake to its lessons.

So, what do we do with the hours given to us? Do we lament the ones lost? Chase the ones ahead? Or do we, like Berner, sit in a café, jotting thoughts into a notebook, watching the light shift—knowing that in this moment, in this hour, we are alive?

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