An eloquent reminder of an act we take for granted ... Not all the chapters in On Breathing are as engaging. Some feel like a patchwork of academic commonplaces in search of an argument, a perfectly curated list of recondite theoreticians wheeled out and underused, like a scholarly nervous tic ... The best sections, by contrast, are those rooted in Webster’s experience: the reflections that emerge from her psychoanalytic work, her parenting or even a wryly conflicted chapter on yoga.
This book, then, is an exploration of what it might mean to think about breathing psychoanalytically, proceeding more impressionistically than argumentatively, more poetically than narratively ... Her tone is calm, even as she describes crises.
An ambitious meditation that struggles under its theoretical burden, never quite finding its natural rhythm ... At times other writers’ thoughts compete with [Webster's] own voice ... The author’s most compelling moments emerge when she connects theory to direct experience ... The narrative boldly attempts to bridge personal memoir with academic discourse, achieving moments of profound insight even as it sometimes gets tangled in its theoretical underpinnings.
