Life and Death

By Andrea Sachs

Think of Mitch Albom as the Babe Ruth of popular literature, hitting the ball out of the park every time he's at bat. His 1997 memoir, Tuesdays with Morrie, was a record-breaking best seller, with 11 million copies in print in 41 countries. The popular TV film of the book, which he wrote, garnered four Emmys. His 2003 novel, The Five People You Meet in Heaven, added another 8 million copies to his scorecard. He also maintains his day job as a sports columnist and radio commentator. TIME spoke with Albom, 48, just as his much awaited new novel, For One More Day (Hyperion), went on sale.

This is your third book delving into issues of death. Is there a reason that you're so caught up in that subject?

I'd like to think of them as books about life and death. At the end of the books, the death or heaven or the ghosts are just devices by which we come to appreciate life. That's what happened to me with Morrie. His death ultimately turned out to be a way for me to appreciate my life.

How else has the success of Tuesdays with Morrie affected your life?

Pretty much in every way, from how I spend my time to the issues I think about to the conversations I have. It used to be people would stop and ask me about sports. Now they stop and tell me about someone who died of cancer last week, and they read my book together. My approach to sick people and dying people is much different. I used to be very afraid and very embarrassed. I hated to go to hospitals. Now, I'm not put off by it at all.

The new book explores what it would be like to be able to see for one final time a loved one who has died. Where did that idea come from?

A lot of my readers who I would meet on the road or who would send me e-mails would say, "I lost so-and-so in my life, and I hope they're going through what Eddie went through in Five People [seeing loved ones in heaven]. I hope to see them again. What I wouldn't give for one more day with them here."

Have you lost a parent yourself?

No, thankfully, both of my parents are still alive. But I think when people really regret or miss things that they didn't say to someone, it's usually to a parent. For some reason, we just think they're going to be around, and then they're gone. So this book focuses on a son who loses his mother. I want [my mother] to see this while she's here. I realized that there aren't that many books that focus on the mother-son relationship. Maybe men don't feel comfortable writing about mothers. They feel it's too sentimental or too mama's boyish.

You write in the book, "All that happens when your dream comes true is a slow melting realization that it wasn't what you thought." Has that been your experience with success?

No, I'm not as cynical as [the son] Chick is in the book. What he's saying is that if you put all of your stock in your dream coming true, then you're going to be disappointed. Because there is no one dream. You could have a dream career, but you could have a horrible family life. You could have a dream wife, but how you spend your days is miserable. Waiting around for a particular dream to come true is to be potentially very frustrated.

Your friend, author Amy Tan, once said that you're "the rabbi of everybody." Do you feel comfortable in that spiritual adviser's role?

No. I'm not qualified to be that. I love to discuss things with people, and I'll always listen, but sometimes they call me Morrie! They say, "Morrie, can I ask you something?" I always say, "Wait, I'm Mitch. I was the one asking the questions, remember? I'm not the one who was answering the questions."

You wear a lot of hats: TV and radio personality, author, screenwriter, musician, Detroit Free Press sportswriter. How do you find time to do everything?

Honestly, I do one thing: I tell stories. That's it. That's the only skill I have. If you had said, "Oh, I see that you're a heart surgeon," then I would say, "Yeah, I'm really multitalented."