Some books are read once and set aside. Others linger, echoing in the mind like a familiar melody long after the final note fades. Twice Saved by Death: An Unforgettable Story of Resilience and Redemption by Leslie Walter Haas is firmly in the latter category. It is a memoir that does not shout for attention, yet quietly insists on being remembered.
Haas, known affectionately as Fes, approaches storytelling the way a seasoned musician approaches a song: with timing, restraint, and emotional honesty. His memoir moves forward through memories that feel lived-in rather than polished, childhood moments, brushes with mortality, relationships gained and lost, and the long arc of a life shaped as much by mistakes as by triumphs. What emerges is not a hero’s journey, but something far more compelling: a human one.
Music is the emotional backbone of the book. Guitars are not merely instruments in Haas’s life. They are companions, confessions, and lifelines. When words fall short, music carries the weight of grief, joy, anger, and longing. Throughout the book, he reveals how creativity becomes a way to survive, to process experiences that might otherwise remain buried or overwhelming. For readers who understand art as a necessity rather than a hobby, this thread will connect deeply.
Yet the memoir’s power lies not only in its creative elements but in its honesty about impermanence. Death is never far from the narrative, not in a sensational way, but as a constant presence that sharpens awareness. He reflects on funerals attended, friends lost, wars fought, and moments when life could have ended but did not. These encounters force a reckoning: What does it truly mean to live when survival itself is uncertain?
Rather than offering dramatic revelations, Haas focuses on accumulation, the small moments that shape a life. A childhood memory, a song learned, a conversation remembered decades later. The book suggests that meaning is not found in grand gestures but in attention: noticing what stays, what fades, and what quietly defines us. This perspective gives Twice Saved by Death its contemplative depth.
Faith and doubt coexist throughout the memoir, not as opposing forces but as companions. Haas’s reflections on spirituality are thoughtful and always sincere. He explores belief not as doctrine but as experience, something tested by suffering, reshaped by time, and softened by humility. Readers are not asked to agree with his conclusions, only to consider the questions alongside him.
What makes this memoir especially compelling is its refusal to frame redemption as perfection. Haas does not claim enlightenment or resolution. Instead, redemption emerges through awareness, through the courage to look back honestly and move forward without illusions. His journey reminds readers that growth often comes from acknowledging who we have been, not denying it.
The title Twice Saved by Death encapsulates the memoir’s central paradox. Encounters with mortality do not diminish Haas’s life; they deepen it. Each survival sharpens his understanding of love, creativity, and responsibility, to family, to memory, and to self. The book ultimately suggests that death, when faced directly, can become a teacher rather than an ending.
For readers drawn to reflective memoirs, creative lives, and stories that embrace complexity, the book offers a significant and rewarding experience. Leslie Walter Haas writes not to impress, but to connect, and in doing so, he leaves behind something rare. It is a story that feels both deeply personal and quietly universal. This is a book for anyone who has ever survived something and wondered what to do with the life that followed.
