Maturity may bring about some level of sensibilities but age has
nothing to do with maturity and sensibilities. Perhaps age and experience can
make a difference in the way we approach a subject or the manner we perform or execute a particular task or
tackle a certain problem, but I find
that age has nothing to do with how one
thinks. I am not saying that we
are no older than how we feel, I like to believe that we remain forever
ourselves no matter what age we are. The saying that people mellow as they grow
old often eludes me although it is not impossible for us to become better
persons when we make conscious efforts to improve ourselves if we know and
acknowledge our failings. A change for the better is always welcome.
While we must be prepared to
accept several certainties or limitations of life, we tend to avoid
thinking about growing old though
mortality is ineluctable and dying is a certainty.
The upshot of growing old is that you know life is about liberating
yourself from vanity and graceful acceptance about mortality and death.
Nonetheless you do not want to think
much about it .
Last week, I attended a memorial concert performed by a
Russian pipe organist and also the funeral of a 93 year-old man, who was once my
senior partner in the legal firm where I
was. At the material time, I read about the passing of I.M.Pei the prolific architect who
had designed the Louvre Pyramid and iconic buildings around the globe. He
was 102 and his legacy stretches from west to east and he was renowned for fusing modernism into
the old buildings.
A weekend ago, I
chanced upon the book written by Erica
Jong during my visit to BookXcess bookshop together with my family. I have been meaning to read Jong’s writing and
voila, I have purchased her book Fear
of Dying . It looks to be another
promising read, a relatable theme indeed.
A few weeks ago, I read the debut novel by Meg Wolitzer. It was published when
she was only twenty-three while she was a student at Brown University. She sold
the manuscript at age 21.
Sleepwalking
is a story about three notorious “death girls” on the
Swarthmore campus because they dress in black and are each compulsively
obsessed about the work and suicide of a
different poet namely Sylvia Plath, Anne Sexton, and Lucy Asher, a gifted
writer who drowned herself at twenty-four. Asher is a creation of the author. The death girls
gather at night and read their heroines’ work aloud in a candlelit room.
Thia is how Wolitzer starts describing the "death girls".
' They talked about death as if it were a country in Europe.They made it seem that , after a brief vacation there, you could simply fly home bearing rolls of color film and tourist anecdotes. The three of them stayed up every night, usually until five o'clock, with the shade up and the window propped wide open, partly so the constant rush of air would keep them awake, pride themselves on how Spartan they were for requiring so little sleep,'
One of her characters, Claire Danziger has to confront some past that she has been avoiding and to consider why she has to hang on to the “death girl” identity. One day she takes the leap and vanish from her college, causing her mother, boyfriend, Julian and Naomi, one of “the death girls” to worry as she has carried her obsession too far by showing up at her heroine’s home. Lucy’s parents are suffering from their grief of their daughter’s suicide.
Thia is how Wolitzer starts describing the "death girls".
' They talked about death as if it were a country in Europe.They made it seem that , after a brief vacation there, you could simply fly home bearing rolls of color film and tourist anecdotes. The three of them stayed up every night, usually until five o'clock, with the shade up and the window propped wide open, partly so the constant rush of air would keep them awake, pride themselves on how Spartan they were for requiring so little sleep,'
One of her characters, Claire Danziger has to confront some past that she has been avoiding and to consider why she has to hang on to the “death girl” identity. One day she takes the leap and vanish from her college, causing her mother, boyfriend, Julian and Naomi, one of “the death girls” to worry as she has carried her obsession too far by showing up at her heroine’s home. Lucy’s parents are suffering from their grief of their daughter’s suicide.
Meg Wolitzer is an insightful writer even at a young age as
she was then.
‘ The girl’s
parents stood slope-shouldered in their overcoats in the doorway, silently
waiting to take her home. Helen had turned to face the wall so she would not
have to watch anymore.
It
didn’t mean much to be a parent. All of those books -advice from Dr Spock and
the rest of them – could take you only so far. They told you how to make the
baby stand and take its first steps like a little sleepwalker, arms stretched
out in front of leverage. They told you the right way to mix up the food, to
mash together the greens and oranges and yellows into a muddy paste and spoon
it in so it got swallowed. Here comes the train, choo-choo, speeding around the
tracks, clickery-clack, and into Lucy’s
mouth. Open the tunnel wide and let the train through. That’s a good girl. They
told you a few basic tenets of child psychology …………. “
Wolitzer wrote in her preface
to the book ,
“ I feel a real tenderness and
protectiveness toward this book, in part because it was my first, but also
because of its hushed awareness and its lack of showiness. I wrote the book I
wanted to write, and I wasn’t particularly concerned with whether it would find
an audience, or whether it would be “relatable,” which is a concept that all
writers have heard a lot about in the intervening years. I suppose it was
written in a state of innocence and mild grandiosity.”
Meg
Wolitzer is fortunate to have a writer mother who was supportive of her
endeavours. Hilma Wolitzer is a novelist and the dedicatee of Sleepwalking. Both mother
and daughter loved the same kind of writing. I
enjoy Meg Wolitzer's fictions due to her acute observation about contemporary
life.
Incidentally, just before I came across the novel Sleepwalking, someone asked if his
friend could initiate any legal action against a fellow patient who apparently
beat him in his sleep while he was recuperating from dengue fever at a private
hospital. The patient was apparently sleepwalking when it happened. The hospital
had explained that the medication could have triggered the sleepwalking
incident. Sheer coincidence.
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