I instantly gravitated to this book, choosing it from among a tableful of other volumes. It was the title. I’m allergic to cliches, including the one about “aging gracefully.” I’m sure that’s a wise goal and that we should all learn to age gracefully. It’s just that after hearing the term so often, it loses its impact. Oh hum.
But “aging disgracefully,” well now, that’s something else. Clare Pooley’s novel, How To Age Disgracefully, is as funny as its title. For the quote at the beginning of the book, Pooley uses part of Dylan Thomas’ famous poem about aging: “Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day.” The characters in this novel burn and rave; they also bumble and stumble and trip over their arthritic feet, but they do so in a very entertaining way.
And so the story begins with this motley collection of elders, each with their hilarious quirks and each hiding a secret in their past. The group eventually includes Lydia, the younger group leader who is experiencing the beginning of menopause, a shy teenage father and his adorable baby girl, a roomful of toddlers, and a geriatric, orphaned dog named Margaret Thatcher.
Daphne hates the stereotyping of old people she sees in the culture all around her, often rendering the old unattractive or invisible. But she figures out how to use the stereotypes to advantage, with hilarious results.
I’m not going to talk about the plot. Read the book for yourselves. But I will copy out here some choice quotes:
Daphne raised her hand. Nobody noticed. Daphne stood up, her hand still raised. They still ignored her.
Daphne did not like being ignored. In the early days of her career, she had been overlooked on account of her sex…. But now she was being ignored because of her age. She appeared to have jumped out of the frying pan of sexism and into the frying pan of ageism. The final frontier of isms.
Daphne thumped her walking stick several times on the wooden floorboards. She didn’t need a walking stick for actual walking. In fact, she prided herself on her mobility and flexibility, aided by twenty minutes of Pilates every morning, and an hour of yoga before bed. How many septuagenarians could do a headstand and sit for hours in the lotus position? She had, however, discovered that her age was a wonderful excuse for carrying around a stout, metal-tipped cane, which could come in handy in all sorts of circumstances. It was perfect for clearing people out of the way, for waving or thumping to attract attention, for giving the appearance of frailty when useful and, in extremis, it could be a dangerous weapon….
Daphne thumped the stick again, and everyone turned to find the source of disturbance….
*****
“Nice day, isn’t it?” said Art to the man behind the counter, who flicked Art a cursory glance, muttered an “uh-huh,” and looked back at the phone in his hand.
Art was used to this behavior. He wasn’t sure exactly when he’d become irrelevant, or invisible, even—it had crept up on him gradually over the years. He often felt like a ghost. He occupied the same world as ordinary mortals, but most of them appeared to see straight through him. It used to make him angry, but then he’d discovered that invisibility had its advantages.
Art looked down at the brightly colored array of confectionery in front of him, reached out a hand, and picked up a packet of Fruit Gums, which he slipped into the pocket of his voluminous coat. [Art’s secret is that he is a kleptomaniac. But a good-hearted one.]
*********
They walked off, back to Daphne’s apartment, the stray dog tailing a few feet behind them.
Daphne stopped and stroked him behind the ears.
“There are younger, prettier dogs you could adopt, you know, Daffy,” said Art.
“Pah. I prefer my friends to have experience, wisdom, and a few guilty secrets,” said Daphne. And the dog followed her home.
*********
I could add other quotes. But I won’t. Read the book for yourself. It’s not only funny. It’s wise.
