Still Life at Eighty
The Next Interesting Thing
-
- ¥1,800
発行者による作品情報
From the New York Times bestselling author of A Three Dog Life, a witty and irreverent look at aging and the writing life, delivered with trademark brevity, humor, and wise wit.
“The Emily Dickinson of memoirists” (Stephen King) Abigail Thomas shares her thoughts on aging in this irresistibly wry memoir-in-vignettes—offering richly insightful writing tips along the way.
While reflecting on the past, Abby accepts the shape of her present. No more driving, no more dancing, mostly sitting in a comfortable chair in a sunny corner with three dogs for company—as well as the birds and other critters that she watches out her window. Only this beloved writer could generate so much enthusiasm over what might seem so little. Vivid memories fall like confetti, as time contracts, shoots forward, loops and suddenly she is back in her twenties in New York City, drinking, sleeping with strangers, falling in and out of love, believing in a better world. Sometimes dread or grief arrives, inhabits her body like a shadow, and all she can do is write it away, paying close attention to what catches her eye, sticks in her brain, keeps her in the moment.
Whether you’re a book lover, dog lover—or both—pull up a chair, pour a cup of tea, and enter Abigail Thomas’s quietly mesmerizing world.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
Memoirist Thomas (What Comes Next and How to Like It) takes a tender look at aging and memory in this meditative account. Opening the narrative with a vow to embrace "living in the ever-shifting constancy of now," Thomas describes the surprising lightness she felt in the wake of her 79th birthday in 2020, eating leftover cake for breakfast, surrendering to adult diapers, and happily napping to excess. In short, punchy chapters, Thomas illustrates her initial conviction that there is still plenty of life to be lived in old age, and how that outlook shifted when she and the rest of the world were forced to stay at home during the early months of the Covid-19 pandemic. As Thomas sat in her chair in Woodstock, N.Y., and sifted through her memories, she clung to recollections of love affairs and quiet family moments, each one given new meaning by her forced isolation. Like the slow-blooming wisteria vine growing from Thomas's desk that reappears throughout the narrative, the power of her remembrances emerges gradually, but they join together to form a beautiful whole. Fans of Gail Godwin's Getting to Know Death would do well to check this out.
