Book Report

So, time for a book report, isn't it? I just finished a book called Old Filth, by Jane Gardam. The story is about an elderly man, a retired lawyer and judge, who had worked both in Hong Kong (Filth is a slang acronym- "Failed In London, Try Hong Kong") and in England. He retires to a small town in England, and the book follows his moves through the last years of his life, and in and out of his memories.

The childhood of this successful, accomplished, well-off (seemingly dull) man is heartbreaking, and the scope and the context of the heartbreak is revealed through his memories. He is a "Raj orphan," a term for children sent by their parents living in the far flung colonies back "home" to England for education and civilization. I just googled the phrase, and nearly all of the hits on the first few pages are related to this book, so who knows how widely this term is actually known.

In any case, the contrast between his relentlessly composed presentation and the hardship and sorrow-laden past he endured reminded me of two things: first, you just never know the whole story about someone, and it's a good thing to keep that in mind, and second, that it is lucky for me that I wasn't around in WWII Britain, because no way would I manage the brave stoicism the whole country seemed to own so relentlessly.

I liked the writing, and that is nearly the only thing that really keeps me at a book. Beyond that, though, and beyond even the introduction of this interesting minor historical and cultural archetype, I felt like the agedness of the protagonist helped me to know more about how growing old must be. You don't always get a main character in his late seventies. And at that age, age seems to matter significantly in the way that you feel, the way that you depend on others, the way others treat you, and the way you experience your days.

Next up: The Happiness Project. I'll get back to you.