Rated
Jan 12
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1 review
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health
• wsj.com
The point, if I may dare to sum up: Old age is an annoying, ridiculous and pathetic decline toward the state of a turnip softening in a compost heap, if death is not kind enough to intervene first.
But why write a book about it?
Most boomers, beneath whatever faith they have in free radical therapy or green tea, know the lonely and painful disappointments that await them. They read the necrologies in their alumni bulletins before they look at the class notes, then realize that they can no longer remember who the dead ones were. They are called \"spry,\" or even worse, \"well-preserved.\" White-haired, with hands fisted to hide tremors, they hate the store clerks who ask, \"What can I do for you today, young lady?\" Mechanics working on their old pickup trucks give them an actuarial once-over and then say: \"Take care of this baby and it\'ll last you the rest of your life.\"
Mr. Miller makes sure to take all hope away from us, condemning \"the positivity psychologists\" who promise a glorious, sensual, wise, healthy and virtuous old age. He says that the fields they practice in—self-help, mystical geriatrics, cyber-techno-immortality—are \"either culpably moronic or a swindle, one in which its purveyors, it seems, believe their own cons.\"
Instead, he says, life in old age \"is a desperate struggle not to be laughed at, sneered at, or looked down upon.\" As an example, he asks: \"What of my clearly decaying scholarly capacities? . . . I can\'t even reliably come up with words like \'refrigerator\' or \'kitty litter\' and must endure my wife\'s hand gesture of irritated contempt to \'get on with it.\' Can I ever get lost in a book again without my mind wandering?\"