"Firefly" is a reason to be happy that local, independent bookstores continue to exist. And perhaps the reason that they do. I picked it off a table of recommendations by staff because I'd never heard of the author, because the end of Noel Coward's life seemed like unlikely subject matter, and because the publisher wasn't one I knew well. I wanted something unfamiliar to me.
"Firefly" is a little gem of a novel, about Noel Coward's last couple of week's at him Jamaican retreat, which is eponymous with the novel. His normal manservant is away on a week's break and he is being taken care of by Patrice, a young, seemingly good looking Jamaican who is teeming with life. Coward is 70-years-old and encountering the constant stream of flashbacks and dreams that I suppose novelists think people nearing their death do. While Coward is very drawn to Patrice, he also finds Patrice's constant singing and boisterousness annoying, not conducive to peace and quiet. Patrice is hoping to move to England and dreams of being a waiter at the Ritz in London and attempts to practice silver service techniques as much as possible with Coward and his entourage.
Instead of relying on lachrymose scenes of Coward being ill and dying, Janette Jenkins allows Patrice's departure from Jamaica to serve as a metaphor for Coward's departure from this world. Patrice's wonder at Coward, the celebrity and the person who is his boss, point to what Coward's life must have been. Patrice's vibrancy is also a reminder of who Coward was but also of his love life. And Patrice's final days in Jamaica, experiencing the sadness of leaving one's life and loved ones behind, help us experience what Noel Coward must be feeling as he realizes that he is leaving this life he's loved so dearly behind.
Coward is not encouraging of Patrice's leaving Jamaica. He warns that London is cold and dreary and that Patrice will be met with prejudice and discrimination. Patrice likely won't get a job at the Ritz and if he does, the celebrities and wealthy people whom he encounters won't want to talk to their waiter. Patrice responds to these discouragements in two ways: he will make do until he makes it big and he will become extremely British to diminish the prejudice. He begins to practice the accent and thinks he might change his name to something more British. Coward warns him instead to be himself. People like people who are themselves; be Jamaican.
Being "who you are" is the measure of Coward's life. We learn that he's been knighted much later than expected, partly because, Coward suggests, of his lifestyle, which is to say his homosexuality. By the time he's knighted, the queen is concerned that Coward won't be able to kneel. All those flashbacks in the end serve to show us Coward being who he is, being authentic. While his lovers marry and continue their affairs with men, Coward lives a life that is much closer to authentic. And, as a result, he has every reason to experience the disappearance of life with sadness for the passing of what was.
Jenkins, however, never once describes those feelings of Coward's but, instead, allows Patrice's feelings to stand in for Coward's. That kind of restraint is indicative of the novel and, in the end, allows the reader to reflect more deeply than a less assured writer would have done.