Of course, it’s obvious that an editor who worked with some of the most famous writers in the 20th century is going to be very intelligent and erudite. What is not assured is what sort of a writer that editor would make when he or she takes up the pen herself. Well, in the case of Diana Athill - a very easy to read but perceptive commentator who is not shy in addressing the problems of ageing in a refreshingly honest manner.
By starting her memoir with the chapter Now we are immediately plunged into the problems of old age - her own and her mother’s.
“Why, I was once asked, do so few people send back reports about life on the frontier; and the answer is that some no longer have the ability because they have lost their wits, some no longer have the energy because they are beset by aches and pains and ailments, and those lucky enough to have hung on to their health feel just like they felt before they were old except for not being able to do an increasing number of things, and for an awareness of their bodies as sources of slight malaise, often forgettable but always there if they think about it.”
Luckily for us Athill is in the latter group and in the next few pages she discusses candidly (including the subject of sex) the limitations of old age and the death of her mother. She also explains why she decided to write the memoir and the next thing we know this marvellous old woman is nine years old. We have been transported back in time.
In the chapter Lessons Athill touches on the things she learned as a child including what it meant to be a young child living in the world of the upper classes. “If blood sports were as inevitable as the seasons, class differences were as natural as weather; and thus, like the sports, embraced contradictions which we failed to perceive.”
In the chapter The House Athill recreates the world of the estate owned by her grandparents in Norfolk. “Everything important in my life seemed to be a property of that place, the house and the gardens, the fields, woods and waters belonging to it. Beauty belonged to it, and the underlying fierceness which must be accepted with beauty; animals belonged to it, and so did books and all my other pleasures; safety belonged to it and so did my knowledge of good and evil and my wobbly preference for good.”
Athill looks at how she was brought up, telling lies and owning up to your sins in the chapter entitled God and Gramps and in Pain - a searingly honest chapter on the unhappiness of her parents’ marriage and also her brother’s at being sent to boarding school.
In the penultimate chapter Falling in Love Athill discusses love and sex and her first infatuation with her customary skill and humour. “I don’t remember falling, only having fallen, the hollow shape of love was in existence before we met, and was then gradually filled with this new reality.”
In the last chapter Now, Athill brings us up to date on her life and her memories and finishes with one of my favourite paragraphs, ever, from a memoir.