I was 21-years-old when Erica Jong’s FEAR OF FLYING was published, and I remember being mesmerized by the way she wrote about sex. This was 1973, and while the woman’s movement was definitely going strong, female sexuality was still something mysterious and not totally acceptable to talk about. But Jong’s narrator, Isadora Wing, longed for what she called the “zipless ****,” a spontaneous sexual encounter with a nameless stranger that would be pure experience without attachments, strings, or obligations. And now, over four decades later, Jong revisits Isadora’s world in FEAR OF DYING, which focuses on the vast changes in women’s lives as we grow old and face our own mortality. This time, the narrator is 60-year-old Vanessa Wonderman, a “darling friend” of Isadora’s who is dealing with her aging parents, her 85-year-old husband, and a beloved standard poodle also nearing his end. The story Vanessa tells is somber and difficult, but also uplifting and affirming in surprising ways. I’m just a few years older than Vanessa, and I totally identify with her struggles to deal with her dying parents, her fears about her husband’s health issues, and her oddly beautiful attachment to her poodle Belinda. It’s just the sex talk that doesn’t quite work for me this time around. And there’s lot of it!
The one thing I remember most about FEAR OF FLYING was what happened when Isadora finally found herself in a position to experience the “zipless ****.” Instead of leaping into it with open arms, she rebuffed the stranger’s advances, realizing only much later that she had missed her chance. In FEAR OF DYING, Vanessa is a former soap opera actress who has had many zipless experiences, as well as countless “zipped-up” ones. She’s been married several times, had an abundance of lovers, and sees herself as a sexually free woman. She’s also super wealthy, as is her billionaire husband. But as she watches her parents grow weaker and weaker in their final months of life, it’s sex she hopes will save her from the “fear of dying.” She runs an ad on a fantasy sex website. She contacts former lovers. What does she want, Jong asks? “I wanted sex to prove that I would never die,” Vanessa says.
Like Vanessa and Isadora (and like Erica Jong), I’ve changed a lot in the past 40-plus years. What titillated and intrigued me in 1973 doesn’t quite do the same today. I, too, am dealing with the end of my parents’ lives. Like Vanessa’s Asher, my own husband has health issues that threaten to cut short his life. And my own beloved cat (like Vanessa’s dog, Belinda) is showing signs that her life, too, may be nearing its end. It’s all very hard, and very real, and very much a part of all of our lives. But I can’t quite identify with Vanessa’s delight in sexual dalliances, her love of sexually charged words I can’t imagine using in casual speech, or her conviction that through orgasm she can immunize herself against death. The novel’s first line is, “I used to love the power I had over men,” which is all about sex. By the end, however, Vanessa realizes that “We give [sex] much more power than it perhaps deserves.”
I loved parts of FEAR OF DYING, because it spoke to me of things I, myself, am pondering these days. What gives us purpose? How can we forgive ourselves our shortcomings? How can we forgive those who have hurt us? And how can we face the end of life, when we’re never quite sure what living is in the first place? As Vanessa finally says, “Death is fearlessness. It’s the anticipation of our dying that’s the problem.” In some ways, Vanessa begins this novel believing that life is a huge joke, with death as its ultimate punch line. She longs for sex as a means of anaesthetizing herself against the punch in the gut she knows will eventually come. But she learns pretty much the same thing her friend Isadora did years before – life and death are the same thing. The very act of living is also the act of dying, since every step we take, every move we make, brings us that much closer to the end. It’s not sex that ends up saving Vanessa, but living. “Don’t be afraid,” Jong tells us. “Fear is a waste of life.” And that is something we can all celebrate.
This is an intelligent and literary novel with a believable and identifiable protagonist. She may be a bit more sexually super-charged than many of us in our sixties, but her journey is in many ways all of ours. I do recommend FEAR OF DYING.
[Please note: I was provided a copy of this novel for review; the opinions expressed here are my own.]