The Last Gift of Time: Life Beyond Sixty

by Carolyn G. Heilbrun

As a young woman, Carolyn Heilbrun made a resolution not to live past "three score years and ten." Taking her own life at the age of seventy, she reasoned, would lend clean closure to a life well lived, and would keep her from the many tragedies of aging--becoming a burden to her children, witnessing the deterioration of her body, falling prey to a crippling disease. But on the advent of her seventieth birthday, she looked back on the past ten years and found, to her surprise, that her sixties had been the happiest decade of after fifty years, her marriage had matured into a happy balance of companionship and respect for solitude; she had developed deep friendships with her grown children and a small circle of peers; she had mastered a highly successful career as a scholar and writer. In the poignant, essayistic writing that best showcases her elegant talent and provocative mind, Carolyn Heilbrun celebrates the many pleasures of a mature life.



Filled with wisdom, knowledge, wry humor, and literary allusion, The Last Gift of Time is a moving book for all women invested in the pursuit of leading a woman's life to its fullest capacity.

Genres: Memoir, Nonfiction, Essays, Biography, Biography Memoir, Feminism, Womens

225 pages, Hardcover

First published March 10, 1997

About the author

Carolyn Gold Heilbrun (January 13, 1926 – October 9, 2003) was an American academic and prolific feminist author of both important academic studies and popular mystery novels under the pen name of Amanda Cross.

Heilbrun attended graduate school in English literature at Columbia University, receiving her M.A. in 1951 and Ph.D in 1959. Among her most important mentors were Columbia professors Jacques Barzun and Lionel Trilling, while Clifton Fadiman was an important inspiration: She wrote about these three in her final non-fiction work, When Men Were the Only Models We Had: My Teachers Barzun, Fadiman, Trilling (2002).

Heilbrun taught English at Columbia for more than three decades, from 1960 to 1992. She was the first woman to receive tenure in the English Department. Her academic specialty was British modern literature, with a particular interest in the Bloomsbury Group. Her academic books include the feminist study Writing a Woman's Life (1988). In 1983, she co-founded and became co-editor of the Columbia University Press's Gender and Culture Series with literary scholar Nancy K. Miller. From 1985 until her retirement in 1992, she was Avalon Foundation Professor in the Humanities at Columbia.

(from Wikipedia)

Reviews

[Marguerite Hargreaves · Rating 3 out of 5]

I found this really uneven. Some of Carolyn Heilbrun's writing resonates with me and makes me think. Some of it seems decades out of touch with the times, which might just reflect the difference in our ages. And, some of it isn't Heilbrun's writing. She relies heavily here on quotes and passages from others, and after a point it seems like padding. She hasn't quite shed the habits of an academic, either. She comes off as pedantic and disengaged, not a good dynamic in a memoir.

"I entered into a period of freedom, and only past sixty learned in what freedom consists: to live without a constant, unnoticed stream of anger and resentment, without the daily contemplation of power always in the hands of the least worthy, the least imaginative, the least generous."

"I found that habit, even beautiful and generous habit, even professional or marital habit, could become a killing monster, and could be defeated, after careful analysis, by the daring of abandonment."

"What one remembers is, I think, a clue to what one wants to be."

"This revelation is mostly due to my not caring anymore what most men think. I started to stop caring once I had turned fifty, but it took me into my sixties to get this new faculty under my belt. ... The revelation that all the troubles women found themselves in with regard to men were part of the general tendencies of men everywhere, and in all cultures had escaped me until now. ... And so in my sixties I realized that I might just as well admit that pleasing oneself is the best way: suit yourself -- then at least one person will be happy."

"The only possible defense I can offer is that the patriarchy, millenniums old, has endowed males with a sense of entitlement, of being the preferred sex, of having been promised at birth opportunities for dominance, aggression and patronage, which they are able to change, even as individuals, far more slowly than those who have never been at the top of every known social hierarchy."

"My sixties covered a period of pronounced meanness in the United States and in the world, meanness arising from a sense of righteousness and the need to punish, preferable with violence, those who do not share one's beliefs. For the first time in my life I became fearful of institutionalized religion. ... The constant pelting of my consciousness by institutionalized arrogance, revenge, intolerance and unkindness has often reduced me to a sense of helplessness which leads, in turn, to sadness."

[Harley · Rating 3 out of 5]

I finally finished this -- a book I started probably 7 years ago -- before the author suicided at age 77. That fact makes an interesting backdrop to the book, because she talks about her initial decision to suicide at 70, and that she postponed that when she got to that age. I love the way she talks about the work we need to address as we get older and are "retired." It's a challenge to the way I've been dawdling.

She's pretty cranky at times, and I was disturbed a bit by her portrait of her good friend, Mae Sarton (already deceased). It seemed like a betrayal to me, like she was working out the anger she felt during their relationship.

A committed feminist, she was also committed to positive relationships with men and refused to stereotype them. Except, she did come up with one observation that she found to be true of pretty much every man she knew. They didn't believe they had an unconscious. LOL!

[Mary Karpel-Jergic · Rating 4 out of 5]

I hadn't realised the backdrop to this memoir. Heilbrun was an American academic and feminist author who committed suicide at the age of 77 by taking sleeping tablets and putting a plastic bag over her head. This memoir is an account of her reasoning behind this.

This is an insightful and honest look at ageing and how one individual chose to handle it. It's not like she had any external reasons for suicide; she was wealthy, lived a life of choice, a longstanding husband and a family. Instead this is a deeply existential account of what its like to face the reality of ageing. Why did she choose 77? She had anticipated committing suicide at 70 but put it off (one senses this is because she had such a good time in her sixties). Why didn't she wait to see how it would go? She answers this:

"The trouble with that, and it is a very tempting approach to the problem, is that by the time you really know you want to die you are too weak, or powerless, or ill to do anything about it." I get what she's saying. This is not a memoir of a woman who has given up on life, far from it. Her words are uplifting and positive and provides guidance for older people not sure how to go forward with their lives now that they have lots of time but no world in which to inhabit. She talks about the pleasure of solitude and encourages us all to use e-mail to keep in touch with people.

She recognises the differences inherent in growing up male and female and offers some sage advice with regard to relationships. I can't agree with her stereotyping of women who care about fashion to be "obsessively involved in inconsequential details on a serious basis" - I think some bias is showing through here.

Finally, she addresses the question for some of living a long life. Those who have started to feel indifferent about remaining or dying. "This harsh question 'what's the point' is judged by some as cruel, unacceptable in our culture. To me, it is a very real question, the question that renders living too long dangerous, lest we live past both the right point and our chance to die"

As to be expected, this is an academic book and is therefore littered with reference to writers that have offered her some form of enjoyment and or solace throughout her career. She raises some very important end of life issues that we are only just beginning to face now.

[Cathryn Conroy · Rating 1 out of 5]

This is a strange book. It was written by a woman (a former professor at Columbia University, author and noted literary critic) who was then in her early 70s as a reflection of how life begins a new chapter at age 60. Perfect, I thought! I just turned 60. But this is a selfish book--beginning with a lifelong intention she reveals: She had planned to commit suicide at age 70 so she would die before old age dragged her down. While she waited until age 77 to kill herself, her lifelong plan sent chills down my spine. A close family member of mine committed suicide, and for author Carolyn Heilbrun to so cavalierly plan such a thing, tell her family about it and then carry it out--albeit seven years later than originally intended--made me realize how truly selfish she was. Suicide is devastating for the loved ones who survive this horror. But back to the book. The various essays--on email, time, solitude and sex, among others--were so focused on HER that her words offered little to no wisdom to anyone else. Growing older is a gift to be celebrated with each birthday, but this book didn't offer much to celebrate as far as I was concerned. Don't waste your money and, more important, your time on this book. Life is too precious and too short.

[Tammy · Rating 4 out of 5]

There is something peaceful in reading the perspectives of a successful, intellectual, independent, and reflexive woman writing about what it is like to be entering the last chapters of one’s life. She can be blunt and politically incorrect about relationships (“men are boring”), and she can be lyrical about the last decades of life (“The piercing sense of ‘last time’ adds intensity, while the possibility of ‘again’ is never quite effaced.”). She offers the wisdom of perspective (“There is no commitment that does not bring with it its own tensions, and its own ambivalences.”).

I was drawn to her notes about the dialectical tension revolving around the need for being alone and the need for being connected (“Those who seek solitude often mistake it, I suspect. They want it because they can leave it, because it is not their whole destiny.”).

I, too, hope to have the freedom, whimsy, and incorrigibility to face my “last gift of time” – whenever that may be.

A short, delightful read.

[Kate · Rating 1 out of 5]

"When she was young, distinguished author and critic Carolyn Heulburn solemnly vowed to end her life when she turned seventy. But on the advent of that faithful birthday, she realized that her golden years had been full of unforeseen pleasures. Now, the astute and ever-insightful Heilbrun muses on the emotional and intellectual insights that brought her 'to choose each day, for now, to live.' There are reflections on her new house and her sturdy, comfortable marriage; sweet solitude; the fascination with E-mail; and the joy of discovering unexpected friends. Even the encroachments of loss, pain, and sadness that come with age cannot spoil Heilbrun's moveable feast. They are merely the price of bountiful living."
~~back cover

This book just wasn't what I was expecting. In my seventies myself, I had anticipated more visceral approaches to the joys and vicissitudes of wandering towards one's final years. The essays did that, but on a very intellectual level, with quotes from other writers. So I abandoned the book, since I have so many more to be read before I depart.

[Carol · Rating 4 out of 5]

I read this book after reading Carolyn's obituary trying to find in this brilliant woman's book the reasons for her suicide. She has many very helpful ideas and lots of anger and no real notion of transcendence or that her life might be a gift for which she owes the Giver some contribution. I am very glad to have read it because she has many perceptive remarks about other authors and even ideas of how to sharpen the joy of life in your sixties or beyond (she killed herself at 77) but it is also a cautionary tale.

[Gail · Rating 4 out of 5]

More really a set of essays, this wonderful book explores age, choosing suicide, the benefits of solitude, dogs, and various other topics in Heilbrun's erudite, witty style. This is a great book for anyone who is over 50 or who cares about someone over 50. A wonderful read. A special treat is her chapter on Virginia Woolf.
Update now that I found my commonplace book again: The essays are a bit uneven in quality, but those dealing with email, clothing, and the author May sarton are outstanding.

[Patty · Rating 4 out of 5]

I remember really liking Heibrun's book, Writing a Woman's Life and I enjoyed the mysteries that she wrote under the pseudonym Amanda Cross. So when this book appeared on the donation shelf at my library, I decided to read it.

I am about to start my sixties, and I will start them as a retired person. So, I was intrigued by the quotes on the cover of this book. Apparently, the reviewer for the LA Times found this book "Thoughtful...Often humorous" and the Boston Globe thought Heilbrun "honest, unsentimental, intelligent". I wanted to hear from another woman who had lived through the decade I am about to start. I hoped Heilbrun would give me some insight into how to conduct my retirement.

As I read, I went back and forth between aggravated and comforted by Heibrun. She is honest in her opinions - some of which drove me crazy. However, she makes aging seem worth doing, so I was reassured by that part of her essays. All in all I am glad to have read how one women dealt with her sixth decade.

Heilbrun was an opinionated person with strong convictions especially about her family, feminism and death. I am impressed with her accomplishments - to be a feminist as a professor at Columbia in the 1970's and 1980's was near impossible. To also rear a family and write a mystery series makes her close to godlike. All of her accomplishments are amazing.

However, Heilbrun committed suicide at 77 - about six years after writing this optimistic look at getting older. I found this disconcerting. One of my friends said that Heilbrun was incredibly selfish. I guess I agree.

She talks about suicide in this book and so maybe people should have felt warned. She also mentioned her mother died at 77 which is when Heilbrun killed herself. In the last essay, Heilbrun says she doesn't want to outlive her husband. I could never completely separate what I know about Heilbrun's life from what she wrote in these essays and so I sometimes found her optimism and humor difficult to take.

The essays are wonderful. Heilbrun was an excellent writer, I couldn't put the book down. I recommend this book to all women readers especially those in their fifties and sixties. No one has to or should feel obligated to see the end of life as Heilbrun did. Thank goodness, when we read a book we can take the good without needing to accept the bad.

[Terri Ann · Rating 2 out of 5]

I was sorely disappointed. Heilbrun spoke only briefly and fleetingly about her own feelings, experiences and hesitation at growing older. Instead she repeatedly felt the need to mention that she had grown up "of privilage", souring the book of any human contact. Her writing is cold and distant, lacking warmth and emotion. She is too busy quoting other authors, artists and friends; poems, quotations, relaying other's perspectives. I didn't read the book to read about other's takes on growing older, I read it as being toted as a biography. I was disappointed and couldn't read it cover to cover. I will steer clear of the author in future selections, but perhaps an autobiography would be more interesting as to her final outcome.

[Linda · Rating 2 out of 5]

I checked this book out of the library because I thought there would be words of wisdom about growing older. Instead it felt more like the kind of chitchat you'd have with a neighbor you barely knew when you ran into her while walking the dog. Why she bought a house. Why she liked email. Why she quit wearing pantyhose. I was looking for profound insights into being over 60 years of age and what I got was some pleasant Saturday afternoon gossip.

[Jocelyn · Rating 3 out of 5]

Some interesting chapters in this memoir; a good beginning and ending, but the middle? not so compelling.

[Robin · Rating 4 out of 5]

I was a big fan of Heilbrun's academic mysteries, which I discovered in the 1970s, written under "Amanda Cross" and then her "Writing a Woman's Life" (1988). Nearing the end of my sixties it was time to take my copy of this book out and read it as I move into retirement. Skimming some of the other Goodreads reviews makes me wonder if I was shaped more by early feminists than some of the other readers or simply more willing to read this both as a historic piece and as one in sympathy, or at least not shocked, with Heilbrun's long-stated intent to commit suicide at age 70 while she was "still herself" (she found her sixties so rich that she waited until 77).

The chapters each take up a topic--her "own" place, getting a dog, time, May Sarton, England, memory, sadness, family, etc. Having just read May Sarton's "At Seventy," I found that particular chapter interesting. I appreciated as well the discussions of academia (Heilbrun was the first tenured prof in the English department at Columbia and her experience among her male faculty colleagues was not pleasant), the mentions of others of her generation--Tom Driver (long at Union Seminary), Sylvia Townsend Warner ("Lolly Willowes" and Tudor church music!), Gloria Steinem (whose bio CH wrote), poet Maxine Kumin--along with the quotations and poems in each chapter. Some parts are rather dated; I found the chapter on e-mail particularly funny from our current perspective (still mostly in pandemic isolation, heavily reliant on technology). Reading things like this book reminds me of my mother, who taught me the deep pleasures of reading and also to value what people ahead of me in this life thought about, whether it was my experience or not.

[Karen · Rating 4 out of 5]

I read this book for a purpose that had nothing to do with being ‘beyond sixty’ even though I am. I read it because I wanted to see if there might be clues as to why the author said she was going to commit suicide and did, some years after the book’s publication.

There are clues aplenty, but no answers. In these essays, Heilbrun is by turns witty, thoughtful, pragmatic, occasionally melancholic. She has many friends, a noted academic career, plenty of money, adult children she considers her friends, a 50 year plus marriage that she reports as so good that she can’t handle the thought of him dying before her.

In the preface, Heilbrun talks about her long-held intention to commit suicide at age 70, the age at which she is writing this book. She didn’t kill herself at seventy because, it turns out, her sixties were the best decade of her life.

In the last essay, On Mortality, Heilbrun ends with a poem ‘Otherwise’ by poet Jane Kenyon. The end of the poem and the end of the book reads, “I slept in a bed in a room with paintings on the walls, and planned another day just like this day. But one day, I know, it will be otherwise.”

Heilbrun gives lots of reasons for her intended suicide. None of them explain why on a particular day, half a dozen years after this book’s publication, Heilbrun went for a walk with a friend, went about her daily routines, then took sleeping pills and put a plastic bag over her head. She wasn’t ill. She simply decided. That determination, the carefully measured tone, the self-knowledge and pragmatism are all through these essays. Maybe the answer is as simple as that — Carolyn decided.

[Dr. Sabrina Molden · Rating 5 out of 5]

Dear Carolyn: I absolutely loved the wisdom and inspiration you shared in this book. You almost perfectly validated all the thoughts and feelings I have had in my sixties and you gave me so much hope for the bright future to come. You beautifully and eloquently explained how to really LIVE life NOW. I checked on you, Carolyn, and learned you committed suicide 7 years after finishing this book. It broke my heart. I have been so perplexed.

[Tine Bjornlund · Rating 4 out of 5]

Very endearing, particularly as the author is trying to convince us that email is a good thing. The book is from 1997 so email is “new”.

[Jane · Rating 4 out of 5]

Found it at a library sale. The first essays were amazing. Not as keen about the later ones.

[Nancy Mumpton · Rating 3 out of 5]

Interesting in its own way, but not what I thought it would be.

[Jean · Rating 4 out of 5]

Okay, I admit it. I like memoirs from certain slightly peevish women aged 60 and beyond. May Sarton, MFK Fisher, and Carolyn Heilbrun all appeal. This passage from Heilbrun in this book is typical: “The major danger in one’s sixties—so I came to feel—is to be trapped in one’s body and one’s habits, not to recognize those supposedly sedate years as the time to discover new choices and to act upon them. To continue what one had been doing—is, I came to see, and the vision frightened me, easy in one’s sixties.” What and how Heilbrun (and others) do to make their remaining time meaningful, considered, and satisfying makes for good reading. I don’t think I would embrace Heilbrun’s thoughts on the practicality of ending one’s life – “leaving the party” – at a date you have settled on well in advance, but I find a lot to admire there too. (Heilbrun killed herself at 77, with no forewarning or apparent signs of depression, and no faith, or certainly not in the conventional sense, of God or afterlife.) This book is well worth reading, especially for women of a certain age.

[Linda · Rating 4 out of 5]

I learned alot about getting ready to die in this book, and it was a good thing. I am turning 65 soon and Heilbrun relates that at this age, you could easily die and have people think, "well, she wasn't old, but she wasn't that young." We are in our time to die now. And, she has suggestions for how to prepare for death as she reflects on the great life she has had. I first came upon Heilbrun as the author of AMANDA CROSS novels. Amanda Cross is her pen name. Heilbrun was a professor at Columbia for years and in this book she tells us how hateful academia is and how hard it is to be a woman in that world. She also talks about how she found certain story lines for her lady detective while working at Columbia. But mostly she talks about as the subtitle says: "Life Beyond Sixty." I found this book comforting and I feel more infomed about what to do and how to act as I approach death. When? Nobody knows.

[Happyreader · Rating 4 out of 5]

What struck me about this book was that it is a very positive book about an age that the author had not expected to be positive about. Carolyn Heilbrun wrote this book in her 70s, a decade she had dreaded reaching. Instead of feeling obsolete, she discovers that she can maintain her intellectual curiousity and still engage with the world. What's most shocking is what isn't in the book -- her suicide in 2003 despite not suffering any ill health, either physical or mental. Perhaps I'm too young to understand but that suicide still shocks me. There's the mention of contemplating suicide before 70 at the beginning of this book but the book seems to affirm why her life is still worth living. I've always wondered what changed or what was confirmed for her five years later that made her end her life.

[Chris · Rating 2 out of 5]

I bought and read this book because it advertised that she wrote about living beyond 60. I was curious to read and see if she would go into how to do it and do it well!?

New York Times Book Review says, "Like a letter to a friend, the kind you don't lie to..." This is true, Carolyn went so far as to talk about suicide. She believed in being in control of her life as well as her death. And she was true to her word, her quality of life must have been less then she desired, she committed suicide at the age of 77. She was 71 while writing this book and I didn't hear about her cause of death until after I finished the book and googled her....so sad.

[Ann · Rating 3 out of 5]

A set of essays about growing older. Carolyn Heilbrun reminds me of the Roman Stoics (she died of a suicide at age 77) and her writing is as clear and architectural as a classic Latin sentence. But the essays themselves were rather forgettable. She buys a house, just to be alone. She makes a big-to-do about wearking only pants and flat shoes (in the 1990s! Hardly a sartorial revolution by then!). She bemoans the dearth of novels about older, romance-less women. She explains at length why email is a great way to stay in touch... many of these essays (dating from 1992, I believe) are a little dated now.

[Susan · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Never having expected to retire, not having yet considered it before it came upon me, I discovered retirement to be a gift especially suited to my sixties, when I could relish it's delicate flavor."

"Women catch courage from the women whose lives and writings they read, and women call the bearer of that courage friend."

[Jean Grant · Rating 3 out of 5]

I was disappointed by this book which I had so eagerly looked forward to reading. That said, some of the essays spoke to me, e.g. Unmet Friends, Sadness, England. Heilbrun can write clearly--see her Amanda Cross mysteries--but here she did not. It was far too intellectual for my taste. I think her editor should have dissuaded her from including her essay on email which now seems terribly dated.

[Barbara · Rating 5 out of 5]

Wonderful story of a life well lived and recorded. I would love to have had Professor Heilbrun in college - her openness and frank discussion of feminism was perfect for her time and opened the door for us to follow.

[Sharon Ouderkirk · Rating 3 out of 5]

This collection of essays works as a memoir, detailing the last decade or so of Heilbrun's life. Her original plan was to end her life at 70, but she had so much fun in her sixties, that she kept on for another seven years. In the face of the fact that she had a husband, children and grandchildren, her final decision seems ice cold, but when you read the book, you get a sense of the numerous ways in which Heilbrun was a lonely woman: an only child, estranged, for unstated reasons, from her father's family, (although she later met them) raised outside of her faith, and non-believing, the first woman professor in the English department at Columbia, a feminist at a time of significant opposition to feminism, a career woman who also struggled to raise a family before that was common. She was a successful professor and writer, and raised her family, but she paid the price of all trailblazers: there was often no one to empathize with her. She talks about loneliness as a theme in her life, and I think in this book one gets a sense of her successes and her underlying sadness.
I mostly enjoyed the essays about writing, and Heilbrun's reflections on rewriting the expected plots for men and women. In the essay, "Sex and Romance" she talks about finding a new kind of adventure in your senior years, one that is not dependent on the romance quest for its excitement. She could not come up with another kind of quest, but of course, the obvious one is a spiritual quest. (Heilbrun was a non-believer).
In her essay 'Unmet Friends' she talks about writers that she has followed for many years. I have followed and read Heilbrun (also as Amanda Cross) for years; I feel for her a similar kinship that she felt for Maxine Kumin.
She also wrote a memorial to her friend, May Sarton. I originally sought out Sarton because of Heilbrun's previous recommendations; I didn't like Sarton. The memorial doesn't change anything, as it focuses on Sarton's more annoying qualities. I think I would have been more interested in an essay that explains why Heilbrun was her friend for decades.
Heilbrun was always an interesting writer, someone who could prompt you to debate her ideas over years. I admire her for her stubborn insistence on her right to govern her own life, and make her own path, an example from which most women can benefit. We part company on the question of interdependence; she didn't want to be needed at the expense of her own self-will. but I don't see how loneliness would dissipate any other way.

[Ruth Anne · Rating 5 out of 5]

My family discovered Carolyn Gold Heilbrun was a relative after reading an article in the NYT Magazine. My father's uncle, Archie Gold, had put my father through college, and as he read the piece he realized that's who she was referring to. She and my mother became great friends, and was angry and heartbroken when Heilbrun committed suicide.

From Wikipedia: "Heilbrun expressed her desire to take her own life on her 70th birthday because "there is no joy in life past that point, only to experience the miserable endgame." She turned 70 in January 1996 and did not follow up on her idea at the time. She lived another seven years. One fall morning in 2003, she went for a walk around New York City with her longtime friend Mary Ann Caws and told the latter: "I feel sad." When Caws prompted her why, Heilbrun responded: "The universe."[7] Afterward, she went home to her apartment. The next morning she was found dead, having taken sleeping pills and placed a plastic bag over her head. She left a suicide note, which read: "The journey is over. Love to all." She was 77 years old. According to her son, she had been in good health with no known physical or mental ailments, and she felt her life was "completed".[7]"

It's worthwhile to read the entire Wiki article for further knowledge of her struggles at Columbia in regards to Women's Studies, and describes further the article in the NYT Magazine. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carolyn...

Heilbrun wrote a number of popular Kate Fansler mysteries under the name Amanda Cross. As a professor at Columbia University, the first woman to receive tenure in the English department, and a prolific feminist author of academic studies, it wouldn't have done to have written Cross' works. The first novel in the Fansler series was shortlisted for the Edgar Award in the category of Best First novel.

My copy is inscribed "For Ruth Anne, whose mother Melly is one of my favorite people."

[Margaux Tatin Blanc]

Having enjoyed the sophisticated banter of her detective novels (a kind of modern Dorothy Sayers!) And appreciating her studies and literary work during her tenure at Columbia University, I thought that as I am getting older, I might enjoy to read her opinions about life beyond sixty...
However this book is a bunch of essays pulled together... like if she had written them for the New Yorker at different moments and they were suddenly edited together... They did not really make sense as a whole, sometimes they repeat themselves in strange ways... like she does not remember she said that in the second chapter??? and so she writes it again in the sixth... And then she does not write as a woman, more like a teacher in retirement. It is full of quotes and analysis... not so much of SOUL... or FEELING... The good point of writing at that time of life it seems is that you don't have to be careful any more and she writes about May Sarton in a way I am sure May Sarton would not have enjoyed...
She asks good questions but does not answer them, or if she does it is in a superficial and dated way... She uses poems and quotes like a student in an essay, nothing goes deep...
I felt like I had kind of wasted my time reading this... even if she speaks of writers I like, and she is knowledgeable... and maybe is a representation of her time?
People make much of the fact that she talks about suicide in the book and she did kill herself at 77.. but she does not go in depth either on that idea of the suicide really in the book, and I don't know enough of her life and the circumstances of her suicide to have an opinion... Some other reviewers call her suicide selfish, but how can one say that without knowing fully the situation and what made her decide to do this...
And reading her book does not give you the answer to that... or to anything else in fact!

[Mag · Rating 3 out of 5]

I started reading this book because this is exactly where I am - in my sixties. There is much in the book that I can easily relate to, but equally much that I can relate to only somewhat. Some of it is the generation gap, I guess. Heilbrun was born in 1926, ten years before my mother. Some of it is that she discusses people I have no opinion or relation to, and issues that seem somewhat passé. A big feminist, she discusses gender issues throughout the book that are still very much ongoing. I surmise from her discussion of androgyny that she would feel very comfortable with the ‘they’ pronoun. Much of her advice, or to better put it as sharing of her experience of how to enjoy the sixties is thought provoking and enjoyable. In most part it’s a very optimistic, even though somewhat nostalgic book.

So the big shock came when I read that Heilbrun committed suicide when she was 77. I’m wondering why. Were her mental powers waning? Was she sick? She talks about her younger self’s commitment not to live past the prime (threescores years and ten according to the Bible) and not to become a burden on the others. Was that coming? Did she have ‘her span’, and she was afraid that ‘people will think less of her’, as she cites after an Ivy Compton-Burnett’s novel? Who knows. She did seem a very self-directed person, independent of influences and opinions, and frankly, not very concerned with the feelings of others.
An interesting article here suggests that she was in perfect health, sad about the universe, though.
https://nymag.com/nymetro/news/people...