I believe this was recommended to me from LIKEWISE, an app, or maybe via AMAZON or GOODREADS. The title intrigued me so I bought it about a year ago and decided to start it earlier this month. It was kind of depressing because the main character was a recent widower (his wife died). He roams around his comfortable home and is writing about WWII stories (for which he had been a soldier). Then, I come to learn that he and his wife had a son who had lost a leg during the Vietnam War. Once home on an honorable discharge, the son has an operation so that he could be fitted for a prosthetic leg—but he ended up dying from a blood clot after the operation.
I think I should be reading a book called RULES FOR YOUNG MEN CONTINUING! However, the author of this book did touch me at moments. I even sent a note to his daughter, Maggie, on Instagram, informing her about it. I hope she’ll be touched.
The book was like three stories in one:
1. An elder man coping with the misery of his deceased wife
2. A WWII story that includes a murder (or two) among American soldiers/officers
3. A man and woman, dealing with the loss of their only son
The main character, Robert MacIver, was a historian (just like the author) who long ago played rugby for Scotland (just like the author) and created a list of rules by which to live out his last days. The most important rule, to “TELL A STORY TO ITS END”. It is semi-autobiographical. I am sure of it.
I think the WWII story has the most potential if the characters were built-up more and focus had been just that one story—but then it wouldn’t really be RULES FOR OLD MEN WAITING, I suppose.
I got curious about the author, Peter Pouncey, and I came to learn that he had died himself on May 30, 2023 (just a few weeks ago) at the age of 85 in Canaan, CT. He had been the president of Amherst College for ten years (1984-1994).
In any case, here are the lines that caught my attention:
“Tell a story to its end.”
Why labor to put names on things, when there was no one there to say them to?
He should do things every day to keep himself alert and as happy as possible. If you are going to go under, it shouldn’t be from the weight of self-pity alone. He must make rules to hold himself together.
The well-ordered life for a feeble old man:
Keep personally clean
Make bed every morning, and clean house twice a week
Eat regularly
Play music and read
Television only in the evening, except for weekend and seasonal showdown sports
Work every morning. Nap in afternoon, if needed.
When you go to bed, you’ll have to take whatever dreams are sent, and maybe some will be of use.
“Work to consist of telling a story to the end, not just shards, but the whole pot.”
The truth was, he was a little pleased with himself: you felt better if you did something—anything.
Play MAHLER’s Sixth Symphony to keep the mellow mood flowing.
Of course, everyone’s afraid of what they can’t see.
“The thing about you is that you have a lot of violence in your nature, and only a piece of you disapproves of the fact: you had better find a gentle girl and marry her, so you can learn the rest.”
We must not assume that oral history ever gives us the whole history.
Neither the whisky nor the fire could quell his shivers. But he sat on after the music, thinking as he liked to do, about his boyhood.
She was asked what it was like going to bed with him, she had answered, “It’s sort of like going to bed with a polar bear. You know that when he settles down, he’s going to keep you nice and snug, but you don’t know what sort of friskiness he’s going to get up to first.”
Aristotle says that every animal except woman and the rooster are sad after sex.
“Do you think also that sometimes, the level of expectations directed towards you compels you to rise higher, to be more than yourself?”
“You know, the cruel thing about depression is it makes you...remove all flashes of energy or concentration, to ensure that you can never complete anything, so that you have no smidgeon of self-esteem left.”
“I’ll do what one always does in Paris, I’ll pick up shiny chestnuts in the Place des Vosges and watch children float ancient wooden toy boats with faded sails in the ponds of the Tuileries gardens and sit in cafes and sip what the mood of the moment orders and drink in everything else, and go to concerts and in churches in the evening, and read. And occasionally I’ll think of you.”
The beautiful thing about war was that officers often have their hand forced to do things that would never occur to them in peace.
It is hard to catch the mood of a meeting when you come in very late and have no idea of the developments before.
“I like to think I’m a very little bit like Odysseus, the Greek, whose name means something about sorrow. I was crazy about him when I read him in school. And when he was a boy, he went to visit his granddad; They were doing nothing but Art, and everything was beautiful. But unfortunately, there was this huge rampaging wild boar messing things up and eating people; and Odysseus went out and hunted him. The boar just erupted out of the thicket, but Odysseus was ready, and got his spear into him, but the weight of the boar was on him, and he got his tusk into the boy’s leg before he died, and Odysseus carried the scar for the rest of his life.”
He did not intend to write another line, but he could still take an interest in the characters he had created; there was some pleasure in projecting their lives further out, or going forwards and backwards over them, as memory does with our own.
You want a happy ending, you want it all to add up to one big thing, the good and the bad, the plus and the minuses, the nature and the violence to nature. Well, good luck, I suppose, but I can’t do it.
We do learn from each other, especially those we admire or love.
“You’ve been so wrong so many times, but you can’t have been wrong every time.”
At key times; you start to write a first novel with doubt, but I became conscious of a resonant chorus in the air around me, strong with the insistence that the time comes when you stop talking and finish what you have begun. A book goes nowhere unless it is adopted or espoused, and then advanced.