Communication
老成学研究所 > Messages to this Era > ”Life, End of as An Encouragement of Facing Aging” : Yukihide Endo
Christine Brooke-Rose’s Novel,
Life, End of as An Encouragement of Facing Aging
Yukihide Endo
The Swiss-born English writer Christine Brooke-Rose’s novel, Life, End of (2006), is a mysterious interweaving of fact and imagination about an old woman’s declining health and her perseverance through severe chronic illness. Indeed, while dealing with the reality of aging that is principally ascribed to all life and thus gravely affects all humanity, this book employs a wide range of dry humor techniques, insomuch that it creates an alternative view of aging. It seems as if its narrator is the author’s alter ego. One might describe the novel as autobiographical, but the author’s innate pursuit for literary experimentalism creates newer variations of fiction writing. Brook-Rose’s preferred device is “omission”. For instance, in her 1968 novel Between, the verb “to be” has been left out, perhaps to represent her life-long question about beingness, or rather, her own existence. Late in her life, however, it seems the question of identity was replaced by the assertion of identity. The title of the novel discussed in this essay is exemplary of her experimentalism in the form of inverted word order, so as to bring the keyword “life”, rather than its “end” (or death) into the initial position. As she wrote it, what concerned her the most was how a decrepit person could challenge aging in order to live out that which remains of life bravely and individualistically.
Replacement as such does not mean transformation of Brooke-Rose’s nature, but rather both propensities were still embedded in her personality. This ambivalence of her disposition might be relevant to her family background, which seemed not necessarily unhappy, but aberrant. She was born to an English father and Swiss-American mother in Geneva. Following her parents’ divorce in her early childhood, she was raised by her maternal grandparents in Brussels. In addition, her married life was short-lived and unstable, for she married three times and even had an extramarital affair.
Rather than looking for the perfect partner, one might argue that Brooke-Rose sought that which would confirm her own identity because she subconsciously wondered who she was. Her nontraditional early family environment and unstable adult married life might serve as a motive for her nontraditional storytelling. In his memorial essay, Stuart Jeffries remarks that Brooke-Rose avoids using first-person narration in her (allegedly) autobiographical novels such as Remake (1996) and Life, End of. As illustrated by the latter, the aged Brooke-Rose did not yet feel certain about her identity. Thus, the book does not adopt the individual categorization of the narrator, but presents her as “the old lady” that represents the collective categorization (Jeffries 2012). This implies that Brooke-Rose perceived simple and naïve self-identification as overly emotional, and that this 80- something author strove to develop a challenge mindset to face the reality of aging.
However, not only Brooke-Rose’s personal background but also her intellectual relationships in French academia encouraged her to develop a literary experimentalist spirit. In the late 1960s, one of the paragons of French feminist criticism, the poststructuralist critic Hélène Cixous invited her to teach at the newly founded “Experimental University Centre of Vincennes” (presently, Université Paris 8 Vincennes-Saint-Denis)—a product of the May 1968 cultural revolution in France. She taught there until 1988, but in choosing not to collaborate with her feminist colleagues, she developed a literary perspective of her own.
Brooke-Rose’s artistic and literary propensity sheds light on how Life, End of unfolds. The novel’s first chapter begins by describing the ways in which an old invalid woman (allusively a woman like the author herself) cleanses her body. Weakness in the lower body reduces mobility and can even increase the risk of fall-related injuries. In fact, the narrator is aware of such risks, but even so, this meticulous description of the situation suggests she keeps her sense of implicit humor.
The head top leans against the bathroom mirror so that the looking glass becomes a feeling glass. But what does it feel? This position is for body-balance during the brushing of teeth and the washing of face neck arms and torso (Brooke-Rose, p. 7; note – as if mimicking the stream of her consciousness, the author omitted commas).
When physically healthy, everyday movements such as tooth brushing, body drying, and even standing without support, are a kind of familiar routine or ritual that can be done automatically. In contrast, people with physical disabilities need something to maintain postural stability in their most basic daily tasks. Indeed, as described above, the looking glass acts differently from its normal function in the way that helps the disabled woman hold steady. It stimulates the sense of touch through the head skin receptors to control body balance. An alternative way to maintain body balance is to make “the loins touch the washbasin however cold, or the hand grips the edge, on condition neither is wet” so as not to fall on the floor (Brooke-Rose, p. 7).
Aging is unforgiving, but Brooke-Rose challenged it in her own way. A far cry from sentimentalist when coping with a predicament, she always had patience and courage. Jean-Michel Rabaté, professor of literature at the University of Pennsylvania, former student of hers at Experimental University Centre of Vincennes, and her lifelong friend, brings to the fore her inner strength and resilience. He writes:
When she died on 21 March 2012 in Cabrières d’Avignon from a degenerative disease of the nervous system, she had been blind and paralysed for a few painful years. Ever the wry observer and playful novelist, she documented unflinchingly and as long as she could the progression of her crippling disease in Life, End of (2006). This farewell to life is devoid of sentimentality. What matters to the ailing woman is the difficulty of relating to ‘other people’, called O. P. for short. This is always the more numerous group of people who cannot imagine the hurdles brought to an ailing body by everyday activities and simple needs. A few true friends remained, as well as the small but crucial comforts provided by music, news and culture on the radio. Christine wrote an anticipated obituary in this moving memoir about old age (Rabaté, p. 195).
Her coinage of “O.P.” reveals that Brooke-Rose in real life suffered not only from age-related disease, but also from social isolation. This alienation evidently worsened because in her early 80s, while her legs became disabled, she also began to lose her sight. As one of her best friends, Mr. Rabaté visited her when she was planning to write an additional chapter for Life, End of and found out that despite being blind, she was miraculously able to write and read. To his surprise, her cognitive abilities remained active. Unbelievably, she could write with her index finger on the notepad and, even erase unnecessary or incorrect words. Needless to say, all these words were invisible to him. Moreover, her reading comprehension was perfect as well. She read aloud an invisible letter her sister had sent her ten years earlier. Rabaté quotes her complete dismissal of an allegation of written message fabrication, “I could never have invented this letter. It is not by me. This is not my style at all. I recognize my sister’s hand and her way of writing. I could never invent that” (Rabaté, p. 198). In reality, every page of the notepad was blank but she perceived each page to be filled with text. Rabaté was amazed that she was able to “read them as if they had been printed in her brain” (Rabaté, p. 198).
Just as this episode described by Rabaté suggests that the author Brooke-Rose in her 80s strove to face and challenge age-related deteriorating physical activity and cognitive health, so too does Life, End of (Rabaté, p. 198). This novel frequently relates problems that elderly people have with walking that can cause slips, trips, and falls and which usually necessitate using a cane, a walker (aka zimmer frame), or even a wheelchair. As in Brooke-Rose’s case, however, vision problems (visual failure) are likewise serious. Most elderly people contract glaucoma and, in some cases, cataracts as well. The novel’s last chapter brings up glaucoma, for which the narrator is due to receive surgery. Aware of age-related hip and eye problems, the narrator mimics naval slang (“aye aye, sir”) and says half-jokingly to her eye doctor:
From hip to eye, I eye sir. The glaucous glaucoming eyes now ready for laser treatment – on a special chair down the stairs and onto a stretcher as imagined once – have had an accident he says the ophthalmo[logist]), a haemorrhage of the right eye which may have touched the left. Like an infarctus [this French word meaning “heart attack” in English], like a heart-attack of the eye, you know. He laughs a lot.
How can the eye have a heart-attack?
Because it loves, it loves (Brooke-Rose, p. 117).
The narrator’s response to the doctor’s question is odd – too unique to appreciate – but at the same time, humorous. No doubt, love can be associated with heart attack. In the online essay, “Is this love … or an arrhythmia? Your heart really can skip a beat when you’re in love” (Han and Brown 2022), a cardiologist at Monash University and his colleague argue that this association is scientifically correct, as illustrated by the phenomenon of love at first sight.
Brooke-Rose complains about her ophthalmologist’s regular but unsuccessful consultations. Her eyesight gets worse so that “within three days, fast, the [left] eyelid lowers, as if a defective eye needs less space (Brooke-Rose, p. 117). A visiting friend is asked if the [left] eye has dropped[,] and [this friend] says [“]no[”]. At this moment the narrator believes that both eyes work, at least, somehow. The narrator herself tries to examine whether the eye gets lost, the description of which is absurdly amusing. To do this, she uses the mirror placed high on the wall of the bathroom. Since she sits in a wheelchair, however difficult it is for her to avoid falling, she can’t but stand up from the sitting position. Then she finds out that not only the left eye stays safe, but also that the right eye has gone blind. The original passage reads:
A visiting friend is asked if the eye has dropped and says no. The high bathroom mirror … looked at by standing against the wheelchair locked and hands on the washstand and the handrail, says otherwise. That otherwise means blindness, unnoticed since the left eye gives sight … Closing that left eye reveals the blindness of the right (Brooke-Rose, p. 117).
This depiction can be seen as a fake puzzle which the narrator has concocted, half nastily and half jokingly, to entertain the reader,.
Throughout the novel, Brooke-Rose repeatedly depicts the seriousness of elderly people’s everyday tasks but interestingly, she does so through humor. Her view of aging necessitates provocatively creative, experimental, and adventurous storytelling. Because of her lifelong enjoyment in the pursuit of reading and writing, she prides herself on being a good writer. Storytelling techniques, as such, help open up new perspectives on how different readers might approach the novel, each considering aging in their own way.
Commenting in this pseudo-autobiographical novel, literary critic Dennis Cooper, who is active in online media, writes:
“The story is very simple. A woman (… a character? a narrator? the author? all three?) … is getting older. Friends visit, people care, or don’t. Things worsen. She has a couple of falls; ‘the author collapses, into the character again’. A table with wheels is bought, to make things easier, and it causes a raft of new difficulties. She likes to write, ‘just for fun, for therapy, for the happiness of wordplay, the deep joy of sentences creating other sentences”, but writing is getting more and more difficult as time passes” (Cooper, 2006).
Cooper is right in saying that “The story is very simple” because Life, End of depicts the general truth about aging. This novel narrates what not necessarily everybody, but most people, inevitably experience in one way or another.
Brooke-Rose’s narrative delivery is witty, ironic, and sometimes bitter, but not bleakly sarcastic. Her powerful language and narrative provide an insightful and implicitly humorous perspective on her declining health and interpersonal relationships. This narrative style opens up encouraging alternative perspectives on how elderly people can resist any form of physical retardation.
In Life, End of, fact and fiction merge so inseparably, as the author intends, that it turns out to be neither pessimistic nor despairing in the traditional sense. Whilst acclaimed as a literary critic, Brooke-Rose has also been known as a provocatively experimental novelist. This novel provides no exception.
【Bibliography】
Brooke-Rose, Christine. 2012. Life, End of. Carcanet Press. (Paperback & Kindle) Cooper, Dennis. 2006.
https://denniscooperblog.com/spotlight-on-christine-brooke-rose-life-end-of-2006-2/.
Han, Hui-Chen and Hannah Brown. 2022. “Is this love … or an arrhythmia? Your heart really can skip a beat when you’re in love”. The Conversation.
Jeffries, Stuart. 2012. “Christine Brooke-Rose obituary”. The Guardian. March 23.
https://www.theguardian.com/books/2012/mar/23/christine-brooke-rose1
Rabaté, Jean-Michel. 2018. “Farewell to Christine Brooke-Rose”. Textual Practice v. 32, n. 2, 193- 199.
https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/epdf/10.1080/0950236X.2018.1412995?needAccess=true
https://doi.org/10.1080/0950236X.2018.1412995
(Edited by Yukiko Maezawa)
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