Is it fiction? A memoir? A combination? The only people who might now (the publisher?) aren't telling. in any case, it's great. Hendrik Groen is - duh - 83 years old. He lives in an assisted living facility that, despite being in the heart of Amsterdam, embodies every complaint I ever heard either In my great-grandfather or my husband's grandparents make about their facilities, long-time denizens all. First, the old people. It does not matter that my grandfather was perhaps the oldest resident in his final years - the litany of complaints about "all these old people" was never ending. And truly, the petty behavior of other residents ("the pineapple pickers," so named for their selective raids on the fruit salad were my grand-father-in-law's most frequent target) and disputes with management over a twenty cent raise in a cup of coffee are also a regular feature of assisted living life, both on paper and IRL. But I'm getting a bit ahead of myself.
First, Hendrik Groen. It's a pseudonym, and of the book, released as fiction, he says only that "there's not one sentence that's a lie, but not every word is true." So, in other words, believe what you want. As the title says, the book is his secret diary, in which he records the minutiae of a year, but from the perspective - real or not - of an octogenarian. As such, it's a fairly unique perspective: the value of friendship is central to the book, but the nature, naturally, is a bit different between the very elderly. Death, too, is a constant presence here, and Hendrik and his friends are regularly coming to terms with its approach, as well as with the ailments that so often precede it.
Although the humor is far less pronounced, I was regularly reminded of A Man Called Ove, although I think Hendrik is much more optimistic and much less crotchety than Ove. (His friend, Evert, could give Ove a run for his money, though.)
Five stars.
No comments:
Post a Comment