I had my last (for now) in person “in conversation” bookstore event on March 11th, 2020, also known as the day that Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson announced they had COVID and the NBA shut down. Both of those things happened while I was in the event, talking to an author I love and admire about her new book, feeling a sense of dread and fear begin to take over my body. I started to type up a bunch of details about that time, but none of us need to read that and I don’t even want to think about it—you remember the dread! You remember the fear! We were all there (in dread/fear-filled 2020, not at that event specifically)!
I was at a bookstore and I was scared so I did the only thing I knew how to do: I asked one of my favorite booksellers for a recommendation. “I want to read some really gripping historical fiction,” were the words that came out of my mouth, surprising me because I hadn’t been into historical fiction since childhood, when I inhaled the American Girl and Dear America books. But all of a sudden, I didn’t want to read rom-coms or anything light (side note that this isn’t a blanket dismissal of light books, because I write them and I see the value in them and I would really like for you to keep buying them, thanks!).
Luckily, the bookseller recommended a really wonderful, absolutely distracting book* on what would be my last trip into a bookstore for months. And as the pandemic wore on, and continues to wear on, my reading and viewing tastes continued to be markedly different from the Kerry of 2019. I craved things that gave me perspective, that reminded me that our country and our world had been though other crises, other pandemics, and come out on the other side. I wanted reassurance that the world was not, in fact, ending, despite the constant doom-filled headlines and panicked tweets. I wanted to read about national or global tragedies, about people who’d been through horrific experiences and lived through them. It felt like I could learn something from The Best Years of Our Lives, the 1946 drama about soldiers assimilating back into American life after enduring the trauma of combat, or Wings of Hope, the Werner Herzog documentary about Juliane Koepcke, a woman who survived a plane crash and walked through the jungle for ten days before being rescued. It might seem like watching people endure stress and hardship would be more stressful, but it wasn’t. In every instance, life went on. Of course it did; I was here watching the movie, after all. No matter what atrocities people faced in world wars or personal tragedies, the world kept on moving. It was strangely comforting.
One of the biggest ways I accidentally found perspective was by stumbling across my new favorite genre of books/movies/entertainment in general, which I will creatively call “stuff about old people.” At one point last year, I ended up coincidentally watching a moving documentary about an elderly person, reading a bestselling book about a grumpy old man, and listening to a podcast specifically about people over seventy. What I realized was that these things hit me in a way that stuff about younger people often doesn’t, which is especially noticeable because so much of our entertainment is about the young—people in their twenties or often even their teens. And that isn’t to say that young people can’t make thoughtful music or that television shows about teenagers can’t be entertaining…but when I noticed what I was getting out of the movies, books, and podcasts about older people, the perspective the older people had was glaring.
I don’t want to fall into the trap of being like, “Old people! Precious!!!” that inspirational instagram accounts or saccharine movies sometimes do (and sometimes I love those saccharine movies, and sometimes a random old bearded man really IS Santa Claus…we just don’t know). I was, and am, especially drawn to works that show the elderly as people. Complex people, who have lived long lives and are continuing to live them, who are not always all good or all bad. They’re not “cute” or there for us to humor or only good for surprising everyone by rapping at a wedding or using some shocking profanity (sorry, that’s another movie cliche). It’s interesting and helpful and just plain thought-provoking to see or hear the perspective of people who’ve experienced wars, tragedies, deaths, divorces, or all the other things that so many people go through in their lives. They’re not panicking every time they encounter a new crisis, because they’ve been through this before. But neither are they downplaying it! If anything, older people understand that there is no avoiding pain, sadness, or loss. There’s only surviving it.
Maybe part of my pull toward “stuff about old people” is that my own grandmother died in mid-2020 after losing so much of herself to dementia, and maybe part of it is that I grew up on a street full of retired people and spent my afternoons hanging out with our widowed neighbor. I miss the influence of old people in my life, and I don’t know that there’s a “normal” way to be like, “hey, any old people wanna be my friend?” Maybe there’s a way to do this when we’re not still in the midst of a pandemic that puts the elderly at the highest risk. I don’t know. Regardless, I’d love to share with you one documentary, one book, and one podcast I highly recommend if you, too, are looking for some perspective.
A MAN CALLED OVE (Book; author Fredrik Backman)
Y’all heard of this underrated book? I kid, I kid. I know this was the biggest book around, like, ten years ago, but I bought it at a library book sale in 2019 and then let it sit on my bookshelf for two years. I still have no idea why I decided to pick it up this summer, but I truly believe that sometimes things just find their way into our lives at the right time. I’m sorry to keep being like, “I believe that God tells me what to read or that I should watch the Harrison Ford movie Witness,” but it’s comforting to me to think that there’s some divine force out there picking books for me because sometimes I’m tired of making all my own decisions. ANYWAY. I had absolutely no idea what this book was about, but it turns out it’s a simple “grumpy old person realizes how to accept the love that is all around them” plot, which is absolutely one of my favorites. And it’s really my favorite during an isolating pandemic in which I, personally, have BECOME a grumpy old person who needs to accept the love that is (hopefully?) all around me. A Man Called Ove is as readable and moving as you might expect from a massive bestseller. This is one of those empathy building books that reminds you that everyone you come across, even people who are kind of assholes, have their own hidden lives and complex pasts and loves and losses you don’t even know about. The “grumpy old person” plot may be overdone, but there’s a reason why people (me…I’m people) like it so much. It’s a reminder that everyone we encounter is a broken, flawed human being, and it’s never been more apparent how broken we all are than right now. I don’t mean to give you some vaguely inspirational quote about the importance of kindness, but I do love books that make me think about the importance of kindness! Sorry! I’m a suburban mom and I’m basic!
Also, Ove’s ability to fix things kind of made me think, “Hmm, I should learn to fix more things.” Something about reading books about old people makes me realize I should learn to mend my own socks.
NOBODY’S BUSINESS (Film; dir. Alan Berliner)
If you want to know the kind of trouble I get into when left to my own devices, you should know that I spent May going on what I referred to as a “Berliner Bender” which entailed me watching the documentaries of filmmaker Alan Berliner while they were on the Criterion Channel. What can I say, I know how to party. Nobody’s Business, about Alan’s father Oscar, was my favorite. The movie is essentially just Alan Berliner asking his father questions while his father shouts “WHO CARES!” and threatens to stop filming. Alan also interviews his mother (his parents are divorced) and his sister, and through all these interviews the viewer is able to piece together Oscar Berliner’s ordinary life, which of course becomes extraordinary in its specificity. Nobody’s Business is astounding, I think, in the way it shows the whole of a man’s life. Oscar Berliner isn’t all good or all bad—he’s constantly yelling at Alan and demeaning his choice of profession, yet he openly admits that he loves his children and was affectionate with them in a way his father never was with him. This is also a film that really illuminates just how lonely aging can be. There are a lot of bad and poorly made documentaries out there right now (I’m looking at you, HBO documentaries about celebrities), and it felt revelatory to watch this strange old one that was just about…a guy! No drama, no shocking revelations, just the reminder that everyone’s life is big and important and lovely and heartbreaking. I cried at this one and I think about it all the time.
70 OVER 70 (podcast; hosted by Max Linsky)
I’m so sorry that I’ve told you about three things that made me cry, but I must speak my truth (which is that I cry at most media). The entire premise of 70 OVER 70 is that the host, Max Linksy, speaks with people who are 70 or older. The beginning of each episode features a short anecdote from an older person who isn’t famous (sometimes they’re funny, but a few weeks ago one made me absolutely sob in the car), while the bulk of the episode is about an older person whose name you probably know. The interviewees really run the gamut: Anthony Fauci! Maira Kalman! Judith Light! Nikki Giovanni! Norman Lear! Dionne Warwick! RAFFI!! Max Linksky is a great interviewer because he doesn’t just focus on things the subjects did in the past, because their lives aren’t over! They’re still living them and still doing things, and it’s such a good reminder that our lives keep going as long as we’re lucky enough to keep waking up. I don’t have too many hangups about aging, but we live in a youth-obsessed culture and sometimes it’s hard not to be like, “why don’t I have the smooth, line-free face of a 22 year old using an Instagram filter?” But every time I listen to this podcast, I realize that the majority of things I’m worrying about just do not matter. Pretty much everyone on this show gets right to the point with zero bullshit and it’s incredibly refreshing. They’re all honest and thoughtful and truly thought-provoking. My favorite episode so far has probably been the one with Sister Helen Prejean but, warning, it might make you think long and hard about what you’re doing with your life. Oh, and also I loved the one with Anthony Fauci. Did you know he power walks for an hour a day? Honestly, I’ve learned a lot about the importance of continued physical fitness from 70 Over 70.
Although I watched it earlier this year and not during my “stuff about old people” binge of this summer, I also really appreciated the Steven Soderbergh film Let Them All Talk. Three older women who look like real people and have careers and lives and problems? Not to mention they’re played by three actresses doing some of their best work decades into their career? That’s all I want in a movie. For some reason, Let Them All Talk didn’t get a lot of attention (and no Oscar nomination for Candice Bergen…a travesty), but I would highly highly recommend it. So many movies about older women are either depressing or mocking the women in question, but this movie is smart and funny and always treats its characters with respect.
This week’s homework: watch, read, or listen to something about people over 70! For sheer ease of accessibility, I recommend listening to an episode of 70 Over 70. Also, I’d love to hear your favorite entertainment about older people. Specifically, what are your favorite books about crotchety older people who learn how to accept love? I know there are so many out there, but I’d love your recommendations, either here or on Instagram.
I was kind of all over the place this week (sorry but also this is a free newsletter), so next week maybe I can return to my “one movie” format. Until then, remember that aging is a gift, wrinkles are fine, and we should all power walk for an hour a day.
*The book I read was The Accidentals by Minrose Gwin and I have never in my life read a book anything like this one. It has a cover with women wearing hats on a beach, so I had certain expectations. Instead, it opens with a botched back-alley abortion, goes right into a scene where birds get pecked to death, and only gets more intense from there! If I told you everything that happened in this book, you wouldn’t believe me. It’s bonkers and upsetting but absolutely captivating. I think about certain scenes from it constantly. If you’ve read it or if you decide to read it, please let me know so we can talk about it! Thank you to Kim at Joseph-Beth, who actually recommended a different Minrose Gwin book that was out of stock that I still haven’t read.