Rarely do I pause while reading a novel and think, “I can’t wait to finish this so that I can read it again.” But that’s what happened while I strolled the streets of Manhattan on New Year’s Eve, 1984, while reading Lillian Boxfish Takes a Walk.
In reality, by the date Lillian set out on her walking tour I was no longer in New York. In early 1982 I had moved with my then-husband and baby twins to Northern California. But Lillian’s flashbacks in the book by Kathleen Rooney span my six years in the city and decades more.
Here’s the premise: A woman in her eighties who was once a celebrated advertising writer and poet walks the streets of Manhattan on New Year’s Eve. She encounters her own memories of fifty years in the city, along with various new adventures, mostly with people she had never met before that night.
What makes this book spectacular is the narrator’s voice. At times rueful, at times playful, sometimes verging on cynical and always vulnerable, Lillian does not spare herself the most difficult stories. Her times of weakness are fully on display along with her triumphs. And the inexorable passage of time, too: Copies of her poetry books that once brought her fame sit in bargain bins outside the Strand Bookstore. The ghost of the old Penn Station waits in the shadows of the newer “monstrosity.” But by the end of the book, Lillian has come to terms with the toughest moments in her life and with her own mortality.
So why am I pitching this novel in my newsletter, besides the fact that the papers of the real ad woman on whom this book is based turn out to be housed in a university library just a few miles from me in Chapel Hill, North Carolina (of all places)? Because I was just about to lead a nationwide book group in a discussion of this fabulous novel when the sponsoring organization, Secure Senior Connections, ran out of money and closed its doors. I’m telling you about this novel because it’s wonderful and I need to tell someone. Lilian is probably at your local library, just waiting for you to walk with her.
Secure Senior Connections offered all kinds of classes, besides the writing classes I taught. The organization had thirty thousand members and was funded by the health insurance industry, because research shows that folks over 65 who are more engaged socially and creatively have lower health care costs. This is right in line with Becca Levy’s findings that people with a more positive approach to aging live longer, healthier lives. So why did SSC fail? Was it lack of outreach? I really believe millions more people would have enjoyed and benefitted. Or was it some other reason? I may never know, but I so much enjoyed teaching there, and hope other organizations like it will spring up and be more successful. We olders could use more places to engage positively with others.
Meanwhile, I’ve been busy editing my upcoming novel, Vampires of a Certain Age. It’s a romance about Marion Chase, a healer in medieval Yorkshire. Falsely accused of witchcraft after falling in love with her childhood friend Cecily, she is ostracized by the Church and by her fellow villagers. Rescued by a vampire and now immortal, Marion joins a sanctuary in York dedicated to virtuous living for vampires. Centuries and many adventures later, Marion finds her true calling as president of a Chicago blood bank, providing ethically sourced blood to Midwestern vampires. There she falls in love with the one person who can destroy her: Rachel Sutter, an FDA agent and the living likeness of Marion’s medieval lover.
This month I received feedback from more than a dozen dedicated Beta readers, who pointed out inconsistencies in the novel, asked for more character information, and let me know just where I needed to edit. I am so grateful to have their feedback and have worked hard to incorporate it. And if you’ve read my blogs or taken my classes about creative editing, don’t let my upbeat tone fool you: Editing is hard work, no matter how fun you try to make it.
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