As always, I find your blog inspirational and thought provoking. This will float around in my brain rent free this week as I tend to requirements and responsibilities, but it will be a welcome renter.
Anne, your essay gave me so much food for thought, and as I was thinking about how to respond, I scrolled through the comments of your community (our community), which gave me even more food for thought. My head is practically spinning with all the wonderful rabbit holes I now have to run down. Thank you.
Anne, Louise Bourgeois will lead you down a most enthralling rabbit hole. If Substack let us post photos, I'd show you one of her paintings, inspired by a hard childhood. In this video, she performs her father's dinner table trick with a tangerine. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M2mx1gZqh1E
There's also a Louise Bourgeois spider beside the National Gallery in Ottawa. Seems her spiders are everywhere!
Thanks to whoever mentioned Ali Smith's seasonal quartet. I do love her writing and she often includes a female artist in her fiction. I hadn't known Hepworth prior to that and now want to visit Cornwall to see her house and the Tate there, not to mention the house from Virginia Woolf's To the Lighthouse. Somehow the place seems a magnet for women. The British surrealist Ithell Colquhoun, who I recently learned about, also lived there.
Also the Canadian artist about whom Susan Vreeland wrote a beautiful novel. Read it years ago and saw something about her in St. Ives when I was there.
Thanks, Anne! I didn't know about Vreeland's novel and I just love Emily Carr. Two years ago, I visited her house and grave in Victoria, BC. Her paintings of trees are so alive they almost breathe.
Like Georgia O'Keeffe, Carr is not associated with a male artist, although Stiglitz is often said to have "discovered" O'Keeffe. Carr is sometimes mentioned with the all male Canadian Group of Seven, but truthfully, she was an original. There's even a statue of her with her monkey and dog in front of the BC parliament.
Your posts always give me food for thought. Happy to be reminded of my visit to the Edinburgh Writers Festival during my senior gap year in the UK. Do they still have the Speigel tent?
'Expander' reads for me
were Doris Lessing's Martha Quest series, Simone de Beauvoir 'The Mandarins' and more recently and directly influential 'Without Reservations' by Alice Steinbeck (a mature woman's 'Eat, Pray, Love'
Thanks for this; it was a pleasure to read. One thing that really struck me, when Celia Paul's most recent book came out and there was quite a bit of writing about it and her, was a mention by one of the reviewers (I think it was) that it was reflexively assumed that because Paul is younger than Freud, and had been his student, that he was an influence on her, whereas it was clear from looking at their respective art that it was rather more the reverse, as shown in a particular set of paintings by each of them.
Something about the list of artists in this makes me wonder, have you read Ali Smith's Seasons cycle of novels? If not, I think that you'd enjoy them. Hepworth is important to them. She (Hepworth) was friends, incidentally, with Dag Hammarsköld, including during his time at the UN.
I don't remember which of the four novels centers on her, but all of them are worth reading. Smith has an amazing sense of language. This makes me want to reread the four books and see how one reacts on a second time around! Even though it's only been a few years since they came out, I remember the language more than the contents, unusually.
I'm deep into Caroline Moorehead's biography of Martha Gellhorn after listening to Gellhorn's remarkable letters. I love intrepid women. Solitude costs but seems necessary to the payoff. Sissies need not apply.
I have been fascinated with death and dying ever since I had a good friend, then age 30, dying of AIDS in the 1990s - what a horrific time that was, with so many young men (and women) dying. I wrote a book based on passages from interviews with people with AIDS attending an international conference in London. When he died, I worked as a volunteer in a hospice for four years and found that so fascinating that I wrote a book based on passages from interviews with hospice staff. Titles of both books can be found on my Substack if you are interested. Now I am old, I think often about my own mortality and that of my husband; indeed, only today we discussed over lunch how well we would cope (or not) in the event of the other one's death - we are 84 and 82 and have been married 61 years, hard as that is for me (or anyone else) to believe. Keep up the good work.
No, actually not difficult at all. If you're close, but also reflective and full of curiosity, it is part of life's rich tapestry. You know it's going to happen to one or the other, most probably within 5-10 years, so it's completely natural to explore the issues even when neither of us has a fatal disease. And funnily enough, it's somewhat comforting to consider the issue together. Part of preparation, I think.
(You don't need to respond to this, but I just wanted to pass on the information to a reflective younger person.)
Oh my goodness. Ann -- your wisdom and the acceptance with which you write about your mortality and that of your husband. This. This is what I hope to emulate as I move into the third stage of life. Thank you.
I haven't asked friends with long marriages what they do, but it seems completely natural to me. I do have a friend whose wife died of lung cancer, who said they had discussed these issues and agreed that they should wait two weeks before looking for a new partner. He told me this with a smile, but I can imagine the conversation easily (he had found one two years later). It's the sort of thing we would say to each other, too – and sort-of mean it although we know how impossible it would be to replace each other. Some people would say 'aren't you horrified at the idea of being forgotten?' and I would answer i) I want my husband to have a happy end to his life, however he can find it and ii) You don't forget a person who you have lived with for 60+ years. I have written a lot about dying on my website (but not yet this issue) on my Substack if you wish to follow through.
I was considering how it might feel to read this from the outside. I don't know anything whatsoever about your past or present relationships, but having a long marriage, if it is good, is like having an old friend. I'm sure you could talk about just about anything to an old friend.
(It's funny how we have conversations in our heads with some writers on Substack. It's different from reading something in a newspaper or the New Yorker because you know you CAN converse with them and you know a little bit about them.)
Apologies if I am overdoing it, but if I have a thought that I find interesting to me, I assume it will be interesting to other reflective people.
Thank you, Ann. I find it lovely and beautiful that a marriage can continue to enrich your life over so many decades. I wish my marriage had done that for me, but after 20 years, I had to accept that it was doing the opposite. (Leaving was part of the big life transformation I’ve been through, although I haven’t talked much about that here.) It’s been a few years now, and I’m 56, and having passion in my life is super important, and old friends. It’s a work in progress, and I expect it always will be.
I decided NOT to respond to your question about morning routines, as there are essentially a small number of possible answers and you have doubtless seen all of them. I DID want to say that I know it is not that usual to have a long and happy marriage, but I do know a few people in a similar situation so it is possible. And, indeed, possible to find the right person much later in life - probably more possible, as young people don’t have a clue and we certainly didn’t.
Indeed, it started a bit rocky (two bright people each doing an MA at the age of 21/22 is not the recipe for an easy relationship and truth be told, I might have ended it at one point, only I didn’t want to prove my mother right!). But we do have a lot of key things in common, including a great sense of fun, a real intellectual curiosity about the world, the placing of great importance on both physical and other forms of intimacy and a reflective personality. Husband was an academic economist and I was a social researcher in our previous lives. And as for children, you might enjoy my latest post (The Longest Night) which tells you quite a lot.
You sound like a similarly reflective person and if you ever find yourself in London with a spare hour or two, I would be pleased to meet.
Thank you for all of this Ann. My husband and I will be married 25 years next month (we're both 52). It's incredibly encouraging for me to hear about your long relationship and your discussions of death. I can see my partner and I having similar discussions at some point, which feels incredibly hopeful (perhaps, ironically).
I would add, Emily, that if you have been married 25 years, your prognosis for the marriage in the rest of your lives is probably pretty good. I haven't found the last 25 (oops, 36) years to be remarkably different than the 25th year, although the first few years were a bit rocky (not helped by the fact that in the first year of marriage, we were both graduate students under pressure.) Just keep having fun together and listening to each other (and, if I dare say it) sex. Have you read Just Keep Going? https://arichardson.substack.com/p/just-keep-going
I am pleased to hear that, Emily. I have always called things as I see them. I never felt there were many people listening until getting here on Substack where some people do confirm that my words are helpful. There are many disadvantages of being in your 80s but I like having my voice heard. (And actually I love being old as you will know if you read my Substack or, indeed, my book of the same title.)
I really, really needed to read the Kay Boyle poem, Anne. Thanks for sharing it this week. I find myself dwelling on the past so often rather than enjoying the beauty of the present. Great reminder.
What a thoughtful post. I am faced this week with the sudden terminal deterioration of a very dear friend with leukaemia. The Louise Bourgeois quote touched me deeply. He will die with family around him, but will nonetheless be alone in unconsciousness. I am remembering the love and trust we had between us. It is comforting for me. This particular part of your post was timely. Thank you.
As always, I find your blog inspirational and thought provoking. This will float around in my brain rent free this week as I tend to requirements and responsibilities, but it will be a welcome renter.
I found Octavia Bright’s memoir, ‘This ragged Grace’ really interesting for her engagement with Bourgeois
There's another iconic spider by Louise Bourgeois outside the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao. Just saw there in August this year!
Anne, you've just given me a great list of people and books to explore. thank you!
All well said.
Anne, your essay gave me so much food for thought, and as I was thinking about how to respond, I scrolled through the comments of your community (our community), which gave me even more food for thought. My head is practically spinning with all the wonderful rabbit holes I now have to run down. Thank you.
Completely, agree, Kaarin.
Exactly! I feel that way every week. :)
Anne, Louise Bourgeois will lead you down a most enthralling rabbit hole. If Substack let us post photos, I'd show you one of her paintings, inspired by a hard childhood. In this video, she performs her father's dinner table trick with a tangerine. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M2mx1gZqh1E
Thank you, Rona. It's a great little video linking to others. Bourgeois was such an intense artist. I knew nothing about her.
There's also a Louise Bourgeois spider beside the National Gallery in Ottawa. Seems her spiders are everywhere!
Thanks to whoever mentioned Ali Smith's seasonal quartet. I do love her writing and she often includes a female artist in her fiction. I hadn't known Hepworth prior to that and now want to visit Cornwall to see her house and the Tate there, not to mention the house from Virginia Woolf's To the Lighthouse. Somehow the place seems a magnet for women. The British surrealist Ithell Colquhoun, who I recently learned about, also lived there.
Also the Canadian artist about whom Susan Vreeland wrote a beautiful novel. Read it years ago and saw something about her in St. Ives when I was there.
The Forest Lover it was called
Thank you Anne.
Thanks, Anne! I didn't know about Vreeland's novel and I just love Emily Carr. Two years ago, I visited her house and grave in Victoria, BC. Her paintings of trees are so alive they almost breathe.
Like Georgia O'Keeffe, Carr is not associated with a male artist, although Stiglitz is often said to have "discovered" O'Keeffe. Carr is sometimes mentioned with the all male Canadian Group of Seven, but truthfully, she was an original. There's even a statue of her with her monkey and dog in front of the BC parliament.
Love Emily Carr and have also visited her home. I read her autobiography ages ago. Now am thinking I need to dig out!
Such a lovely collection of new books and artists to explore this next month. Thank you!
Good morning Anne,
Your posts always give me food for thought. Happy to be reminded of my visit to the Edinburgh Writers Festival during my senior gap year in the UK. Do they still have the Speigel tent?
'Expander' reads for me
were Doris Lessing's Martha Quest series, Simone de Beauvoir 'The Mandarins' and more recently and directly influential 'Without Reservations' by Alice Steinbeck (a mature woman's 'Eat, Pray, Love'
Thanks for the suggestion to read Alice Steinbeck's "Without Reservations." I need a mature woman's 'Eat, Pray, Love.'
Yes, they do still have the Spiegel Tent! We saw a couple of panels in there. Love your "expanders"! "The Second Sex" was a big one for me.
Thanks for this; it was a pleasure to read. One thing that really struck me, when Celia Paul's most recent book came out and there was quite a bit of writing about it and her, was a mention by one of the reviewers (I think it was) that it was reflexively assumed that because Paul is younger than Freud, and had been his student, that he was an influence on her, whereas it was clear from looking at their respective art that it was rather more the reverse, as shown in a particular set of paintings by each of them.
Something about the list of artists in this makes me wonder, have you read Ali Smith's Seasons cycle of novels? If not, I think that you'd enjoy them. Hepworth is important to them. She (Hepworth) was friends, incidentally, with Dag Hammarsköld, including during his time at the UN.
I don't remember which of the four novels centers on her, but all of them are worth reading. Smith has an amazing sense of language. This makes me want to reread the four books and see how one reacts on a second time around! Even though it's only been a few years since they came out, I remember the language more than the contents, unusually.
(The books each highlight a particular artist or writer, incidentally.)
Cool. 😎
Thank you for this! I didn’t know Hepworth influenced Ali Smith’s season cycle book. I’ve always wanted to read those. More reason to!
Boyle's poem is pertinent for me now.
I'll try to abide. Ha.
I'm deep into Caroline Moorehead's biography of Martha Gellhorn after listening to Gellhorn's remarkable letters. I love intrepid women. Solitude costs but seems necessary to the payoff. Sissies need not apply.
Martha Gellhorn...yes! A woman of substance and courage.
Oh, me too. I love Martha Gellhorn and enjoyed Moorehead’s bio. I’d love to read (or hear) the letters!
I have been fascinated with death and dying ever since I had a good friend, then age 30, dying of AIDS in the 1990s - what a horrific time that was, with so many young men (and women) dying. I wrote a book based on passages from interviews with people with AIDS attending an international conference in London. When he died, I worked as a volunteer in a hospice for four years and found that so fascinating that I wrote a book based on passages from interviews with hospice staff. Titles of both books can be found on my Substack if you are interested. Now I am old, I think often about my own mortality and that of my husband; indeed, only today we discussed over lunch how well we would cope (or not) in the event of the other one's death - we are 84 and 82 and have been married 61 years, hard as that is for me (or anyone else) to believe. Keep up the good work.
Thank you, Ann! Must be a hard conversation to have. But necessary. Thanks for sharing about your books.
No, actually not difficult at all. If you're close, but also reflective and full of curiosity, it is part of life's rich tapestry. You know it's going to happen to one or the other, most probably within 5-10 years, so it's completely natural to explore the issues even when neither of us has a fatal disease. And funnily enough, it's somewhat comforting to consider the issue together. Part of preparation, I think.
(You don't need to respond to this, but I just wanted to pass on the information to a reflective younger person.)
Oh my goodness. Ann -- your wisdom and the acceptance with which you write about your mortality and that of your husband. This. This is what I hope to emulate as I move into the third stage of life. Thank you.
I haven't asked friends with long marriages what they do, but it seems completely natural to me. I do have a friend whose wife died of lung cancer, who said they had discussed these issues and agreed that they should wait two weeks before looking for a new partner. He told me this with a smile, but I can imagine the conversation easily (he had found one two years later). It's the sort of thing we would say to each other, too – and sort-of mean it although we know how impossible it would be to replace each other. Some people would say 'aren't you horrified at the idea of being forgotten?' and I would answer i) I want my husband to have a happy end to his life, however he can find it and ii) You don't forget a person who you have lived with for 60+ years. I have written a lot about dying on my website (but not yet this issue) on my Substack if you wish to follow through.
Thank you, Ann! It’s good to hear this.
I was considering how it might feel to read this from the outside. I don't know anything whatsoever about your past or present relationships, but having a long marriage, if it is good, is like having an old friend. I'm sure you could talk about just about anything to an old friend.
(It's funny how we have conversations in our heads with some writers on Substack. It's different from reading something in a newspaper or the New Yorker because you know you CAN converse with them and you know a little bit about them.)
Apologies if I am overdoing it, but if I have a thought that I find interesting to me, I assume it will be interesting to other reflective people.
Thank you, Ann. I find it lovely and beautiful that a marriage can continue to enrich your life over so many decades. I wish my marriage had done that for me, but after 20 years, I had to accept that it was doing the opposite. (Leaving was part of the big life transformation I’ve been through, although I haven’t talked much about that here.) It’s been a few years now, and I’m 56, and having passion in my life is super important, and old friends. It’s a work in progress, and I expect it always will be.
I decided NOT to respond to your question about morning routines, as there are essentially a small number of possible answers and you have doubtless seen all of them. I DID want to say that I know it is not that usual to have a long and happy marriage, but I do know a few people in a similar situation so it is possible. And, indeed, possible to find the right person much later in life - probably more possible, as young people don’t have a clue and we certainly didn’t.
Indeed, it started a bit rocky (two bright people each doing an MA at the age of 21/22 is not the recipe for an easy relationship and truth be told, I might have ended it at one point, only I didn’t want to prove my mother right!). But we do have a lot of key things in common, including a great sense of fun, a real intellectual curiosity about the world, the placing of great importance on both physical and other forms of intimacy and a reflective personality. Husband was an academic economist and I was a social researcher in our previous lives. And as for children, you might enjoy my latest post (The Longest Night) which tells you quite a lot.
You sound like a similarly reflective person and if you ever find yourself in London with a spare hour or two, I would be pleased to meet.
I will reply in due course.
Thank you for all of this Ann. My husband and I will be married 25 years next month (we're both 52). It's incredibly encouraging for me to hear about your long relationship and your discussions of death. I can see my partner and I having similar discussions at some point, which feels incredibly hopeful (perhaps, ironically).
I would add, Emily, that if you have been married 25 years, your prognosis for the marriage in the rest of your lives is probably pretty good. I haven't found the last 25 (oops, 36) years to be remarkably different than the 25th year, although the first few years were a bit rocky (not helped by the fact that in the first year of marriage, we were both graduate students under pressure.) Just keep having fun together and listening to each other (and, if I dare say it) sex. Have you read Just Keep Going? https://arichardson.substack.com/p/just-keep-going
I am pleased to hear that, Emily. I have always called things as I see them. I never felt there were many people listening until getting here on Substack where some people do confirm that my words are helpful. There are many disadvantages of being in your 80s but I like having my voice heard. (And actually I love being old as you will know if you read my Substack or, indeed, my book of the same title.)
So moving and so beautiful to read this and my heartfelt thanks
Thank you, Aline!
I really, really needed to read the Kay Boyle poem, Anne. Thanks for sharing it this week. I find myself dwelling on the past so often rather than enjoying the beauty of the present. Great reminder.
What a thoughtful post. I am faced this week with the sudden terminal deterioration of a very dear friend with leukaemia. The Louise Bourgeois quote touched me deeply. He will die with family around him, but will nonetheless be alone in unconsciousness. I am remembering the love and trust we had between us. It is comforting for me. This particular part of your post was timely. Thank you.
I’m so glad, June! My thoughts go out to you and your friend.
Thank you. I’m very sad.