by Tove Jansson (1974)
2025 reads, 13/25:
“I don't believe, she thought seriously, I don't believe there are so many things left to be afraid of. Nebraska, maybe, and confidences and certain kinds of music, but not death.”
In Sun City, the March pick for the 2025 New York Review Books book club, Jansson perfectly encapsulates what we all already subconsciously know about retirement homes and the interactions between their residents. Based on a trip she took through America in the 1970s, the blistering (yet comforting) Florida sun sets the stage for Berkley Arms, a retirement home in St. Petersburg. If you have someone in your life in their golden years (whether in a retirement community or not), you can easily relate to how the Jansson captures the mannerisms and conformity of the elderly.
Like most NYRB authors, I have not heard of Jansson before, but you've likely heard of her series of children's books, the Moomins. She doesn't have many adult novels (around five, compared to her countless Moomin novels and picture books), and I'm not sure why, as Sun City was a delight to read. Since her other adult novels seem to have elderly main characters, she's seemingly interested in the bookends of our lives; from childlike wonder to senior wistfulness.
But back to Sun City - the residents of Berkeley Arms, at the beginning of the book, kind of blend together. It was hard to tell them all apart from one another – Rebecca Rubenstein, Elizabeth Morris, Evelyn Peabody, Catherine Frey, to name a few. But Jansson throws us into the "action" (for lack of a better word), and through the dialogue and eccentricities of this community and their caregivers, we see the melodramatic tales and heartwarming moments intertwined.
To move your rocking chair is an unforgivable insult in St. Petersburg. The new arrival had no idea how important the rocking chairs were. Gradually you learned the unspoken rules of the house and followed them strictly. Only death could move the rocking chairs in St. Petersburg.
On the surface, it seems like the biggest worry of the residents of Berkeley Arms residents is who sits on what rocking chair. Heaven forbid one of them gets moved. But a closer look reveals many of the same problems we all have today: anxieties, fears, and beliefs, passed down from one generation to another. One of the best side plots (not even sure if you could call this a "plot") was Rebecca Rubenstein's unsent letters to her son. We got to understand her true feelings through these letters, and more somberly, the underlying sadness inherent in the act of choosing to rip them up, throw them in the fireplace, rather than candidly speak her mind.
It's a book that makes you reexamine not just the elderly, but your relationship with them. The two main attendants, "Bounty Joe" and Linda, are two sides of the same coin, both in their own ways juxtaposing the antics of the elderly: Bounty Joe, with his abrasive outer surface but mutual respect, and Linda, with her soft demeanor and childlike wonder. I'm glad NYRB exposed me to this, and if you've never read a book with an elderly main chracter - maybe pick this one up.
This gentle, leisurely old age was perhaps the reward they felt they deserved after a life of unceasing change, constant upheaval, continual new people pushing into their lives though never getting close to them.