“What followed, until I met Barry Reckord in my forty-fourth year, was a series of sometimes very brief, sometimes sustained affairs, always amiable (two of them very much so), almost always cheering-up (two of the tiny ones I could have done without), and none of them going deep enough to hurt. During those years, if a man wanted to marry me, as three of them did, I felt what Groucho Marx felt about a club willing to accept him: disdain. ”
Some people only see the non-'literary' side of Diana Athill's writing, merely because she is an 'editor' (but an independent female editor of the 20th century at that). I, however, find this style of essay writing and contemplation stemming from genuine life experiences to be incredibly valuable. Athill represents a woman who achieves self-actualization and deep-seated acceptance of herself through life practice, attaining a harmonious fulfillment in both the spiritual and worldly sense, rather than relying on theoretical ideologies or doctrines.
The book Somewhere Towards the End attracted me as I saw a reflection of my ideal self in its synopsis - a knowledgeable woman, writing in her near 90s, who chose to remain single and childless, embracing atheism, balancing romanticism with rationality. I used to assume that such a choice, to have a pleasant conclusion in old age, must be built upon a solid and affluent economic foundation, a kind of freedom and intellectual independence attainable only with substantial capital. I frequently wavered in my choice of freedom due to fear and anxiety, often questioning with friends whether I should compromise with convention.
What I find most admirable and inspiring is that her life was actually simple and humble, never even owning her own house in her lifetime. This compelled me to explore what such a life's end and later years would look like a concern I've pondered more than once about my own life). I found no self-pity, emptiness, sentimentality, or worry, but rather peace, deep self-satisfaction, and genuine equanimity thought her writing.
The endpoint and conclusion of female independence (unmarried, childless, successful in career) isn't as glorious or everlasting as many might expect. Most who champion feminism are subconsciously predicated on the notion, "As long as I don't live with a man, don't depend on a man," my life will be better. This perspective is still comparative, based on something related to men.
In my view, the topic of "self" is always more worthy of discussion, thought, and attention than feminism. It carries more significance, strikes at the essence of humanity, and transcends gender.
Living such a self-oriented life can easily lead to issues of selfishness, and I was pleasantly surprised to read her open acknowledgment and discussion of this point. In fact, she cared for the elderly and her lovers in a more selfless manner than those bound by duties and obligations. Her ultimate answer was "no regrets," a question I often ask myself when reflecting on my life choices: have I ever regretted any decisions about my life direction? I'm pleased that to this day, my answer remains "no regrets."
This is a beautiful example of the ideology of being single. Although she considers herself lucky (perhaps due to a nurturing family environment, educational opportunities, good health, or in comparison to the less fortunate), I believe that 80% of misfortune actually stems from our own mindset. Because you always think, "Why am I so unlucky today?" when, in reality, you are breathing and it is a beautiful, sunny day.
Lastly, here, I'd like to recommend a film: 'Good Luck to You, Leo Grande'.
