Books: “Killing Time” by Alan Bennett
Alan Bennett (“The History Boys”) has always taken a puckish sharp-stick-in the-eye in his work. “Killing Time,” his latest novel (more like a novelette) adapts a similar approach to a serious subject: life in a nursing home.
Set in the late 2010s, the novel takes place in what the Brits calls a “care center.” Its name is Hill Topp (“spelled with two P’s”, an operator haughtily tells callers). And as you would expect, the residents exhibit behavioral traits common to elders—most notably forgetfulness and pettiness. (“She pinched my jewelry!” is not an uncommon complaint.)
Topp regards itself as a bit posh: residents sing in choirs (when they can find enough participants), have Norwegian-Night dinners, and go on outings to a farm where one woman brags they see a flamingo. “Just one?” a newcomer asks.
Long-time resident Mr. Woodruff boasts of his military service at Dunkirk (where he never was) to anyone who will listen. He also exposes his bits and bobs to female residents as he thinks it will help their hearts beat faster. Another woman collects cosmetics from those who’ve died, while Gus the gardener renders sexual services to both women and Mr. Dalrymple, the male hairdresser. The only thing the residents have to fear is running out of money, in which case they may be transferred to Low Moor, an inferior care center down the hill.
What sets the residents off even more is Covid, which despite everyone forming into bubbles—“Where do I find these bubbles?”someone asks innocently–manages to kill off just about everybody. What the dearly departed leave behind isn’t much; they mostly include faded family photos and in one case, an autograph from Vyacheslav Molotov, Prime Minister of the Soviet Union during WW II.
Strange? A little. Funny? Yes. At age 90, Bennett has earned the right to say anything he wants, the way he wants. And once again he’s managed to capture the silver lining of an age-old challenge—old age.
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