Book Club: The Final Chapter

The last two chapters of The Social Animal: The Hidden Sources of Love, Character, and Achievement are a beautiful tribute to aging well. They make me want to step back and observe my life—to take stock of all that is good and head into the twilight of life with a deeper sense of what really matters.

On this book club journey, we have followed Harold and Erica through life. Now we walk with them into retirement and old age. Theirs is not your typical journey into the winter of life, I would venture to say. David Brooks is making a point when he tells us of Erica’s decision to embark on a glorious lark after retirement. As Erica pursues her second education—in the arts—Brooks educates us in aging as a developmental period. He debunks the myths of elderly stagnation in personal and spiritual growth.

…more-recent research has shown that seniors are completely capable of learning and growth. The brain is capable of creating new connections, and even new neurons, all through life. While some mental processes—like working memory, the ability to ignore distractions, and the ability to quickly solve math problems—clearly deteriorate, others do not. While many neurons die and many connections between different regions of the brain wither, older people’s brains reorganize to help compensate for the effects of aging…

Brooks uses Erica’s journey to continue his exploration of the unconscious. In a discussion on music, he tells us that our brains delight in confirming our expectations—a continuation of the discussion on limerence in chapter 13. He points to scientific opinions that indicate that the easier it is for our brains to process information, the greater the pleasure it produces. But there is a twist.

But the mind also exists in a state of tension between familiarity and novelty. The brain has evolved to detect constant change, and delights in comprehending the unexpected. So we’re drawn to music that flirts with our expectations and then gently plays jokes on them…Life is change, and the happy life is a series of gently, stimulating, melodic changes.

It is the pursuit to reconcile this tension that keeps us growing—always seeking the perfection felt inside. Erica pursues this elusive resolution through woodworking. Harold finds his in leading sight-seeing tours in various countries. His love of history and teaching marry well in this role. He likes it so much that he and Erica found a tour company. For eight years they lead groups of friends and acquaintances on adventures all over the world.

Brooks makes a subtle point about how gratifying this business is for both Harold and Erica when he refers to the perception of time.

…Three times a year, Erica got to experience intense bursts of learning. When she was on those trips, time would slow down. She’d notice a thousand novel things. It was like feeling the pores of her skin open.

Scientists have indeed identified immersing oneself in a foreign culture as a way to slow the perception of the passing of time. Scripture says God has set eternity in the hearts of men but our bodies are subject to the eeking leak of the years. Harold’s joints begin to deteriorate until he becomes a captive of his own body. Harold spends his final days on the porch of their home in Colorado—overlooking a rich forest of trees and watched over by the icy peaks of the mountains. It might seem a lonely end for our hero . . . if it weren’t for the rich inner life that Brooks describes in Harold.

It was inevitable that we end up here, with Harold breathing his last. Still, I found myself grieving his passing some. Eight weeks we’ve walked together, and I’ve grown fond of this bit of fiction. Brooks triumphs in the depth he gave his characters—even through the removed voice of an omnipotent narrator. And his eulogy for Harold—and thus this book—does not disappoint.

What had been there at the start was there at the end, the tangle of sensations, perceptions, drives, and needs that we call, antiseptically, the unconscious. This tangle was not the lower part of Harold. It was not some secondary feature to be surpassed. It was the core of him—hard to see, impossible to understand—but supreme. Harold had achieved an important thing in his life…Harold saw life as a neverending interpenetration of souls.

May it be so with us. May it be so with me.

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Image by Popupology. Used with permission. Sourced via Flickr. Post by Laura J. Boggess.