Timed impeccably to coincide with Mrs Palfrey’s arrival at the Claremont Hotel in the opening line of the book, I first picked up Mrs Palfrey at the Claremont by Elizabeth Taylor (no, not that one) “on a Sunday afternoon in January”.
It’s a wonderful book and I’m hugely grateful to the friend who sent it my way knowing I’d enjoy it. Mrs Palfrey at the Claremont explores the often sidelined subject of old age through the story of a widow, Mrs Laura Palfrey, who moves into a South Kensington hotel after losing her husband. She’s not alone in having made the Claremont her home, and has to find her place among the other widows and widower in residence.
It’s such a brilliantly balanced novel. There is a lot of humour. Sharp, witty observations aimed at the cast of comic elderly residents and their playground politics: the meek and permanently knitting Mrs Post, the whisky-loving Mrs Burton, the outraged letter-writing (and lover of a loudly whispered rude joke) Mr Osmond and the snarky bully Mrs Arbuthnot:
Mrs Arbuthnot, perhaps because of her arthritis, found it in her nature to be disparaging.
But there is also a heavy weight of pathos in this novel. Shining a light on the loneliness, the frustration at mental and physical limitations and lack of agency, the loss and grief and fear that older people are dealing with. Feelings society perhaps often finds inconvenient and uncomfortable to consider. And feelings which this group of elderly residents implicitly agree to leave unspoken, very much flag-flyers of the stiff-upper-lip generation.
Mrs Post, who can generally be relied upon to be the most biddable member of the group, has a rare (sherry-induced) outburst of emotion and honesty:
‘As one gets older life becomes all take and no give. One relies on other people for the treats and things. It’s like being an infant again.’ Mrs de Salis looked at her in consternation, and Mrs Palfrey with concern. This was not Claremont talk.
Stuck in this life of relentless routine, it’s a chance encounter outside the Claremont that opens up Mrs Palfrey’s ever-shrinking world to a much-needed injection of life. This comes in the form of Ludo, a young writer, who helps her when she falls in the street. Through Ludo, Mrs Palfrey gains renewed purpose, which gently reverberates through the rest of the book.
Mrs Palfrey at the Claremont made me laugh and cry. So cleverly observed and such a quiet, yet probing way to raise questions about (the lack of) sympathy and empathy for the very situation of life the majority of us will one day find ourselves in. Creating interest in those society has become uninterested in—and on this subject the last line of the book is devastating.
There are obviously any number of books featuring older protagonists, but part of the genius of this book lies very much in the setting of the Claremont itself. Providing the small, insular world the characters are operating within. And more than that, a world that is new and different (with new people and new rules) from the one those characters previously inhabited. This set me thinking about other books with similar situations.
For those of you who don’t know, I adore Elizabeth Strout. HUGE fan. In fact, I pat myself on the back for showing such restraint that over the course of three weeks and six newsletters, she’s only so far had the briefest of mentions in one endnote!
As much as I love reading anything new Strout shares with the world, my heart will first and foremost always belong to Olive. After Olive Kitteridge explored the middle years of Crosby, Maine’s most curmudgeonly Maths teacher, Olive, Again returned to this fascinating multi-layered character and took us on her journey into old age. I don’t think it’s a spoiler to say that by the end of the novel, again told across stories, Olive has moved into Maple Tree Apartments residential living.
There are obvious connections to Mrs Palfrey. Olive has to find her feet in a new place, to observe and understand the social structures, and to try to make friends in this forced environment (none of which are Olive’s strong points). She has to start coming to terms with the evermore imposing limitations of age. And, similarly to the obituary-fascinated residents of the Claremont, she has to face the spectre of what inevitably lies ahead through the constant reminder of losing those around her.
Another more specific connection, which I praise both authors for, is the honest and matter-of-fact inclusion of incontinence. (Perhaps Taylor deserves more plaudits covering this in a fairly quiet novel in the early 1970s; Strout has previous form in demonstrating her general lack of squeamishness.) This is a condition, a reality of life for many. More open discussion of and everyday reference to incontinence will surely help to lessen the unnecessary embarrassment, shame and association with loss of dignity. Round of applause from me, Elizabeths.
Next up on my whistlestop tour of where the fictional elderly live out their days, a peaceful retirement village in Kent. I mean, I couldn’t not mention Richard Osman’s incredibly popular Thursday Murder Club series.
While the set-up is familiar in that we have older people ‘trapped’ within an ‘institution’, my goodness times have changed from Mrs Palfrey’s day! Here are older people determined to live well—the mind-boggling array of activities organised and the clinking of wine bottles in the Waitrose delivery van as it crosses the cattle grid on the way into Cooper’s Chase indicate they are doing just that.
Similarly to Taylor, Osman writes his characters and set pieces with such wit. Joyce, one of the four members of the Thursday Murder Club, gets many of the best lines:
“More women are murdering people these days,” says Joyce. “If you ignore the context, it’s a real sign of progress.” (from The Man Who Died Twice)
There is still some humour in the fish-out-of-water moments, but it is warmly delivered, smiling at the elderly characters’ missteps in the modern world (Joyce’s first foray onto Instagram springs to mind). Much more of the humour is at the expense of the younger people making assumptions and misjudgments about their elders. The police are initially fairly patronising and consider themselves to be politely humouring the Club members, while in fact being unwittingly bamboozled to give up vital information through cunning cake-induced manipulation!
While Osman’s books are perhaps heavier on the wit than the pathos, it is still there, and being unexpected and rare creates greater impact. The story can shift from pacy action to laugh-out-loud comedy, and then to a quiet, incredibly moving moment with a character feeling utterly lost and scared in their frailty. That hits hard.
Taking us in a completely different direction, this beautiful children’s book came to mind when I was pulling ideas together, Madame Badobedah by Sophie Dahl.
My daughter and I loved this wonderful story (beautifully illustrated by Lauren O’Hara) about a mysterious and incredibly glamorous old lady who comes to live at The Mermaid Hotel run by Mabel’s parents. Madame Badobedah is initially rude and demanding, and so Mabel makes up all sorts of stories about who she really is and why she’s come to live there. Over time they become firm friends and Mabel learns the truth. Not an international jewel thief after all, but a lonely widow, missing her husband, afraid of starting again in a new place, whose life is brightened immeasurably by friendship with a younger person. Familiar themes. Gorgeous book.
Finally, honourable mentions for Three Things About Elsie by Joanna Cannon, where the residents of Cherry Tree Home for the Elderly set about solving a mystery from Florence’s past—a sort-of forerunner of the Osman set-up with added sadness and Battenburg. And when I mentioned my theme for this newsletter to Helen Redfern, she reminded me of the wonderful Best Exotic Marigold Hotel films. Rewatch long overdue, thanks Helen.
I’d heartily recommend Mrs Palfrey at the Claremont and will definitely be reading more of Elizabeth Taylor’s books. And I hope you’ve enjoyed my journey around some of the final residing places of fictional favourites. Any you’d add to the list?
Extra credit:
My lovely writing friend Angie Vincent wrote a glowing review of Mrs Palfrey last year: https://changing-pages.com/2022/05/13/mrs-palfrey-at-the-claremont/ (Angie has a gorgeous blog and IG account exploring London in a slow and gentle way, searching out quiet beauty and capturing it in the most calming and enticing photography.)
An interesting discussion of Mrs Palfrey and Elizabeth Taylor more generally from the NYRB Community Bookstore on YouTube:
I’ve been unable to find a way to stream the 2005 Mrs Palfrey at the Claremont film adaptation starring Joan Plowright and Rupert Friend—I’ll have to invest in the DVD. I did, however, find the1973 Play for Today version available in full on YouTube:
Includes affiliate links to Bookshop.org, an excellent bookselling website supporting indie bookshops.
Thanks for these recommendations Claire. I've hovered around the buy button on Elizabeth Strout books several times but ultimately haven't bought as yet, I keep thinking the subjects might be a bit depressing and I'm definitely not in the mood for that right now! 🌻
I adored Mrs Palfrey and have gone on to read a couple more Elizabeth Taylor’s. Talking of books featuring elderly characters, I also enjoyed Elizabeth is Missing, and Saving Missy (which surprised me as you know I don’t do uplifting reads!). And Evaristo’s Mr Loverman 💕