Palm Meridian
by Grace Flahive
For a novel about old people and dying, Grace Flahive's sparkling debut, Palm Meridian, couldn't be more full of life. Welcome to the Palm Meridian Retirement Community, where "the residents... [are] retired only in name." By 8 a.m., "nothing--no force of nature, no act of God--could stop these elderly women from attacking their days with a kind of energy that would make a working person quake." It's 2067, "the second half of the twenty-first century and everything was flavoured with apocalypse." Orlando, the nearest city, "was left with the wreckage of a sprawling Disney empire, the company long gone bust." The country--with the rest of the world--is not well: a third of the United States is without a reliable power grid. "California was on fire more often than it wasn't. There was a generally held belief in Florida that the whole of Orlando could explode in a giant fireball, and Washington wouldn't know or care for at least a week." Remarkably, the Palm Meridian is both haven and home for some 200 "sept- and oct- and nonagenarians, plus a handful of centenarians whose rogue, robust health made everyone else look bad."
As Flahive's not-quite dystopic fiction opens, Palm Meridian's entire community is readying for a major party that evening: to celebrate the last night of resident Hannah Cardin's 77 years. Three months ago, Hannah received her terminal diagnosis: "The onset would be gradual.... But deterioration would be quick," her young doctor warned. "The suffering would be great, the pain likely unbearable." At least she has choices. "If life would not be life, then she wouldn't live it. She'd go out with a bang." And so tomorrow morning at 9 a.m., Hannah will check into the Palliative Care Ward of Florida Grove Hospital--and end her life.
Until then, she has so much to do, starting with her morning coffee at the community bar, run by beloved Nate. She can expect plenty of supportive help to prepare for the upcoming shindig from her dear friends who have all agreed to put on brave faces for today: former prize-winning journalist Christine, whose dramatic affairs haven't abated with age; the two Eileens--small and tall and married to each other--who can still rock the "hike-lite" outdoor-life fashion, a constant sartorial tribute to their meeting a half-century ago at a Washington bird sanctuary; and Esme, Hannah's dearest friend (and first love), who remained "the spitting image of her twenty-year-old self." By 10 a.m., even Luke--Hannah's oldest friend from age seven and with whom she built a business empire--has arrived, having ventured south from Montreal. This close coterie has supported her through her diagnosis and helped her send out invitations, organize RSVPs, and ensure that every last party detail will be perfect. The only uncertainty is Sophie, the love of her life, whom Hannah hasn't seen since their breakup 43 years ago. Will she, can she, arrive in time?
While Flahive counts down the hours to tomorrow, she intertwines broad glimpses of Hannah's life from conception (in Montreal in 1990) through childhood (often cold but warmly, parentally beloved), the first independence of college and self-discoveries, company building and globally expanding with Luke, falling madly in love, insurmountable losses, her eventual move to Florida 10 years ago, and the wondrous community she's created since. Her fateful final 25 hours might have a few tears, but most of it is filled with frenetic joy--even a hushed (because it's in the library, of course!) wedding, efficiently, perfectly finished and enjoyed in exactly 30 minutes. Love, at any age, carries on... and on and on.
By moving back and forth in time, smoothly connecting then and now, Canada-born, London-transplanted book marketer Flahive creates a gentle, rhythmic pace not unlike everyday life. She's a delightfully clever writer, effortlessly, impressively balancing poignant emotions ("I hope, for a while, I kept you warm"), serious environmental warnings (the "tumultuous planet"), dramatic flair ("like time-travelling from a medieval castle into a gay IKEA"); sly playfulness ("Please stand, if you're able"); and dark humor ("they don't let you take perishable food where I'm going"). Despite a global future with all manner of worsening challenges, Flahive deftly inserts aspirational goals for senior citizens-to-be. Acts of kindness and caring--and fun!--are timeless at any age.
Hannah may be the star of the evening, but her friends are undeniably, delightfully memorable throughout, with fully realized backstories--and a few utterly ready for their own potential close-ups. Perhaps readers' last-page wish for more will inspire companion titles. Endings, indeed, are inevitable, but Flahive vividly demonstrates that living loudly, vivaciously, gloriously, to the very last minute is an essential life lesson to embrace. --Terry Hong