Review: The Boy Is Back

The Boy Is Back by Meg Cabot
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Cabot is one of my favorite authors: she is reliably entertaining, even when addressing serious themes. And her books never fail to cheer me up. She is literary Prozac, returning the world to favor in my eyes, restoring my sense of perspective.

That's in general. In the specifics this is going to be the best book I read this year. First, it's a retelling of Persuasion, a book I recently re-read and one I now respect far more than I did in my youth (now tying with Pride & Prejudice for second behind Northanger Abbey [consider this an invitation to respond with your ranking of Austen]). Second, it deals with aging parents and their progressive deficits, and the responsibility that places on the offspring who then have to step in and address many challenges with no preparation. There is a huge untapped market for childing classes that would cover topics like how to financially guide parents, and home maintenance and repair for seniors who are reluctant to accept help, and downsizing retirees into more manageable homes, and increasing frailty in the aging, and decreased nutrition in people who won't or shouldn't cook. This year has meant having to cope with an entirely new set of care-giving tasks that make nursing a parent through cancer feel easy. This isn't a statement made unknowingly: I have now seen four parents through a total of seven different cancers, and compared to dementia cancer is refreshingly straightforward.

The hard part for the aging parent is losing their independence. For the child (or other relation, or partner, or friend) the hard part is finding a way to help someone who may aggressively reject help. Everyone complains about getting older than we used to be, but no one ever seems to feel old in an absolute sense. The same way no one ever seems to feel adult. I certainly don't. When I look in the mirror I'm always surprised that I'm not still a young-looking 25. Seeing my grandmother's face in the mirror is weird no matter how many decades I've had to get used to it.

But this is where Cabot's skill really amazes me: she's written a book about aging parents and how overwhelming it can be to suddenly have myriad new fires to put out every day and it's a romcom. More than that: it's funny as hell and it's never mean. Not about the older people anyway. Like the heroine Becky, it is sweet, and kind, and understanding. The first time I read Emma I was struck by the way Mr. Woodhouse was treated: yes his whole early nights and gruel advice is silly, and very effectively played for laughs, but the tone is loving and indulgent. Emma wouldn't leave him for anything, and her happy ending includes him. How many writers since Austen have succeeded at pulling off that "silly old bear" tone? The only other I can think of is von Arnim in Enchanted April.

So this is really the perfect book for me this year: light hearted and compassionate and grounded and optimistic. Any other writer mentioning raccoons and cat collectibles would have me ugly crying and full of grief. Not only am I not sad, I am comforted.

Okay, one last way in which Cabot is a superlative author: her backlist has more series than most writers do separate novels, and there isn't a disappointing one in the list. Even Shakespeare has some works that leave me meh (The Winters Tale leaves me cold despite the best stage direction ever). And I still haven't embraced Mansfield Park. Stephen King and Agathae Christie mostly please, but they've both published some duds.

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