Making the best of what's left When we're too old to get the chairs reupholstered

Writer and poet Viorst may be in what she calls the "Final Fifth of Life," but she's every bit as witty and observant as she always was. She and her husband of almost 63 years decide to move to a retirement community. It's not easy to leave their home with all its memories, but they've reached the stage where falling is a concern and help needs to be nearby. Shortly after their move, Viorst's husband dies, leaving the author to face the gigantic change alone. Viorst, ever-curious, decides to question others in the community about big issues including death, widowhood, health challenges, and filling their days. Responses vary depending on the attitude of the resident. Many celebrate the activities, contact with their families, and the freedom from household worries. Others lament their lost lives. Woven throughout her observations are poems filled with witty insights. Viorst has a positive attitude as well as a realistic view of her relationships with her children and grandchildren, the need to accept help, limited travel, and (virtual) invisibility. Readers of a similar age will be nodding along and be reminded to be grateful for the time they have left.

The great humorist, poet, and observer of life passages turns her attention to the "Final Fifth" of life. Readers just a bit younger than Viorst, who is now 94, may remember growing up with their parents' copies ofIt's Hard To Be Hip Over Thirty andPeople and Other Aggravations, early collections of Viorst's light poetry. Along with 14 books for adults, Viorst has authored dozens of children's books, among themAlexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. The new book completes the adult series and opens with the poem she meant to give her husband Milton for Valentine's Day 2023; he died a matter of weeks before. This leads her into a discussion of dating and romance at her RC (retirement community) and a poem called "Grow Old Along With Me and My Home Health Aide," and then a last poem for Milton: "Stop Being Dead." Between the poems are mordant observations and anecdotes involving friends and associates from the RC, including their views on the possibility of an afterlife. She herself believes such beliefs are what the shrinks call "terror management." She wasn't here before, and she won't be here after. "Do I mind?Do I mind? You bet your sweet ass I mind." Readers well before the Final Fifth will find plenty to relate to here. You don't have to be much past 60 to notice that as one grows older, it seems much easier to get one's feelings hurt, to feel passed over or left out. The idea of marginalization is nothing new, but only Viorst phrases it directly enough to elicit sudden tears. And no one of any age should miss "A Jewish Widow's Country-Western Love Song." Always both gracious and culturally acute, she acknowledges the wisdom and saving grace of two favorite poets, Jack Gilbert and Adam Zagajewski. We should all be in such fine form in our 10th decade. Viorst is as charming, and smart, as ever. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.