I was reminded of all of this as I finished reading The Summer Book, a refreshingly plotless 1972 novel by Tove Jansson. She herself was simply content to enjoy as best she could whatever might be left of her life.
It was a shock to learn yet again that mortality and self-determination are incompatible dance partners, although that didn’t stop several well-meaning and loving souls from urging on her a new plot in which she would save herself by eschewing sugar, swallowing vitamin supplements or embracing faith healers. When my wife was diagnosed with cancer, family and friends were surprised that someone who lived in her deliberately healthy manner could have a life-threatening illness in her 50s. All but the lucky learn early that life is a plotted story only in art and imagination.
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