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I see Ben, the writer of the journal, as not only a misogynist but almost a misanthropist. He speaks with more depth of feeling about animals and plants around him than about his fellow humans. I see a man toward the end of his own personal time, cynical, desperate and without a trace of gratitude for the mere fact that he is still alive.
His relationship with his grandchildren does not go beyond an evolutionary psychologist's explanation for why we feel any kind of affinity for our next of kin. In fact everything Ben does or feels seems to be reduced to a series of natural processes. Quite early on in his life, while his first wife is expecting their fifth child,(which in itself is significant, the wife reduced to or having induced upon herself the role of breeder, another natural process), Ben feels trapped. This fifth pregnancy feels 'stale', 'a stunt stained with nature's fatality'. The prospect of this new birth '...underlined the passing nature of all our mortal arrangements'. For Ben the only escape from this existentialist cul-de-sac is to start having a string of affairs or liaisons which make him alive again 'in that moment of constant present emergency in which animals healthily live'. And I wonder, is this what the struggle between culture/civilisation and nature boils down to? That culture serves to keep a check on our primal urges? But they are what ultimately defines us and sustains us?
The fear that I felt paralyzing me while reading the book was not that of death but that at the age of 65 or thereabouts, if we are honest enough to look inside ourselves, what we find that we have become is this: cynical, lewd and leacherous, flesh haters trying to defile what we can no longer ever be again. That we have become isolated pathetic little egos, socially interacting with but having no real contanct with our fellow humans. That we become emotionally impotent long before any physical impotence befalls us, as it did Ben at the end of the book. But I feel no pity for him, just a deep sickening aversion for him and the culture that he represents. And how can you feel otherwise for someone for whom life is but 'a mild misery'?