Quote of the Day (Simon Gray, on the “Benefits” of Aging)

“So here I am, two hours into my sixty-sixth year. From now on I’m entitled to certain benefits, or so I gather — a state pension of so many pounds a week, free travel on public transport, reduced fee on the railways. I assume I’m also entitled to subsidiary benefits — respectful attention when I speak, unfailing assistance when I stumble or lurch, an absence of registration when I do the things I’ve been doing more and more frequently lately, but have struggled to keep under wraps — belching, farting, dribbling, wheezing. I can do all these things publicly now, in a spirit of mutual acceptance.”—Simon Gray, The Smoking Diaries

(I’ve been interested in playwright Gray for more than a quarter century, when I wrote an article on him for a reference publication. It came as a surprise over the weekend, then, when I learned that Gray had passed away in early August. Nothing I learned from writing that piece prepared me for the details of his life as revealed in the New York Times obit: smoking like a chimney and drinking like a fish—not just whiskey, but if, his claim was to be believed, up to four bottles of champagne a day.

The drinking habit fell by the wayside after his doctor told Gray he’d be dead in no time if he didn’t give it up. But, as The Smoking Diaries demonstrated, there was a limit to what he would accept. Many readers would find the unmistakable voice in the passage above—unapologetically cantankerous, a jaundiced view of both the modern welfare state and the joys of aging—hilarious. His obstinate refusal to forsake smoking simply angers me, however. Believe me, I know how hard it can be to give up a vice, but I’ve felt considerable guilt in the process and have struggled as far as I’ve been able, sometimes even succeeding. It’s Gray’s lack of remorse that I find aggravating.

Too bad. Gray’s death from cancer short-circuited a highly productive career in the theater, and someone who wrote with considerable into the chattering class of British intellectuals in plays such as Butley, Otherwise Engaged, Quartermaine’s Terms and The Common Pursuit. Part of my annoyance, I realize now, stems from the thought that if he’d taken even a bit better care of himself, we might have had even more work that enriched the theater and the larger culture of our time. Eternal peace to your curmudgeonly shade, Mr. Gray.)