Still Here by Ann Ingle: A gentle and reassuring companion through the landscape of later life

Still Here

Author: Ann Ingle

ISBN-13: 9781788496674

Publisher: O’Brien Press

Guideline Price: €16.99; 224pp

Ann Ingle is a woman who commands immediate respect. At 87, with eight children and 18 grandchildren, her late-blossoming literary career – graduating from Trinity College at 58 and publishing her first book at 79 – is a testament to a fierce, independent spirit.

In her latest book, Ingle delivers a characteristically frank, feisty and philosophical look at what it means to inhabit the deep winter of life.

The memoir is at its most potent when navigating the stark, unavoidable physical realities of ageing. Ingle writes with an honest, unvarnished clarity about the creeping indignities of the octogenarian: the onset of macular degeneration, the eternal fear of falling, the quiet heartbreak of realising you have taken your very last bath.

She balances these frustrations with a sharp wit, invoking Maeve Binchy’s famous 10-minute limit for the “organ recital” of ailments before moving on to cheerier topics. Yet beneath the humour lies profound, moving sorrow, most notably in her reflections on her daughter Róisín’s illness and the devastating memory of finding her adored husband after his suicide.

Still Here occasionally suffers from a structural identity crisis, leaving the reader unsure of exactly who is being addressed. In certain chapters, Ingle directs her gaze outwards to the younger generation, rightly lambasting a western culture that patronises the elderly – talking overly loudly or ignoring them entirely – contrasting it with the reverence shown to elders in countries such as Turkey.

Yet, in other sections, the text pivots into rudimentary explanations of how to navigate modern technology. This dual track creates a curious tension: is the book a manifesto urging society to respect the wisdom of its elders, or is it a practical manual written for Ingle’s contemporaries?

Ultimately, Ingle reminds us that living is always better than the alternative, urging the maintenance of social interaction, movement and gratitude. While the territory of the ageing memoir is well-trodden, Ingle’s resilient mantra provides comfort: “It’s well to remember that nothing is as bad as it seems at four o’clock in the morning.”

For those seeking a gentle, familiar companion through the landscape of later life, Ingle remains a relevant and reassuring voice.

Julia Kelly’s latest work is Still: A Memoir. She also works as a carer for the elderly.