Woodward’s I’ll Go to Bed at Noon
and August
were Man Booker and Whitbread finalists, respectively. In his warmly comedic latest, Aldous Jones, following the death of his wife, has retired as an art teacher and begun declining into a fetid self-imposed exile on London’s Fernlight Avenue. Daughter Juliette’s exasperated comment on Aldous’s having “failed” when he gave up painting long ago rouses him to visit the National Gallery, where he makes a life-changing reacquaintance with a lusty Rembrandt portrait. Son Julian’s seeming unraveling and Aldous’s short hospital stay following a fall prompt Aldous to visit Julian in Ostend, Belgium; there, a madcap series of encounters ensue with much younger women, one of whom inspires him as the Rembrandt portrait does. Upon returning to London, an inspired Aldous enrolls in a language class, paints madly, travels the city with various odd companions and houses his son James and James’s family, leading to further adventures. Persistent themes of aging, illness and art are seamlessly woven in via Woodward’s slowly paced and beautifully written prose. Aldous is at once endearing, sad and inspiring, and he’s given a vibrant set of foils in the flamboyant supporting cast. His subtle and understated deterioration is funny, haunting and human. (Mar.)
