So . . . is a Broad:
Feisty? You bet.
Fun? You bet.
Gutsy? You bet.
Incisive? You bet.
Original? You bet.
Even off color? You bet.
Call me a Broad? Please!
Call you a Broad? Consider this your invitation to join the club!
With a subtitle like “Stuff You Need to Know That You Didn’t Know You Needed to Know”, I expected Two Old Broads to contain some hidden wisdom about ageing from a woman’s perspective; and having Whoopi Goldberg as a coauthor (along with nonagenarian MD, M. E. Hecht), I expected it to have some degree of entertainment value. But I was wrong on both counts. The advice given is very basic, the humour is strained, and the tone is superior and argumentative: more than anything, this seems to be Hecht’s advice for how to remain independent and relevant in the face of one’s family or society’s best-intentioned efforts to put you out to pasture — and as money doesn’t seem to be an object for either of the authors, I don’t see how their advice relates to the average reader — with Whoopi intermittently throwing in her own “two cents” on a topic. Not recommended for anyone. (Note: I read an ARC through NetGalley and passages quoted may not be in their final forms.)
I’m not inclined to record much more than some passages that annoyed me for one reason or another. I found Hecht (despite having been a ground-breaking female orthopaedic surgeon; all respect for that) to be so unrelatable with her stories of using a personal shopper several times a year at Saks Fifth Avenue to remain fashionable throughout her career (she and Whoopi met at a show during New York Fashion Week) or how she noted when she was a child that the butler always humoured an eccentric old aunt’s quirks or even how she refused to accept patients if they said that they only sought her out because they “found my name on a popular magazine’s list of best surgeons”. Her pearls of wisdom for the reader included:
• You don’t have to retire from fashionable, appealing, or even sexy apparel because you’re over sixty. Beware: if you do, you’ll be asking for a pitying look, slower service, and never a “Good to see you.”
• You can gift your near and dear (especially the younger generation) with your wisdom. You may have to adjust the language you use by sprinkling in some digital mentions, hip phrases, or references to popular phone apps, but speak from the experience you’ve gained.
• Despite my stupidity in evoking the injury, I grant that I had some advantages in this situation: a hospital where I’d been on staff that gave me preferred status to receive an early surgery; a nursing and technical staff that handled one of their own with kid gloves; immediate attention; my choice of surgeon; and a private room.
At one point, when discussing how she shuts down conversations in which she feels the other is being condescending, Hecht writes, “I am known to use so-called ‘genius words’ in English, German, French, or Latin that few people understand. Others don’t have to know exactly what I’m saying to know they’re on the receiving end of my temper.” And that seems to explain why, throughout, Hecht uses vocabulary that doesn’t necessarily add to plain comprehension. She uses phrases like “Skipping a day or two won’t ablate their benefit” and “apelike four-limb ambulation”, but perhaps most tellingly, she uses the obscure word “armamentarium” in four different instances, which really seems to highlight Hecht’s perspective that old Broads are in war against their family and society for respect and independence.
I was also struck a few times by what seemed like plainly bad advice for the senior years:
• There are no worries about unplanned pregnancies. Therefore, there’s no need for condoms or other forms of birth control that may interfere with spontaneity and thought-free enjoyment. However, be sure to have a conversation about any positive (or for that matter, negative) experiences with STDs.
• I can think of numerous ways to resolve situations where the family says, “We don’t want you to,” when you want to. Take, for example, driving a car at an advanced age. You can either prepare for hostility and say, “It’s my car, and I will be its driver,” or take a more accommodating approach: “I have noticed some dings recently, so perhaps somebody should be my copilot.” You could also offer to take a new driver’s test, which should include a test of your vision. It’s bending over backward, but if that’s your relationship with your family, it certainly is a goody-two-shoes solution.
Meanwhile, Whoopi’s contribution is very small and includes such passages as her own thoughts on sex and dating:
I tell my dates, “I will Zoom date you, but I’m not gonna sleep with you. Not because you’re not cute, but because the idea of having to smell someone else in my bed — it can’t play.” That’s just me, and I’m consistent.
Or on the ageing body:
Stop trying to be cute and courageous. It’s time to tell the damn doctor what he or she needs to know. Okay? You’re too old to be futzing around holding things back. Tell them what they need to know — it will make your life easier.
I understand that Dr. Hecht passed away before Two Old Broads was published — and I intend no disrespect to her memory or legacy — but I found little of value (and much of annoyance) here. I’ll end as the book ends, with Hecht’s nightly prayer while falling asleep:
Let me take advantage of the things I’m good at
but minimize frustration at those I’m not.
Let me conquer short-term memory loss with the
practical means of using lists.
Let me convince those who care for me that there
are many things I can do safely, without help.
Let me remember and celebrate my experience and wisdom
purchased at the price of age.
Let me try the new, assuming it is interesting and physically within my ability.
Let me share my knowledge with my near and dear in quiet moments.
And last, I suppose, let me wake to the new day.
And so, lay down to sleep.
WHOOPI’S TWO CENTS
Please, God, let me wake up tomorrow. Amen.
And that I can relate to.
