Fresh Pages and Faded Minds

Section Editor Kayleigh Greig reviews themes of dementia in the novel The Secrets of The Huon Wren while reflecting on the life of her own grandfather.

When I first began reading The Secrets of the Huon Wren [1], I was reminded of my grandpa. Claire Van Ryn’s award-winning debut novel interweaves the paths of journalist Allira and Nora Gray, the mysterious elderly woman whose story she gradually uncovers. How did she come to be alone, no family to keep her company? What is the significance of the baby doll she clutches so fiercely? How can Allira piece together these rambling fragments into a whole story?

The book depicts a balanced view of dementia, showing the dark side through Nora’s violent episodes: 

“Nora tightened her grasp, squeezing with brute strength.

‘Please let go, you’re hurting me.’ Allira tried not to allow the panic she felt into her voice.” p.11.

But Folk magazine, where Allira works, is all about the complexity of individuals, and with a pinch of persistence, she succeeds in uncovering the tender and even strong aspects Nora hides:

“Even with deep lines like parentheses around her mouth and splaying from the corners of her eyes, her skin was glowing. She was beautiful, Allira realised.” p.40                                                                                                                               

Despite her lack of memory, Nora unknowingly helps Allira through her painful past and present troubles with her errant Editor in Chief. The two form a symbiotic bond, each helping the other by providing companionship.

The book got me thinking about my relationship with my own grandfather. My first memories of him are misty – there are photos of my brother and me with him by the poolside on a holiday, and I suppose I can vaguely remember it… But even at another family get-together about eight years ago, he was there but didn’t participate all that much. And then, the last time I saw him alive, my dad had to beg him to come see us, his grandkids, while we were in his home country, South Africa. He cancelled plans and dug his feet in about not wanting to leave the house and not wanting us over either. He was paranoid – everyone was out to get him, and my family was on the verge of giving up on him. 

Finally, he did come out for one meal, giving each of us a terse hug and brushing away our questions with self-deprecating jokes. 

I didn’t understand my grandfather.

And in the end, I couldn’t be there for him either, just like Nora Gray.

His descent into Alzheimer’s was something we heard about through phone calls from the retirement village. He’d bought a bunch of camera equipment – we figured it was for his hobby of birdwatching, but apparently, he didn’t get out much. He’d punched a nurse. They had to confine him. He was in hospital with pneumonia. He was dead.

With COVID, we had to hold the funeral over Zoom. Maybe it was fitting, since the most I recall of him were the occasional Skype calls between him and my dad that we joined in on as kids. The ceremony was awkward, with many far-flung relatives I didn’t know. The audio kept cutting out, the slides were out of order and all anyone could seem to remember was that my grandpa used to love mixing cement and building walls. 

It’s difficult to summarise a person’s life, especially someone both beloved and infuriating; I tried to write a short story from his perspective to understand what he went through (you’ll see it under ‘Edenvale’ in the Creatives Section), but I enjoyed even more how Claire Van Ryn delves deeper into the lives of these multifaceted people, showing their upsides and downsides in equal measure. 

One day, I will likely become like my grandpa; I took a DNA test, and, among other things, it indicated that I have a high risk of developing Alzheimer’s. It’s a scary disease – deposits of proteins in the brain cause it to shrink and die, getting worse with time. It’s a cause of dementia – memory loss, disorientation, changes in behaviour, decline of social skills and, in advanced cases, higher susceptibility to infection (such as pneumonia) [2]. As someone who takes pride in my mind, the prospect of losing it terrifies me. But, awful as it may be, there’s comfort in knowing that authors such as Van Ryn still see the beauty in those affected with dementia, proving that they may still change the lives of others for the better. 

So, whether you choose to read the book or not, at least take my advice to live an interesting life now, because some day, these might be the only memories you have left.

ENDNOTES

[1]  Van Ryn, C. (2023). The Secrets of the Huon Wren. Penguin Random House Australia. 

[2]  Mayo Clinic. (Accessed 30 September 2024). Alzheimer’s disease. https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/alzheimers-disease/symptoms-causes/syc-20350447#:~:text=Alzheimer's%20disease%20is%20a%20brain,brain%20cells%20to%20eventually%20die.