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Death Benefits
To be as blunt as the main character in Death Benefits (Orca $12.95), the new young adult novel by Victoria editor Sarah N. Harvey, here is how Royce Peterson sums up his mother's 95-year-old, dementia-addled father: celebrated cellist, legendary ladies' man, abysmal parent, shitty grandparent.
Royce is temporarily off school, on the mend from a bout of mono, so he reluctantly agrees to look after foul-mouthed and egotistical Arthur Jenkins in return for fifteen bucks an hour. It's better than working at McDonald's. He figures the money will get him a car and out of Victoria, back to Nova Scotia where he belongs.
His grandfather, funky smelling and "skin and bones under his grubby old-man cardigan,"; is holed up in a genuine Art Deco house with the curtains drawn tight, TV blaring CNN and MTV, and dirty dishes and garbage stinking up the kitchen. But out in the garage there's a mint-condition 1956 black T-bird.
"Car like this,"; his grandfather says, "you get laid all the time.";
Royce, who's only got his "L"; license and needs a licensed driver to accompany him, ferrets out his grandfather's driver's license (confiscated by his mother) and soon they're off to a barber shop where the tall and delectable Kim shaves both their heads.
Bald, his grandfather brings the phrase death's-head to mind but, even scarier to Royce, is the familial resemblance. Identical noses, same-shaped heads, matching bumps at the base of their skulls.
A monotonous yet comfortable routine develops. Royce sneaks open the curtains another inch, makes his grandfather coffee and takes him on a weekly outing in the T-bird like a "fussy baby.";
From Arthur's off-hand stories and the photos and other artifacts unearthed during Royce's casual searches of the old house, he slowly pieces together his grandfather's life, and therefore begins to better understand his mother.
Arthur suffers a serious stroke. Then another. And another. "Kill me,"; he croaks to Royce, even going so far as managing to peck out the desperate plea on his laptop.
Royce remembers that during one of the oncoming strokes he'd put off calling 911, figuring he could do the hourly checks just as well as ER. He had a bike date with a girl that could lead to a real date, and he didn't want to blow it.
Royce, reeling with guilt and remorse, remains silent as they hook his brilliant, miserable, charming, horrid, petty, gallant grandfather to life support. Then support and redemption come from an unlikely and unexpected source.
Death Benefits was inspired by Sarah Harvey's experiences caring for her father, John Edgar Harvey, who died at age ninety-five. He provided the spark (but not the model) for the character of Royce's grandfather because he, too, refused to "go gentle into that good night.";
Having cared for an elderly parent, Sarah Harvey was inclined to agree with Edith Wharton who once said, "There's no such thing as old age, there is only sorrow." But Death Benefits is an uplifting story-a Driving Miss Daisy in Victoria, with a teenage boy and a cranky old man-because it explores the notion that there could be something more than sorrow for an old man and his grandson.
"I wanted to allow for the possibility of joy,"; says Harvey. "Something that eluded my father.";
By Louise Donnelly
[BCBW 2010]
Royce is temporarily off school, on the mend from a bout of mono, so he reluctantly agrees to look after foul-mouthed and egotistical Arthur Jenkins in return for fifteen bucks an hour. It's better than working at McDonald's. He figures the money will get him a car and out of Victoria, back to Nova Scotia where he belongs.
His grandfather, funky smelling and "skin and bones under his grubby old-man cardigan,"; is holed up in a genuine Art Deco house with the curtains drawn tight, TV blaring CNN and MTV, and dirty dishes and garbage stinking up the kitchen. But out in the garage there's a mint-condition 1956 black T-bird.
"Car like this,"; his grandfather says, "you get laid all the time.";
Royce, who's only got his "L"; license and needs a licensed driver to accompany him, ferrets out his grandfather's driver's license (confiscated by his mother) and soon they're off to a barber shop where the tall and delectable Kim shaves both their heads.
Bald, his grandfather brings the phrase death's-head to mind but, even scarier to Royce, is the familial resemblance. Identical noses, same-shaped heads, matching bumps at the base of their skulls.
A monotonous yet comfortable routine develops. Royce sneaks open the curtains another inch, makes his grandfather coffee and takes him on a weekly outing in the T-bird like a "fussy baby.";
From Arthur's off-hand stories and the photos and other artifacts unearthed during Royce's casual searches of the old house, he slowly pieces together his grandfather's life, and therefore begins to better understand his mother.
Arthur suffers a serious stroke. Then another. And another. "Kill me,"; he croaks to Royce, even going so far as managing to peck out the desperate plea on his laptop.
Royce remembers that during one of the oncoming strokes he'd put off calling 911, figuring he could do the hourly checks just as well as ER. He had a bike date with a girl that could lead to a real date, and he didn't want to blow it.
Royce, reeling with guilt and remorse, remains silent as they hook his brilliant, miserable, charming, horrid, petty, gallant grandfather to life support. Then support and redemption come from an unlikely and unexpected source.
Death Benefits was inspired by Sarah Harvey's experiences caring for her father, John Edgar Harvey, who died at age ninety-five. He provided the spark (but not the model) for the character of Royce's grandfather because he, too, refused to "go gentle into that good night.";
Having cared for an elderly parent, Sarah Harvey was inclined to agree with Edith Wharton who once said, "There's no such thing as old age, there is only sorrow." But Death Benefits is an uplifting story-a Driving Miss Daisy in Victoria, with a teenage boy and a cranky old man-because it explores the notion that there could be something more than sorrow for an old man and his grandson.
"I wanted to allow for the possibility of joy,"; says Harvey. "Something that eluded my father.";
By Louise Donnelly
[BCBW 2010]
Submitted on August 1, 2010 in By David.
