The Force of Character

This book is the powerful sequel to The Soul's Code, which I reviewed when in San Francisco in the autumn of 1997. It takes the key idea of the earlier book further by considering the way in which character is expressed and fulfilled in old age. As he puts it in a discussion about character and the face: 'the face makes visible the metamorphosis of biology into art'. Hillman gives primacy to the processes of the psyche over those of biology, although there is plenty of coverage of these aspects of old age as well. Ageing can be an art form.

The book is arranged around three themes: Lasting, Leaving and Left, with an interlude on the Force of the Face. Hillman begins with longevity, or lasting (a long time) as such. Here quantity is important, and the attainment of extreme old age can be regarded as a kind of achievement. It provides an opportunity – ideally a conscious one – for soul-making. Character has more chance to express its uniqueness, having left behind the less developed need for conformity. As one lasts, one can become identified with what is valuable about the old in general and old age in particular – much of which is undervalued, especially in American culture. In so far as the old is identified with the ageless and deathless, it represents continuity of culture, of which the old are the guardians. We treasure old books, old wine and especially old friends.

Through lasting one finally reaches 'the last time', which transforms love, pain, despair and habit into poetry. Hillman quotes Whitehead as saying 'Importance is derived from the immanence of infinitude in the finite'. Here lasting turns to leaving, hanging on to letting go. This section is peppered with vignettes and insights about the biology and psychology of old age: sagging folds, waking at night, agitation and irritability, erotic imagination and vitality, night-time waking and even the symptoms and symbolism of heart failure. Readers will smile at the foibles and tendencies identified, perhaps recalling Hemingway's observation that 'as we grow older, we do not grow wiser, we become more so'. This 'more-so' is the maturation of character. Much space is devoted to discussions exploring memory and reviewing life – 'short-term loss, long-term gain'. At the end is return to the self, perhaps understanding certain experiences for the first time, as Eliot observed in his Four Quartets – had the experience but missed the meaning.

The third part is the departure from physical life as well as a vindication of the concept of character, which the 20th century tended to replace with the lesser categories of subject, personality and ego. By this stage, character is 'engraved' but the danger lies in a hardening of the categories along with the arteries. Hillman states: 'the easy path of aging is to become a thick-skinned unbudging curmudgeon, an old buzzard, a battle-axe. To grow soft and sweet is the harder way'. This sweetness is the emanation of love-wisdom in remarkable old people we know or have known, like the 90-year-old Brother Boris in Sofia, whose very presence was a healing balm; in terms of wine, I liken it to old Sauternes, reminding me of a luscious, golden 1920s Barsac I drank over a decade ago. It is only such people who can truly bless: 'blessing is the one gift we want from the old, and the one great gift only they can bestow'.

Switching metaphors towards the close of the book, Hillman turns to 'finishing'. Finish is not just ending but also refining and polishing – as in the fine finish of antique furniture. This he calls the 'actual state of character'. This rounding and sweetness is the full maturity of the fruit that is human being. The fruit may be wizened, but the juice within is concentrated with sugar and ready for the alchemical process of fermentation and finally distillation into spirit. Hillman has written a seminal guide to the process of ageing, which should be on the bookshelves of all over-50s.