Now We Are Sixty

Once upon a time, in the far-off realms of 1999—a year that promised so much and delivered only a smattering of dubious Y2K panic—David Eccles took a bold leap into the world of literature. He penned the oddly-titled "Now We Are Sixty," a book that dares to tackle the rather alarming subject of aging. Forget the usual tropes of wisdom and nostalgia; in Eccles’ hands, reaching the illustrious age of sixty seems less like a dignified milestone and more like stumbling into a crowded pub with mismatched socks and a questionable haircut.

In this profound work—or is it a whimsical jaunt?—Eccles whips out his trusty quill and offers readers a motley collection of contemplations, whimsical anecdotes, and possibly misplaced grievances about the relentless march of time. Each page invites you to contemplate the existential dread of adulthood, all while chuckling at the absurdity that life throws our way, like an ill-timed custard pie. You might find yourself wondering whether the author had a mid-life crisis on a particularly dreary Tuesday or if he simply decided to channel his inner curmudgeon while sipping lukewarm tea.

What makes this tome particularly engaging is Eccles’ knack for blending the profound with the ridiculous. You might find yourself pondering life’s big questions—like why socks disappear in the washing machine—while laughing at his zany observations about the peculiarities of life over sixty. Who knew that the ruminations of a man on the brink of retirement could be so absurdly entertaining? You’ll be invited to join him as he navigates the minefield of social expectations, inherited aches and pains, and the bewildering emergence of unsolicited advice about the best type of cardigan to wear.

But wait! There’s more! In between the lines of hilarity and reflection, Eccles manages to slip in some rather thought-provoking commentary on the nature of aging. Who knew that turning sixty also meant discovering an entirely new world of unsolicited medical pamphlets? Or that your body might start to resemble a poorly maintained vintage car? Eccles captures these moments with an ironic flair that leaves you laughing while simultaneously questioning your life choices—an impressive feat, indeed.

Condition: This book is decidedly used, which means it carries all the delightful quirks of a well-loved item. Expect some dog-eared pages, the occasional coffee stain (perhaps from a contemplative sip during a late-night reading session), and the lingering aroma of nostalgia that can only come from a book that has seen better days. Perfect for those who enjoy the charm of imperfection and the stories that come with a slightly battered cover.

It’s worth noting that this book is published by David Murray, a name that may evoke memories of when publishing was done with a certain flair—perhaps ink-stained fingers and an old typewriter in a dimly lit basement. So, if you’re in the market for a book that oscillates between the profound and the preposterous, "Now We Are Sixty" may just tickle your fancy, or at least raise an amused eyebrow.

So, if you find yourself staring down the barrel of forty, fifty, or god forbid, sixty, this book may serve as an ironic companion to your journey through the absurdities of aging. After all, who says getting older can’t be a right laugh? Just remember: the early bird may get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese, which, by all accounts, is a far better deal.

Grab your copy today from Crappy Old Books and prepare for a delightful romp through the eccentricities of life as you inch ever closer to—dare we say it?—sixty. Who knows? You might just find yourself chuckling at your own inevitable fate while wondering why on earth you ever thought that wrinkle cream was a good investment.

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