I have been reading Walter Mosley for years and he is a wonderful writer. His books, ranging from the Easy Rawlings and Leonid McGill mysteries to his wide-ranging novels to his clear and enlightening nonfiction, thrill my brain, warm my heart, and burrow deep in my memory, riches to feast upon when recalled and enjoyed all over again.
His latest novel, The Last Days of Ptolemy Grey, is another great book, and one of my favorites of 2010 . Ptolemy, named for the father of Cleopatra, has rarely been called by his full name; nevertheless, the pride he finds in the name’s origins and in the Africa of legend has sustained him through times of oppression and fear. Now Ptolemy is ninety-one years old, and the most potent of fears has descended: the fear of losing his memories.
Caught in the early stages of dementia, Ptolemy knows that there is something he must do, a promise he once made that must be fulfilled, but he cannot quite remember what it is or how he is to achieve its fulfillment. Mosley captures the torment of the memory loss when Ptolemy explains that while his memories and thoughts are still his, “they were … locked on the other side of a closed door that he’d lost the key for. So his memory became like secrets held away from his own mind. But these secrets were noisy things; they babbled and muttered behind the door, and so if he listened closely he might catch a snatch of something he knew well.”
When his grand-nephew Reggie is killed in a drive-by shooting, Ptolemy’s fears deepen: he is running out of time to elucidate his memories and set straight a long-ago promise but how will he achieve the necessary clarity of mind to do what he has to do? Robyn, a beautiful young woman (“You the kind pretty, the kinda beauty, that’s like a mirror. Men an’ women see themselves in you, only now they so beautiful that they can’t bear to see you go”) will help but Ptolemy must also make a deal with the devil (a doctor): “They call him the Prince of Liars, but he ain’t no different than a bartender: you pays your nickel and drinks your poison.” (In The Tempest Tales, another favorite Mosley of mine (reviewed below), a deal is made with Saint Peter: the lesson is that when life is hard, deals are made with heaven and with hell).
How Ptolemy’s deal with the devil works, his relationship with Robyn (there is a wonderful line where Ptolemy explains “When I think about you my heart hurts and laughs”), the offer of new love from an unexpected angel, and the constant voice of the long dead Coydog (a character to remember always) merge in a plot that held me close and would not let me go. I sat still and read for hours, feeling anger, sadness, and hope, even laughing out loud at times. When the final resolution came, it was both satisfying and sobering. “And the door that was shut against his forgotten life was itself forgotten”: promises kept, vengeance found, and a future, in death and in life, secured.
