JENN 55
Updated: Sep 27
I recently celebrated my 55th birthday. A dear friend called it “Double Nickel,” which I found utterly charming—almost childlike—and in direct contrast to the middle-middle age I had now ascended to. Thankfully, I’m healthy and feel great. Any physical issues that had made me too warm and sleep-deprived were finally under control.
Now, I want to turn my attention to my literary life. What kind of books do I want to read and write as a 55-year-old woman?
This question came into full relief over the summer, when I began the latest novel by a tried-and-true author whose books I had been devouring for over twenty years, faithfully reading each new title as soon as it came out. Themes of love, friendship, motherhood, career, and betrayal perennially kept my interest.
But something happened when I picked up the new release. I could not relate to the characters (who were at least 20 years my junior), the dialogue, or the central conflict. I had a distinct sense that the story would appeal more to a younger audience experiencing the life phase and accompanying predicaments the author described. I did not finish the book. That decision made me sad, especially since I know how much time and effort it takes to write a novel. Yet, my reaction had nothing to do with the author’s storytelling ability.
It was me.
I had outgrown the material that had once made them my go-to reads. I still admired the writer’s talent and thriving career—finding a niche and staying in that lane—and I’m grateful for the hours of reading pleasure their previous novels had given me. However, in the precious time I have to read these days, I have to be intentional about which books I choose. Generally speaking, at this stage of my life, I’m less interested in reading about the growing pains of early adulthood, first jobs, dating apps, hipsters in Brooklyn, situationships, and rampant drug use. Mind you, I’ve written about half of those topics myself (!), but this epiphany made it clear that it was time to expand my oeuvre. As a writer, I had fallen into the trap of depicting tales about twenty- and thirty-somethings, as though our stories stop being compelling once we reach 40. Contemporary literature, especially in the United States, needs more stories about mature, complex women.
Luckily, writers featuring more “seasoned” characters and narratives have taken up space in recent years, capturing the essence of midlife/older women fighting to be seen, heard, and understood. They include: All Fours by Miranda July, Sandwich by Catherine Newman, Vladimir by Julia May Jonas, Remarkably Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelt, The Correspondent by Virginia Evans, Whistler by Ann Patchett, Go Gentle by Maria Semple, Strangers by Belle Burden, and Crash Into Me by Robinne Lee. These are the books that women in my circle are talking about. We’re dissecting the protagonists’ personalities and conflicts, asking ourselves how we would have handled similar situations. Terry McMillan, a long-time favorite author whose work inspired me to believe I could write and be published, has not shied away from portraying women navigating life’s passages, allowing them to grow and grey as she does.
Plus, the themes in this mature genre are rich and multidimensional. Abandonment and divorce. Loss. Depression. Regrets. Aging. Illness. Elderly parents. Empty nesting. Menopause. But also desire. Friendship. Sex. Freedom. Reinvention. Second acts. Respect to the brave writers bucking the youth-fixation trend and deftly describing what women with wrinkles, scars, and soft mid-sections are going through. Seeing our challenges and changes portrayed with depth, humor, and sensitivity makes us feel less alone. Instead, we feel acknowledged, maybe even empowered.
This shift doesn’t mean I will abandon books that feature younger characters altogether, but I will be much more selective, resisting society’s emphasis on youth as more culturally relevant and exciting. I want us middle-agers to have main-character energy, not just supporting roles.
I’m also committing, as a writer, to lean into my identity and age more fully and authentically. It feels fantastic to get older—with the receipts to bolster this newfound perspective.
I can’t think of a better birthday gift.
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