This is 70: Novelist Gish Jen Responds to The Oldster Magazine Questionnaire
"I like being done with figuring my life out—with figuring out where I should live, what I should focus on, what sort of people I like, how I like to spend my days. I know what’s important to me."
From the time I was 10, I’ve been obsessed with what it means to grow older. I’m curious about what it means to others, of all ages, and so I invite them to take “The Oldster Magazine Questionnaire.”
Sometimes you’ll find responses from writers, musicians, and artists you’ve heard of—like Kate Pierson, Neko Case, Rosie O’Donnell, Ava Duvernay, Jerry Saltz, Lucy Sante, Ricki Lake, Hilma Wolitzer, Elizabeth Gilbert, Judith Viorst, Cheryl Strayed, Deesha Philyaw, Chloe Caldwell, etc.—but more often it will be people (of all ages) you haven’t heard of, Humans of New York-style.
Here, celebrated novelist Gish Jen—author most recently of Bad, Bad Girl—responds. -Sari Botton
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Gish Jen was born in Yonkers, New York, in 1955, to Chinese immigrant parents. Her parents had not meant to end up in the US; they got stuck here. As for the fallout, she has spent the rest of her life grappling with that and what it meant, both to them and to her.
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How old are you?
70.
Is there another age you associate with yourself in your mind? If so, what is it? And why, do you think?
36. I published my first book that year, and had my first child, too. It’s the year I became the person I now most recognize as myself.
Aging has given me perspective. It’s easier to accept things, and to let go of things that don’t matter or don’t work—indeed, to accept that some things will never work out. But of course, age has taken away a certain sanguinity, too: You never forget that your time on earth is limited.
Do you feel old for your age? Young for your age? Just right? Are you in step with your peers?
I feel young for my age, perhaps because people always comment on my “youth.” A certain amount of that is simply that Asian skin wrinkles less readily than Caucasian skin. But it’s true I’m still growing emotionally and intellectually. And I have so much I want to do!—which puts me in step with some peers, but not all: I certainly have peers who, having had more traditional careers, are now retired and seem preoccupied with that transition. (I, in contrast, will never retire.)
What do you like about being your age?
I like being done with figuring my life out—with figuring out where I should live, what I should focus on, what sort of people I like, how I like to spend my days. I know what’s important to me.
What is difficult about being your age?
It takes so long to recover from injury. I was in a bad bike accident two and a half years ago, and have only just recovered full use of my neck.
What is surprising about being your age, or different from what you expected, based on what you were told?
I do think septuagenarians are far younger than our parents were at this age.
What has aging given you? Taken away from you?
Aging has given me perspective. It’s easier to accept things, and to let go of things that don’t matter or don’t work—indeed, to accept that some things will never work out. But of course, age has taken away a certain sanguinity, too: You never forget that your time on earth is limited.
I feel young for my age, perhaps because people always comment on my “youth.” A certain amount of that is simply that Asian skin wrinkles less readily than Caucasian skin. But it’s true I’m still growing emotionally and intellectually.
How has getting older affected your sense of yourself, or your identity?
When I was younger, I thought I had a lot of different possible people in me, and maybe I did. But now I realize that, for better or worse, I was stuck becoming me.
What are some age-related milestones you are looking forward to? Or ones you “missed,” and might try to reach later, off-schedule, according to our culture and its expectations?
I don’t know if this is a milestone, but is it too late to learn to play the piano?
What has been your favorite age so far, and why? Would you go back to this age if you could?
I’d love to be in my late 40s again. My kids were young enough then to miss some school but old enough to take with me on adventures all over the world. And we did indeed traipse all over, a happy little family.
Is there someone who is older than you, who makes growing older inspiring to you? Who is your aging idol and why?
Cynthia Ozick is absolutely amazing—97 and still writing, reading, and firing on all cylinders!
What aging-related adjustments have you recently made, style-wise, beauty-wise, health-wise?
Like many, I am religious about getting my leafy greens and blueberries. I do yoga every day. And I stay in shape. But I am less proud than I was about athletic endeavors. I am no longer driven to go down every black diamond x-c ski trail, for example, and have become an evangelist for e-bikes.
What is your number one regret in life? If you could do it all over again, what is the biggest thing you’d do differently?
I am sorry that I spent so many years thinking about med school and law school. And what was I thinking that I even enrolled in business school? I did drop out after the first year, but still. What a waste of time.
I have so much I want to do!—which puts me in step with some peers, but not all: I certainly have peers who, having had more traditional careers, are now retired and seem preoccupied with that transition. (I, in contrast, will never retire.)
What is high up on your “bucket list?” What do you hope to achieve, attain, or plain enjoy before you die?
Having written about my mother in Bad, Bad Girl, I do think I will have to write about my father, who also grew up in China. It’s a much different story, with less conflict. I don’t know that a general audience will want to read it. But I have to write it, if only for my grandchildren and great grandchildren.
Is there a piece of advice you were given, that you live by? If so, what was it, and who offered it to you?
The wife of a friend of mine in grad school once said to me, “You know what your problem is? Your problem is you never learned to say ‘Fuck you.’” I don’t know that I live by that exactly, and I remain a person reluctant to tell people to get lost. But every now and then I’m in a situation where I do have to say, Fuck you. And I always think with gratitude of the person who taught me that.
My 70th birthday was like a wedding except that I could wear whatever I liked and actually had time to talk to everyone—which was so much fun I’m ready to turn 70 again next year!
What are your plans for your body when you’re done using it? Burial? Cremation? Body Farm? Other?
I plan to be cremated and buried with my husband, but would love, too, to have some part of me become a planting.
What’s your philosophy on celebrating birthdays as an adult? How do you celebrate yours?
I see birthdays as an excuse to gather far-flung friends you would normally never see together in one room. My 70th birthday was like a wedding except that I could wear whatever I liked and actually had time to talk to everyone—which was so much fun I’m ready to turn 70 again next year!
MONA IN THE PROMISED LAND was (is) the most important book to me as a young person, and child of an immigrant mother and American Jewish father, and a budding writer — the way Gish Jen writes about the real travails of teen life, and immigration, and Jewish culture, and so on, through a lens of pure wit. I was so serious and it made me learn to laugh at myself. Important, too, because my dad and I read it simultaneously and then quoted lines to each other for the rest of his life. What a gift.
Big resonate here. Gish Jen sounds like someone I'd love to know.