Coda

Oddly, or perhaps not oddly, come to think of it, the smoking ban came into effect about three days after I got the news – yes, now I do come to think of it, it seems more than odd, it seems eerily consequential, suggesting among other possibilities that I am so innately, organically obedient that my whole physical system submitted to the law in spite of my habits and inclination, and that my inner opposition to it was immediately met by the most appropriate and natural punishment – lung cancer.

So reflects the celebrated diarist and playwright Simon Gray during this frank, profoundly moving and often painfully funny account of what he refers to as ‘the beginning of my dying’. During a holiday with his wife in Crete, Gray recalls the scans, consultations and biopsies that have dominated the previous months while offering unforgettable portraits of fellow tourists and digressions on everything from lying to the maître d’ and concerns about tipping to crimes of passion and his new-found obsession with obituaries.

Written with a great generosity of spirit and a poignant reluctance to leave this world behind, Simon Gray’s Coda is as life-affirming as it is heart-rending.