I did not know about this story until I saw the preview for the movie re-make. How I managed to miss this in my Lit classes, I have no idea. The synopsis intrigued me and right away, this has become one of my favorites.
This strange, thought-provoking little story explores the progression of life, only backwards. It's 1860, and Benjamin Button is born an old man, with an octogenarian's ability to think and talk. As he progresses in age, he actually becomes physically and mentally younger. His reversal continues and at a certain point, he reaches his prime- physically strong, fun-loving, and a war hero. What a blessing in disguise. After all, how many times in your life do you think, "Gosh, if I was only younger, I would do this, I would do that.."?
However, his delight turns into annoyance, then despair as he ages to a point where he is mentally and physically 15. At this point, his son Boscoe is in his 40s and resentful that he now has to look after his dad and his son. Here lies an interesting parallel to reality: many of us, at a certain point, enter the "sandwich" generation in which we are simultaneously looking after our children and our elderly, ailing parents.
Very soon, Benjamin finds himself in kindergarten, where he finds that "playing with little strips of colored paper, making mats and chains and curious and beautiful designs, was the most fascinating game in the world."
I found myself feeling a bit of envy as I read this. I often times find myself watching my toddler with fascination: everything is new, exciting and wondrous to her. I get so caught up in everyday nuisance; I long to feel what she feels.
Eventually, Benjamin reverts back to an infant. The last few paragraphs of the book describe this in such beautiful, simple words: "There were no troublesome memories in his childish sleep...There were only the white, safe walls of his crib...When the sun went his eyes were sleepy--there were no dreams, no dreams to haunt him". "He did not remember clearly whether the milk was warm or cool at his last feeding or how the days passed--there was only his crib and Nana's familiar presence. And then he remembered nothing. When he was hungry he cried--that was all. Then it was all dark, and his white crib and the dim faces that moved above him, and the warm sweet aroma of the milk, faded out altogether from his mind."
Although this story was incredibly short (seriously, it took me less than 30 minutes to read it), each and every word was so descriptive that I felt I was getting the full meaning of the story. It is so perfectly written that I look forward to reading it again and again