This is a road story -- with a twist. Our protagonists are two elderly women -- Lillian and Audrey -- who suffer from dementia. They are tired at the same old, same old life at their retirement home and decide to drive from Ottawa to see the Rocky Mountains. As they plan their escape from a locked facility, they realize they need a car, money, clothing. They write down what is important to remember and it seems that when one forgets, the other usually remembers. They quickly realize that driving will be a problem, and offer a ride to a young man, Rayne, who wants to go to B.C. to visit his father.

The story is told from Lillian's perspective, and she is not always a reliable narrator; she sometimes confuses Rayne with her son, or her deceased husband and often thinks Audrey is her aunt, Fraise. Audrey, too, suffers from memory lapses and periods of confusion. But, all in all, they make out just fine. By the time Rayne realizes that they have dementia and that there is a missing persons' report filed on them, he cares too much to abandon them or turn them in. So, on they go!

The narration is wonderful and shows what it is like to have dementia, what it is like to be put in a home where you'd rather not be and made me question my definition of competency. Lillian and Audrey know what they want....but will they get it? ( )

Meet Audrey and Lillian, two ladies with alzheimers who feel like prisoners living at "Tranquil Meadows" nursing home on the locked floor. Lillian hatches a plan that they need to escape and go on vacation without telling anyone. They get their hands on scissors to cut off the arm bands that monitor their whereabouts, get their hands on a car (Lillian kept a set of keys to her car when it was sold to the neighbour boy), get some cash and head off. Lillian is not the best of drivers, so when they meet a nice, young man, Audrey is able to convince him to drive them to B.C. where his home is. It takes a day or two, but "Rayne" finally figures out these are not just two nice old ladies on vacation, there is definitely something wrong with them, and so the fun begins. When they do not want to get caught they decide to call themselves Lucy and Ethel, of course the youngsters they meet do not realize the irony of that. They become like a little family complete with a dog they find along the way. They share information about their lives with one another in between their stops, overnight stays and funny situations.

This is a great road trip story. We gain some insights to the world of dementia as well as the life of someone living in a nursing home that really does not want to be there. We also gain some perspective on the struggles of someone young trying to make their way in the world. The pain and anguish Lillian's family must go through not knowing where she is or if she is hurt was apparent in the brief glimpses with phone calls.

This story gives us an appreciation of what it is like to get older and lose some of your faculties. It also reminds us to be gentle and kind to others, do what you can to help them and sometimes it is important to slow down, admire your surroundings and take a vacation.

I received a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. ( )

In Flee, Fly, Flown, two elderly women escape from their nursing home to go on a cross-Canada road trip. Along the way, they recruit the driving services of a young homeless man. This novel is a rather extreme take on the "unreliable narrator" idea, as the narrator suffers from Alzheimer’s disease. I found that her frequently meandering thoughts made for difficult reading, even if they did succeed in conveying the terrible consequences of this disease. For the most part, the story was fun and heartwarming, but it also shows the hardships experienced by people who are no longer able to live independently. ( )

An old woman for a travelling companion? You might expect what Iain Reid expected in The Truth about Luck.

"Lots of strolls, time for reading, cups of tea, ten hours of sleep per night, not too much direct sunlight, three square meals a day."

But Janet Hepburn's novel has more Jack Kerouac than Twinnings in it, more Beat than tea, more love of the open road than for three squares (though considerably less strolling and more driving).

And like Kerouac, one might wonder if Hepburn isn't most fond of "the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time".

For her characters, Lillian and Audrey, are residents of Tranquil Meadows Nursing Home, but they are mad to live, mad for an adventure.

"Audrey has to come with me. It wouldn’t be any fun without her and besides, together we’ll have better luck sorting things out.
I pick up her cane and start walking, hopefully in the right direction. I’ve been having trouble knowing which way is which in The Home, but I’m sure that’s because everything always looks the same in there. That is definitely not the case here. It is all very new."

From the start, Lillian is driving the action, often with a good dose of irony.

(For instance, you can see the irony in the act of taking an old woman's cane away from her as an incentive to get her moving in the direction of an adventure, in the bold move of declaring the need for a new direction whilst acknowledging a poor sense of direction to begin with.)

Lillian's dementia does not wholly eclipse her practical side and worldly experiences, however; she is (as yet) aware of her losses and she recognizes that she needs Audrey's help as much as she wants her company.

Audrey is somewhat more removed from readers because Lillian narrates, but Audrey is no melba-toast sidekick. She is an active, enthusiastic and essential participant. (Audrey, for instance, hatches the plan which nets them a vehicle.)

"‘Just talking about being young again,’ Audrey says. ‘It’s a main topic of discussion when you’re eighty years old…or ninety-eight. I think I’m ninety-eight.’
‘You’re not ninety-eight. The thing is, we need to get away. Every bloody day is the same. We need an adventure,’ I say."

Audrey, too, has problems with her memory, but she has no difficulty remembering the same-ness that characterizes their existence in The Home.

And she, like Lillian, has a sense of longing which is overwhelming at times. This is the connection that Rayne instinctively understands when he is introduced to these travellers, who need help parking in front of the bank which will supply their getaway money.

"Audrey glances again at the young man on the bench and back at me. I see the look in her eye. Lord have mercy! The world does not need an eighty-year-old flirt."

But, quite possibly, Audrey is not, in that moment, aware of her age. Perhaps she, like Lillian, is imagining an Audrey of another time, without a mirror to challenge her assumptions.

(Lillian describes hardly recognizing herself in the present: "As I wash up, I’m surprised by the person I see in the mirror – so saggy and wrinkled, so pale.")

There are many humourous moments in the narrative (including Audrey's flirting and her hunch that she is ninety-eight years old, when she is actually younger than Lillian), but the reader always feels solidly on-board with Lillian and Audrey.

This is partly a result of the narrative being rooted in Lillian's voice directly, and partly because the matter of respect is at the heart of the story. And that's not a simple matter. Sometimes an act of respect merely cloaks a deeper truth (in the moment and in the broader sense).

"I hate being called Ma’am. It sounds so condescending, like I’m some sort of old babe who doesn’t understand how busy and important others are with their whole busy and important lives ahead of them."

Rayne has an inherent respect for what (and who) has endured. Readers are not immediately aware of this (indeed, it seems possible that Rayne's initial involvement with Lillian and Audrey may have been spurned on by nefarious plans) but, as the narrative develops, and the trio's travels extend in time and space, Rayne's character develops as well.'

"'They’re tearing them down – the grain elevators. I don’t know much about how they grow and store grain now, but I understand hundreds of the old wooden elevators have been demolished. It seems wrong. It just feels like they need to be there standing guard over the fields and towns.’
‘You hold on pretty tightly to tradition for a young guy,’ Audrey says, looking at his profile as he drives. ‘You love old things, admit it.’"

What might have been a band-aid solution to a narrative problem (how DOES one get two old women on a road trip without a willing and capable driver?) becomes a credible element of the story.

Although he does not articulate it clearly, Rayne embraces the idea that Lillian expresses, and inherently rebels against the idea of same-same life in Tranquil Meadows, wants to help Lillian and Audrey as much for his own personal reasons as for theirs:

"Such a cruel way to finish out a life. It should be like reading a book – fine to have a sad part in the middle, but the ending should be happy."

Whether Janet Hepburn follows Lillian's advice for a good book will remain for readers to discover, but Flee, Fly, Flown has exactly the right ending for this reader's taste, when the reader is ever-aware of the question of a destination as the pages are turning.

For “the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars,” writes Jack Kerouac in On the Road.

Burn, Burn, Burned: it's not as catchy as Flee, Fly, Flown, but Lillian and Audrey's adventures explode like spiders across the stars of northern Ontario (and beyond), and readers willingly ride shotgun in Janet Hepburn's moving narrative of madness.