Latest news with #aging
Irish Times
4 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Irish Times
Translated fiction: convincing first-person narration, personal stories through political turmoil, and sharp but subtle humour
In When The Cranes Fly South (Doubleday, 308pp, £14.99), translated from the Swedish by Alice Menzies, the author Lisa Ridzén, a woman in her 30s, inhabits the mind of an 89-year-old man, through a convincingly rendered first-person narration. Thus she demonstrates how wrong it is to advise writers to only draw on their own experience and identity. Details of the daily humiliations wrought by age mix with recollections of his work at sawmills with a cruel father, or his friend Ture, who is also enduring the torments of old age. Such moments of memory are often visited through dreams, which linger briefly in the disconcerting juncture of waking. Bo's wife is in a nursing home and can no longer recognise him or their son, Hans, who provides the main tension of the novel, attempting to assuage his self-doubt by issuing ultimatums about his father's supposed inability to manage his dog, Sixten. Through lucid, observant writing, Ridzén conveys the lack of autonomy allowed to elderly people in a heartfelt novel that gives voice to a sensitively realised old man. In Omerta: A Book of Silences by Andrea Tompa (Seagull Books, 718pp, £22.99), translated from the Hungarian by Bernard Adams, the author creates four separate first-person narrators, to outstanding effect. Kali's tale is told in an accented translation, which is sometimes confusing ('they'd just got two or three 'old an' wouldn't let go of it'), but her voice soon becomes persuasive, especially when indulging her propensity for telling folk tales. READ MORE After a brutal marriage - violence and suicide appear as natural as the wind - she eventually finds work with Vilmo, a rose breeder who is preoccupied with creating blossoms that will rival those produced by the famous Meilland family in France. [ Fiction in translation: The strange workings of myth and history, a work of limpid beauty set in the Bosnian countryside, and more Opens in new window ] Vilmo's narrative voice is very different. Analytical and unemotional, his perspective on fathering a child with Kali solidifies an imbalance of power that also pertains in his relationship with a teenage girl called Annush. However, when we hear her affecting voice, critical judgment is challenged by the temporary escape this illicit affair allows her from a merciless, alcoholic father and the ceaseless work he demands of her. These personal stories are repeatedly impacted by the political turmoil of communist Romania and the 1956 uprising in Hungary. This is especially the case for the fourth narrator, Eleanóra, Annush's sister, who has recently been released from prison for being part of an unofficial convent of nuns. Her contemplative reflections regarding the position she can usefully occupy in a political milieu she barely understands are bolstered by her unwavering beliefs. Through vividly imagined prose, each character's voice emerges distinctly and engagingly, allowing all four to express their perspectives on the uniqueness of their lives within the collectivised society they inhabit. Set in a milieu in which seeking the approval of others is paramount, Cooking In The Wrong Century (Pushkin Press, 172pp, £16.99) by Teresa Präauer, translated from the German by Eleanor Updengraff, deploys sharp but subtle humour to undermine their anxious solipsism. A sense of playfulness is central to a novel in which a couple host three people - all unnamed - for drinks and a meal. The central premise is replayed in several permutations, interspersed with chapters in which the reader is addressed with a familiarity that suggests their complicity in a gathering where every ingredient, gadget and piece of music is a signifier of taste, status and level of sophistication, or lack thereof: 'What Is Culture? ... The book that bore this title had endured four house moves in 20 years and had still never been read. What is culture? Perhaps a short version of the answer could be found in the blurb." Every action is a performance, functioning as potential content for social media posts. The irony is pointed but never overstated, in a witty translation that, despite the satirical intent, also acknowledges the sensuality of food and the ingenuity of jazz. A flood that prevents the guests from leaving hints at the influence of Luis Buñuel's Exterminating Angel, and this brilliantly clever novel shares that film's sense of absurdity. Nothing described in the novel can, with complete certainty, be said to have happened. There is uncertainty too in The Arsonist (Twisted Spoon, 180pp, £11.50) by Egon Hostovský, translated from the Czech by Christopher Morris, regarding the identity of the person setting fire to buildings in a small Bohemian village called Zbečnov. Central to the novel is the family who live above the Silver Pigeon pub, run by the mercurial Josef Simon. 'Here is home, beyond them, the world.' His teenage children, Kamil and Eliška, are suffused with burgeoning desire in search of an object. Eliška spent three years in a convent because of their mother: 'She's always been bad.' But she too is adrift and unhappy. Outside the confines of their home, the suspicion and distrust of outsiders - already a feature of the village - is heightened when buildings begin to go up in flames. But, as always, the truth is more complex and less convenient than the locals would wish. This sense of an outsider threatening a small community, initiated by their collective paranoia, is like a precursor to the novels of László Krasznahorkai. First published in 1935, the novel is beautifully written, with a narrative style that whispers confidences to the reader. The lyricism of Hostovský's superbly translated descriptions is a pleasure to read, capturing both the delight and ennui in village life: 'The rooftops gleam in the sun, two small clouds sail over the church, the sparrows make a commotion on the fence, somnolent warmth, Sunday outfits and tedium.' A Fortunate Man (NYRB, 870pp, $29.95) by Henrik Pontoppidan, translated from the Danish by Paul Larkin, has previously been translated into English as Lucky Per from a novel that was first published in 1905, having appeared in serial form earlier. Using free indirect narration, the novel is ostensibly a birth-to-death narrative about Per Sidenius, born into a family deeply rooted in religious service and sombre conformity. But Per's questioning nature is ill-suited to accepting received doctrines, and his break with his family personifies a journey both outward and inwards, embodying the faltering modernisation of a country and the search for a true self. His personal story, encompassing his far-seeing ambition as an engineer - already envisioning the energy potential of wind and wave power - and indecisiveness in relationships, is at every moment fascinating and unpredictable. But of even greater interest are his discussions about religion, especially those with the ostracised Pastor Fjaltring, and his desperate search for an authentic way of being in the world. Despite its length, the novel never loses focus and includes much elegant, expressive writing, meticulously translated by Donegal-based Larkin, who includes a few phrases that will be familiar to Irish readers: 'the lark in the clear air' appears twice! While the novel inevitably includes the prejudices and assumptions of its time, it also echoes the ever-changing, irresolute, self-questioning and contradictory reflections of Per in a search for the self that leads into the lonely morass that constitutes that self. He is the conscience of a novel that deserves to be considered among the greatest works of world literature.
The Independent
7 hours ago
- Health
- The Independent
New research explains why wrinkles develop with age
Scientists at Binghamton University have experimentally shown that skin wrinkles as it ages due to a process where it stretches laterally and then contracts, forming creases. Associate Professor Guy German explained that the skin's mechanical properties degrade with age, causing increased lateral stretching driven by inherent forces within the skin. The research involved using a low-force tensometer on skin samples from individuals aged 16 to 91, providing experimental evidence for previously theoretical models of skin aging. This new finding complements existing knowledge that genetics, disease, sun exposure, and repeated muscle movements also contribute to the formation of wrinkles. Published in the Journal of the Mechanical Behavior of Biomedical Materials, the study did not investigate methods to prevent these newly identified forces, though external factors like sun damage are acknowledged.
The Independent
12 hours ago
- Health
- The Independent
Science has proven why your skin wrinkles. Here is what you need to know
Researchers finally know why our skin wrinkles over time - and Silly Putty can help explain it. Scientists at New York's Binghamton University say experimental evidence shows that it's a similar process to stretching out a favorite hoodie or t-shirt from overuse. Essentially, aging skin stretches in one direction, contracts in another, and then collapses. As you age, the contraction gets bigger, resulting in the formation of the skin folds and creases. 'If you stretch Silly Putty, for instance, it stretches horizontally, but it also shrinks in the other direction — it gets thinner,' Associate Professor of Biomedical Engineering, Guy German, explained in a statement. 'That's what skin does, as well.' Wrinkles start to appear after around the age of 25 years old, according to the Cleveland Clinic. Scientists have long believed that skin wrinkles due to genetics, the effects of disease, and damage from the sun. As you get older, your skin cells are replaced at a slower rate, causing the skin's outer layer to thin and forming wrinkles. Lines in the face, including forehead and frown lines, are largely out of our control, as they're caused by repeated muscle movements. Previous studies, using computational models, have also shown changes in the mechanical properties such as the elasticity and structure of the skin's middle layer during aging. The layer, which contains the proteins elastin and collagen, is the home to hair follicles, blood vessels, and sweat glands. Until now, those changes had never been proven experimentally. 'When I got into this field, that was one of my goals – can I figure out aging?' said German. 'Because if I look at the TV, the radio, online, at shops, I'm being told 1,000 different things about how to improve my skin health, and I want to know what's right and what isn't.' To reach these conclusions, German and his team used a low-force tensometer to stretch out seven tiny strips of skin from people between the ages 16 through 91, simulating the forces the skin naturally experiences. The tensometer tests the maximum force a material can withstand while being pulled or stretched before breaking. The skin was collected through elective surgery or tissue from cadavers. They found that the skin has one set of mechanical properties when you're young. As you age, things get a bit 'wonky,' German noted. 'Things degrade a bit, and it turns out the skin stretches laterally more, which causes the actual wrinkles that form,' said German. 'And the reason why that exists in the first place is that your skin is not in a stress-free state. It's actually stretched a little bit. So there are inherent forces within your skin itself, and those are the driving force towards wrinkles.' The research, which didn't delve into how these forces could be halted, was published recently in the Journal of the Mechanical Behavior of Biomedical Materials. Of course, there are other things that we know affect the skin that can contribute to appearance over time. Spending too much time outside can result in a nasty sun burn, as well as age the skin prematurely with the same effect as aging naturally. 'If you spend your life working outside, you're more likely to have more aged and wrinkled skin than those who are office workers, for example,' German warned.
CNET
20 hours ago
- CNET
I Used FaceApp AI to See How I Might Age. It Wasn't as Bad as I Thought
While society idolizes youth and normalizes young people getting preventative treatments to "stay young," there's nothing more attractive than someone who wears their age proudly. Especially since some argue that working to prevent aging might be having the opposite effect -- making 20-year-olds look like they're 30. I'm one of those people who believe in aging gracefully. Fillers are frightening to me, but will I regret not getting them when I'm 50? I thought I'd ask artificial intelligence, with all that it can do -- I've already used it to change my hair color, predict my future baby's face and create headshots. Surely it can show me a realistic version of my aged face. What is FaceApp? A quick search for "old age face app" in the App Store led me to FaceApp, which has been around since way before AI was cool. The Cyprus-based FaceApp Technology launched its app in 2017, allowing you to transform your face with old and young filters. FaceApp is free, but it has feature limitations. For premium filters, no watermarks and faster processing, you can upgrade to FaceApp Pro for $10 per month, or $5 per month if you pay for the 12 months in full. There's a one-week free trial available. I'm happy to pay $10 to save me a lifetime with wrinkles, but I started with the free version. Getting started with FaceApp I was in no state to take a selfie, so I chose a few photos from my camera roll. Given AI apps are usually picky with photo quality, I selected four to upload. Once I uploaded the images, the FaceApp watermark was instantly added to each one, given that I was on the free plan. The features were easy to find, with a simple banner of prompts to select from. I could change my face size, skin, expression, hair, gender and age. I clicked on Age, and it had eight face prompts available, from young to teen to old. I picked "cool old" first to soften the blow. Baby steps. First impression? I'm wearing too much makeup. Oh, and I look like my grandma. The original photo of me (far left), the AI-generated "cool old" version (middle) and AI's "old old" version (right). FaceApp/Amanda Smith/CNET Now onto the second. Me now (far left), the AI-generated "cool old" version (middle) and AI's "old old" version (right). FaceApp/Amanda Smith/CNET What this one nailed was the vertical line between my eyebrows and my crow's feet. My dad has these lines and he's 70. He's also got a full head of hair, so it's good to see my AI old age filter with fab hair. On to the third try. This one's not bad at all. Me now (far left), "cool old" (middle) and "old old" (right). FaceApp/Amanda Smith/CNET On to the lucky last. Aging with that hair? Not bad at all. Me now (far left), "cool old" (middle) and "old old" (right). FaceApp/Amanda Smith/CNET FaceApp and privacy concerns FaceApp reassures its users that it doesn't use any of your photos or videos for any reason other than giving you the ability to edit them. While it uses Google Cloud and Amazon Web Services to process and edit photos and videos, your multimedia is only temporarily cached on those cloud services while they're being edited and encrypted with a key stored locally on your own device. They remain in the cloud for 48 hours at most -- meaning FaceApp and its third-party partners do not keep any of your photos or videos, either before or after they've been edited. Advice on aging from AI While it's fun to see how AI predicts I'll age, I wanted to take it further to get feedback on what I can do about it. Can ChatGPT tell me my problem areas and suggest a skin care regimen? I opened ChatGPT and uploaded the four old-age images from FaceApp with this prompt: "Here are four AI-generated old-age filter photos of me. This is how AI predicts I'll age. Based on the visible aging in these photos, identify the problem areas and provide a personalized regimen that I can do now to avoid my skin aging to this extent. I don't want generic advice." ChatGPT gave me the standard skin care routine advice but did emphasize a vitamin C serum in the morning to brighten the skin and vitamin A in the evening. For preventive treatments, it suggested microneedling, laser therapy, chemical peels and Botox. I asked ChatGPT if I needed Botox or if good skin care would suffice. Screenshot by Amanda Smith/CNET ChatGPT suggested I see how my skin responds to good skin care over the next two years. If dynamic lines deepen, it's time for Botox. Ouch. Given that I'm nontox obsessed, I asked ChatGPT if there's a natural alternative to Botox. It gave me some options such as facial acupuncture, natural wrinkle relaxers (bakuchiol, argireline and aloe vera), a collagen-rich diet and noninvasive treatments like microcurrent devices and LED light therapy. I asked what the most natural cosmetic procedures are, and I got this list: To summarize, ChatGPT suggested three top non-tox treatments based on my photos: Screenshot by Amanda Smith/CNET The verdict on using AI to predict how you'll age It's handy to be able to use AI to get a sense of how I'll age, then put it into a chatbot to talk through preventive strategies. While AI image generators might be way off, it can help with the decisions I make now in how I care for my skin and hair -- though you should definitely speak to a dermatologist before making any decisions. Maybe I just need to age with dignity and change my mindset, not my face. Hopefully by the time I'm 60, society will have caught up to the fact that there's beauty to celebrate at every age.
Times
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- Times
The perils of becoming a househusband
Walter Schmidt and his wife, Barbara, have been married for 52 years. Their shared existence runs along well-developed grooves. Herr Schmidt, as he prefers to be known, is a curmudgeonly, self-congratulating old man, who was in his working days the 'king of overtime' but now spends most afternoons in an armchair, watching television and counting down the minutes until his next meal. Barbara is his ever-patient companion and, depending on the time of day, his alarm clock, barista, dog walker, secretary, laundress and private chef. 'Whatever she'd done before they met was hardly even worth mentioning.' Early one Friday morning the settled life of the two German pensioners hits a snag. Barbara has a fall in the bathroom and bashes her head. She makes no fuss. Herr Schmidt, who is cross that his usual coffee has not been prepared ('his nostrils flared longingly, missing the familiar aroma') finds her sprawled across the tiles and ushers her back to bed.
