Millard Salter’s Last Day

Jacob M. Appel Gallery Books

“Guns aren’t lawful; Nooses give; Gas smells awful; You might as well live.”

And with that, we’re off to the races in Jacob M. Appel’s Millard Salter’s Last Day.

Millard Salter is a 75-year-old New York City-based psychiatrist who’s courting suicide. We find Salter in an existential funk — a Camus-esque cul-de-sac in which life seems simply not enough — or perhaps more accurately, too much.

Millard’s dilemma isn’t whether to be or not to be. On that, he’s resolved, unequivocal. The question is how to get from here to there. And so, in ornate, frequently droll prose, Millard ushers readers through his “last day” and to his finale.

The author is clever — coy, even. He has Millard tease us. Thus, our protagonist can be comical, careening from innermost stream of consciousness to conversations with hospital colleagues to quirky, lovable family and friends.

But the more we get to know Millard Salter, the more we want him to live.

While eating at a café with his colourful son, he experiences a mysterious, powerful explosion. He emerges rattled but unscathed.

Then, too, there’s a lynx, a mascot of sorts and leitmotif that interplays throughout the fateful day. Ultimately, the animal attacks him. Still, he escapes. Unscathed.

The author has a gift for shtick — Jewish New York City shtick. And in spite of Millard’s claim to being in a profound funk, when all is said and done, the man is full of life.

Millard calls up comparisons to the late John Updike’s visited and revisited character, Rabbit. Embodying contemporary ennui, Rabbit considers himself fulfilled when he manages to merely “muddle through.”

For our part, the reader wishes Millard — and all Millards — something more.