Suzanne Cahill, Dementia and Human Rights, Policy Press, Bristol UK, 2018, 238 pp., pbk £24.29, ISBN 13: 978-1-4473-3140-7.

making such a statement. Nussbaum’s essays appear to be more informed than Levmore’s; however, they still suffer from a lack of a grounded understanding of ageing. A brief read-through of some of Laura Carstensen’s research, for instance, might have shed some light on meaningful ageing. Levmore’s essays were more problematic; and a basic look at, for example, the critical work of Christopher Philipson and/or Debora Price might have shifted Levmore’s reliance on his ‘intuition’ (a word he used repeatedly) and grounded his work in informed self-knowledge. That said, some of the essays where Nussbaum employs a philosophical basis for understanding are fascinating. Her essays on age and friendship, and her human capabilities approach are thought provoking. The ‘aging and human capabilities’ list (p. ) is a social justice map that addresses inequalities within an ageing demographic. Nussbaum’s discussion of altruism is engaging but does suffer from a brief and somewhat confusing section where she discusses death and fear. She conflates fear of death on the battlefield with mortality and ageing. Again, an informed view of some of the more recent work on death (Tony Walter, the Death Cafes or my own writing) would have been useful. Levmore’s suggestions for strengthening the American social security system are equally important. The restructuring, he suggests, would go some way in redressing the economic inequity many ageing people currently experience within American society. It is here where the authors really shine. As a reader, I had hoped to find such cogent arguments and information in each section of the book. That said, there are arresting nuggets throughout the book – the critique of de Beauvoir, calls for humility and humour when it comes to one’s outlook on ageing, questions about the orthodoxy of dividing inheritance equally and their interesting take on ageing romance are examples of areas that the authors touched on that caught my attention. Though the authors write in a readable, accessible style that will speak well to a general audience, Nussbaum and Levmore repeat the sad and, frankly, depressing narrative of age as somehow a time of unremitting loss or a ‘second childhood’. Unfortunately, Aging Thoughtfully is not a book that provides a rich and wide-ranging narrative as a starting point for informed meaningful conversations.