Jill Clement's Revisits Initiation and Duration of Her Marriage with 30 Year Age Difference

Jill Clement's second memoir, CONSENT, covers a lot of ground but the central focus is on the relationship with her husband with whom she was married for more than 40 years who was 30 years older than her. Jill was a 16 year old  art student when she first met, and then seduced, her 47 year old married art teacher. I have three words for this: statue tory rape. After reading this sensitive, candid and eloquently written memoir, I've softened having been smitten by Jill's eloquence and uncertainties, and by a love that deepened over five decades spent together. "Does a story's ending excuse its beginning? Does a kiss in one moment mean something else entirely five decades later? Can a love that starts with such an asymmetrical balance of power ever right itself?" What struck me was Jill's questioning her younger self. "Were my acts selfless, or was this the price I was willing to pay for my own eternal youth-to always be the younger woman?" There are admissions to Jill's vanity throughout her memoir. "Where did Arnold get his energy? From me, of course." She further concedes,"How does one grow old as the younger woman?"..."One doesn't.  I always looked fresher than he. If I gained a few pounds, he gained more. If my skin wasn't as taut as it once was, his was looser". But as she came into her 50s and Arnold into his 80s, the disparity reared its aging folds. "He looked helpless and blind and unbearably old, and I feared that the most difficult part of my life was about to begin." This proves true, nevertheless, her steadfast devotion comes to the forefront with tenderness and a vital, solid partnership. "All I knew was that he was willing to learn from me, that I had something to teach." The balance in the relationship felt to be a true partnership; supportive, loving and wondrous. Each shared with the other first. Jill to read what she wrote to Arnold, and Arnold to show her his artwork. Both provided the other encouragement and constructive criticisms. They were gifted artists who shared the other's passions. CONSENT isn't a soft love story, or unflinching tribute to an entirely redeeming relationship. Their union disrupted a marriage and family and fed Jill's illusions. "From time to time, he must have yearned to return to his former life-the three bedroom ranch house, the comfortable savings account, all that he had given up for me." Jill noted, "The illicit, risqué lifestyle sited my fantasies of how artists and writers should live." Jill ends her enthralling memoir circling back to their beginnings, "...his arm dangling over the side-the same position he was in when I went to seduce him 45 years before. I crossed the room and stood over him. He stirred and opened his eyes. There might be a dispute about our first kiss, but there could be none about our last."