The Last Days of Ptolemy Grey / Walter Mosley 277 p.

I hardly know where to begin with this, one of the most unusual and memorable novels I've read in awhile. First, is it even a novel? It's a heck of a story, that's for sure, but it might be called allegory, morality tale, or Greek myth. 91-year-old Ptolemy Grey is spending his last days in a filthy, infested apartment in a wretched L.A. neighborhood. His mental function is severely diminished, and, apart from visits from his grand-nephew Reggie, he has only a loud TV and radio for company. That, and the memory of his long-dead beloved Great Uncle, Coy McCann, whose pearls of wisdom are one of the many 'treasures' scattered throughout this tale. At Reggie's funeral Ptolemy meets a young family friend, Robyn. They form an instant bond despite the 70+ years that separate them. She doggedly cleans the apartment, separating the mounds of trash from the literal treasures that Ptolemy has stashed there, and gets Ptolemy to a doctor who makes a Faustian bargain with Ptolemy: he will take a drug which will restore his memory while also hastening his death. In return, the 'Devil,' as Ptolemy calls him, will make use of Ptolemy's body for research after his death. Mosley's depiction of Ptolemy's confused mental state alone makes this a terrific read, but there is so much more here. I was especially fascinated by the Greek-y elements: Ptolemy is dogged by a troll-like neighborhood drug addict, who attempts to exact a toll each time he leaves his apartment. Robyn is a figurative sort of virgin/princess, restoring Ptolemy to life and health. Treasures are stolen, hidden, dug up and redeemed. And Ptolemy's final lucid act restores balance to a slice of the world tipped out of whack in true Greek fashion. If this sounds dull or pedantic, then disregard what I've written. I was enthralled.