What if might be one of the most common questions people in their forties ask. We look back at our lives and think: oh, this is how it went. But what if I had chosen differently. Where would I be now?
This, sort of, is the premise of Matt Haig’s The Midnight Library. I read it at the perfect moment, just as I was reflecting on the past year on this Earth.
I turned 42 on February 18th. If I’m lucky, I have about 42 years ahead of me. I’m right in the middle. Ten years ago that felt impossibly far away. I never really imagined my life in my forties. And now all the previous decades feel like yesterday.
The Midnight Library tells the story of Nora Seed, a thirty-something woman suffering from depression. She attempts to end her life by taking too many pills.
Against all odds, she wakes up in the Midnight Library where she’s greeted by a familiar face, the librarian from her youth.
The books on the shelves tell stories of Nora’s possible lives, the alternative paths she could have stomped had she chosen differently. Nora goes down the rabbit hole, opening book after book, trying to find a version of her life where things have gone right, where her loved ones are alive and she herself is content.
It turns out to be hard. Because many things in life are outside our control, no matter what we wish.
It’s mainstream to think about whatifs. Gwyneth Paltrow popularized it already in Sliding Doors (1998). And I bet Jesus thought about it too. What if I had just continued in my dad’s carpentry business?
I’m very mainstream in that sense.
What if I hadn’t chosen theology? Where would I be now?
Would I have studied journalism, writing, photography (probably not) or cultural production? I’m certain something more saucy than classical Hebrew and church history on repeat would have grabbed my attention.
What if I hadn’t left my NGO dayjob in 2012 and kept photography as a side hustle? Where would I be now?
What if I had kept creating dog portraits, my first love? What if I had commercialized my podcast early on? What if I had leaned fully into being an influencer instead of resisting it?
What if I had stayed on one path instead of starting something new many times over?
What if I had been braver and taken more risks?
Everything would be different. Could be different.
And then…
If I hadn’t met my husband, we wouldn’t have had our dogs from his sister’s home kennel. I wouldn’t have ended up in the dog sports I did. I wouldn’t have met the dog people who later became my photography clients, and eventually my communications clients.
And neither of us would have had this exact son, the one I gave birth to in 2021. This small, tiny person, that changed everything. And more.
If I hadn’t become pregnant at all, I wouldn’t have ramped down my photography business. It wouldn’t have mattered whether I worked during daycare hours or not — because there would be no daycare, no child, and no daily logistical puzzle of where everyone is at what time with one almost‑5‑year‑old.
In Finnish we call this jossittelu. It comes from jos, meaning “if”, and jossittelu describes the act of piling up all these ifs.
“On ihan turha jossitella.”
“There’s no point in whatiffing,” one might say. No need for josses, because what happened, happened.
Signed, sealed, delivered. Throw away the key.
In the Midnight Library, Nora takes jossittelu very seriously. She wants to die, but instead gets another chance in life.
Spoiler alert:
In the end, Nora doesn’t die. After all the lives she visits, she realizes she wants to live. And in the final moment, she escapes the collapsing library. She has used all her josses.
And I’m very much alive myself. Sure, I have an ache here and there. My right hip is giving me a headache (or perhaps a hipache) and I’m not as stretchy as I used to be.
But that’s ok. I’m 42.
To be honest, I wouldn’t want to be any younger.
To be 12 and relive the teenage years? No thanks.
To be 22 and have all the life-changing decisions still ahead of me? Bitch please.
To be 32 again sounds better, but I still wasn’t as fully myself as I am now.
To be 42 is quite special.
A late Finnish photographer, Antero Takala, once said:
“After turning 40, life has started to resemble a funnel — everything unnecessary falls away, and you begin to focus on your true area of strength.”
I’m in the funnel too. I know exactly what Takala meant.
Each year I want to do more of what actually makes me happy, and less of the things that seem to belong to my alternative lives. The choices I didn’t make, the versions of me that never fully existed. They don’t feel whole in my forties.
I haven’t stopped jossing completely, I’m such a dreamer. But I think less about the lives I didn’t choose, and more about this one.
And how truly miraculous it became.
-Nani
Side note:
When the gathering restrictions were finally eased during Covid, the library was the first place I went. I wandered between the shelves, ran my hands along the spines, and felt that familiar rush.
Libraries are a place I love deeply. Some people find their comfort in cafés or shopping trips. I choose libraries. It’s home to me.
When a librarian asked whether I needed any help, I told her I was simply grateful to be here. “Mä vain katselen,” I said — I’m only looking. What I really meant was that just the presence of books is more than enough.
Ihana teksti! Koen täysin samoin. Olen mielelläni tämän ikäinen, enkä mitenkään usko että se muuttuu, siis vaikka vuosia tulee lisää. Että viisikymppisenäkin uskon katsovani nelikymppistä itseäni ja ajattelevani: little did I know. Harmittaa kun en muista keneltä olen lainannut tämän viisauden, mutta se on mielestäni hätkähdyttävän totta: ihminenhän saa kasvonsakin vasta nelikymppisenä. Eli meille, kevään (ei lapsille vaan) nelkytkaksvuotiaille! 💐✨🥂
I was never much of an “if” person. Most of my life I’ve had the feeling that things happen exactly as they are supposed to. Not in a theological or fatalistic way, more like “the universe has my back,” if you know what I mean.
I won’t lie though. I would very much like to be 32 years old again. I find that age to be the peak of human life :)