Customer Reviews

Almost a Family: A Memoir

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I have read many memoirs, but few have moved me and expanded my understanding of human nature as much as John Darnton's extraordinary Almost a Family. Darnton writes with the command of language honed over years of journalism, but what makes the book sing is his deep emotional honesty and his unflinching portraits of his mother and father, The New York Times--which loomed over both his parents, his own imperiled youth, and the larger considerations of memory and loss. Like a great novel, there is redemption at the end, and by the time you finish this book you have had a significant experience of your own. I discovered a terrific short video on YouTube about the trip Darnton took to Papua New Guinea where his father died while covering WWII for The Times. On youtube.com type in John Darnton.

I recently read Almost a Family by John Darnton. Full Disclosure: he's a college roommate's brother-in-law. His father, Barney Darnton, was a war correspondent who died from friendly fire (ghastly term) in New Guinea early in The War when the author was less than one-year old. He tells of own life's journey with stories of his father (mostly from his mother) interwoven. His father was a subtle presence in his life, much more influential than he realized at the time. I was reminded of my Reservoir of Sadness, a term I use to describe thoughts of my father, who was killed in WWII during the Battle of the Bulge in Europe.

I am a member of American World War II Orphans Network (AWON.ORG), an organization of people whose fathers died in WWII. Though Darnton's father and mine had little in common and died in vastly different circumstances (Europe-Pacific ... Cold-Hot ... Land-Water ... Soldier-Correspondent ... Enemy Fire-Friendly Fire ... Obscure-Well-Known ... High School Dropout-Well-Educated), I related strongly to many of his growing-up experiences with father memories as a (usually) subtle background.

Like many of us in AWON, he did not diligently pursue learning about his father till later in life. He was 65 and just retired from an illustrious career with the NY Times when he started his serious research. This book is about the effect his father's death had on his family and his career. And finally, it is about finding his father, finding the real Byron (Barney) Darnton.

The writing is clear, direct, uncluttered. I liked the book a lot.

Beautifully written, interesting and moving. What a voyage. Darnton's search to discover the father he never knew, brings us on an incredible sojourn into the foundations of his fascinating life. The writer describes his life in an effortless and insightful manner. His life was not easy, but there is no self pity in these pages. This is an honest examination of a life well lived, and how his parents' vulnerabilities informed that life. A fabulously scripted memoir. A must read.

Those familiar with John Darnton's reporting and works of fiction will be awed and surprised by the writing in his gripping memoir, "Almost A Family". In this great book he manages to merge his exquisite reporting skills with a poet's facility with words not seen in his other works. More than just a recitation of facts or life history, this memoir reads like a Dickensian novel with a strong story line, ample surprises, memorable characters, and a dramatic arc. It is a story of pain, coming of age, and redemption. He manages to bring us along on his quest for the father he never knew. We learn, as he learns, how far the real man departed from the dashing mythical figure portrayed in his youth. We meet a heroic mother trying to hold together the semblance of normalcy while raising her two brave boys and dealing with her own demons. Most satisfying of all, it is the story of how Darnton's own life was changed by the quest. How the death of a myth became the birth of a man.

Bookman

Even though I was well acquainted with John Darnton's first class reportage, editing and writing for the New York Times and his entertaining novels, nothing prepared me for the brilliance and bravery shown in Almost a Family. I was riveted to the scenes of his childhood as the fatherless son of Barney Darnton, a New York Times war correspondent who died under friendly fire in the Pacific. I will never forget the scene of the little boy who played out rituals- handling his dead father's medals as religious icons. The account of his single mother's struggle to survive is a compassionate portrait of a woman ahead of her time - and against the enduring discrimination of women in the field. She paid a high price for her courage.Her descent into alcoholism is one of the most moving sections of this daring memoir. I was impressed by his uncensored accounts of his own childhood misbehavior- the thefts and joyriding, a man as respected as John Darnton might not be expected to risk. The risks pay off and the investigation of the truth of this "almost family" unfolds as a thrilling detective story- What was true? What was a lie? This is a family history that had to be revised and it has been- by a consummate memoirist of the highest level. Along the way, there is the most touching account of brotherly love I have ever read- how John's barely older brother, Robert, became a near-father from age two, protecting John and allowing him a childhood that he never had. The love here is palpable and forgiveness also, as his mother emerges as an unlikely and loved heroine, despite her failings. A tragic yet always engrossing and even entertaining memoir that held me in its spell as few books have in recent years. A view to his website johndarnton.com is a must-see follow up with related articles and a video of the final stop of his journey to find the place his father was killed in New Guinea. I could not put this book down and its emotional impact will never leave me.

John Darnton's father Byron (Barney) Darnton was a foreign correspondent for the New York Times. He was killed by friendly fire in New Guinea in 1942, leaving behind a wife, 2 year old son, and a newborn son. He left behind a hole in the family fabric that was not filled until many years later.

Barney Darnton, born in Michigan in 1898 and raised there. He fought in the waning days of WW1 and after that war, became a journalist, eventually hired by the New York Times. He was a traditional two-fisted newspaperman, married twice before he met and married Eleanor (Tootie) Choate, a fellow New York Times reporter. The two went to live in suburban Connecticut and envisioned a life of domestic tranquility. Two sons were born, Robert and John, and shortly after John's birth,in 1942, Barney Darnton journeyed to the South Pacific to cover that part of Pacific theater for the Times. He was killed in the friendly-fire incident and Tootie was left to raise two young boys.

She did a pretty good job of it, too, despite being an alcoholic. She tried to give her sons a normal upbringing while trying to maintain a journalism career. Many moves, many schools, many crises later, John went to work for the Times while his older brother, Robert, became a noted historian.Their mother died of cancer in the late 1960's.

But through their early lives, both John and Bob were aware of an emptiness at the center of their lives. A family of three that may have been a family of four if an errant piece of shrapnel hadn't found Barney Darnton's head. As adults both boys set off to find the truth about their father, his relationship with his wife and family, and with the world of journalism. After many interviews, a few facts - one startling - emerged about Barney Darnton. His sons visited many of the important places in Barney's life, culminating with John's return, with his wife Nina, to the beach in New Guinea where Barney was killed.

As befits the work of a professional writer, John Darnton's memoir is stunning. He writes with a deftness that is both elegant and simple. If you only read a few memoirs this year, let this be one.

I need to identify an interest in John Darnton's touching memoir of his late father, the New York Times war correspondent Barney Darnton, killed by "friendly fire" off Papua in 1942. He was the first allied correspondent to die in the New Guinea campaign and tragically not the last. His younger contemporaries in Port Moresby came close to revering him as a father figure, even though some had experienced years of war reporting the Middle East before the Japanese invasion.

A few years ago members of the National Press Club in Canberra, with the Australian War Memorial, set out to chronicle Australian war correspondents - of whom I was one in Korea. They either missed or ignored Barney. I came across his death as I researched the Buna-Sananda campaigns in 1943-3, focusing on the US 32nd Division and its 126th regimental combat team.

I learned Barney fought with the 32nd in France in 1917-8 and consequently got rare permission (escaping MacArthur's iron media control, which encouraged only glorification of Corncob Doug) to accompany them into battle. I'm sorry he never had a chance to report the fighting. Some of the 32nd fought like tigers. But they were inexperienced and untrained and the senior command was fired.

Barney was travelling to war with the "small ships" along the northern coast when attacked by a USAAF bomber (which ignored the huge Stars and Stripes the lugger King George was flying).

Barney and the skipper were hit and taken ashore to the north coast village of Pongani.

After I made contact with John, I walked into Pongani (no roads) where I found the attack and the deaths were still remembered and the subject of local legend. I took some pictures of the Pongani people throwing wreaths into the sea and gave $50 to the local school.

(When I sent a description and the pics to John, his reply was that of a seasoned [ie sceptical] journalist. "Did you set it up?" he asked. "Of course," I replied).

Anyway, John and his wife Nina paid a visit themselves, in somewhat more comfort. I was amused at the New Yorkers' impression of PNG's conditions and the people. It comes through as unsophisticated, even primitive. I disagree. These people were and are my friends. Their fathers and grandfathers supported our soldiers and the Americans in the gut-wrenching New Guinea campaigns and I still feel a debt.

I like to think my emails led Barney and Nina to research John's distinguished family and produce a biography/autobiography which is both touchingly personal and bears on the lasting effects of a tragedy of the Pacific War.

John Stackhouse,

North Turramurra NSW

Australia

This memoir covers some very intertesting and touching events in the author's life, especially centered on his young life which was haunted by the death of his father when he was a baby. The narrative which focuses on his father and mother, and their early married life, and then his early life was the most interesting for me. The absence of his father permeated his life and cast a strong shadow on so many choices he made. The memoir surely brings home ideas about how strong the father and mother figures are in shaping young lives, and into adulthood, the absence and legacy having just as strong an impact as ones who are present. I dawdled a bit with thinking how fathers who are present, but maybe not in the way that the child would want it, about how their impact might not even be as strong an influence as a death that was heroic and larger than life in the end. Enjoyed this memoir a lot.