Customer Reviews

Jesus, My Father, The CIA, and Me: A Memoir. . . of Sorts

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If you've read any of Cron's other books, this memoir will knock your socks off. If you haven't, then reading this will make you want to read more.
Having a dad who worked for the CIA without your knowing it is one thing, but having an alcoholic dad is another thing entirely. Cron issues a disclaimer at the beginning that hedges the expectation of the reader to hear the `truth' about his childhood. I don't think he needs this. There's enough detail here to make it totally believable, and poignantly so.
The life he led as a child is the stuff of black and white films. He recounts a childhood in Greenwich Village of both privilege and horror, and a gradual coming to faith despite a rigid immersion in parochial school, and a gripping drug addiction in adolescence, that continued to plague him in adulthood.
My mainstream evangelical self squirmed at his assertion that he actually heard the voice of Christ pleading for `forgiveness', but then, given Cron's unconventional way of expressing his faith, it fits.
I read this latest work of Cron's just the way I ingested the last one, "Chasing Francis". With zest. Cron is a gifted writer who knows how to salt the page with just enough hyperbole and a gentle touch of poetry.
I received this complimentary copy from Thomas Nelson Publishers in return for my honest opinion of the book.

Jesus, My Father, the CIA, and Me: A Memoir...Of Sorts by Ian Morgan Cron is a telling of the childhood of a young man whose father was in the CIA (though he didn't know until he was a teenager) and had a hard journey with alcoholism. This book takes us through his childhood, young teens, and into adult hood as he learns to cope with this knowledge, and as he works through a relationship with his father as a child.

It's a story of love, acceptance, and you feel he's speaking this story directly to you instead of just typing it on a page for anyone who comes along to read. However...

There were some parts I did not agree with. There was a point with "Miss Annie" of learning how God would humble Himself to seek the forgiveness of a young man whom He had "disappointed" in life. A PERFECT God seeking the forgiveness of a man not worthy of God's forgiveness (though He freely gives it) is completely unbiblical. It's all packaged in a "He would do it to make you OK" type situation. No, He wouldn't. He would heal you, but not by lying.

The story was interesting. The way it was written was a nice read. But there were things within the book that I could not get past (such at the example above).

The thing that really intrigued me about this book was the word CIA in the title. Before I began reading, I thought it was going to be a story about Ian and how he worked for the CIA, and how he was able to maintain being a Christian, while working for the CIA. And his struggle with killing someone, and questioning if it's right in God's eyes.

And I was completely wrong.

The book was focused more on Ian's childhood and living with his alcoholic father (who was in the CIA). Throughout the entire book, I continually saw the need that Ian had for his father to accept and love him, and how his father never gave it to him.

Although every part of me wanted to know that his father one day would show him the love he deserved and wanted, it just never happened.

One night at a revival, Ian heard a voice say to him, "Forgive me, Ian," which really confused him. He asked a couple people how it was possible that God could ask him for forgiveness. He couldn't get a straight answer, until he talked to Miss Annie. She told him about how God humbled Himself to become a man, and humbled Himself by dying on the cross for us. She then asked, "So why wouldn't Jesus humble himself and tell a boy he was sorry for letting him down if he knew it would heal his heart?" - Miss Annie

The book ended with a story of Ian and his three kids. You could tell that Ian was extremely interested in all of his kids lives, especially his 8 year old son, Aidan, and how he wasn't going to let his earthly dad dictate how he would treat his children, but instead would treat them the way his Heavenly Father would.

This book wasn't what I thought it was going to be, but it did make me appreciate the relationship I have with my father.

Ian is a great author and this book was an easy read. It's a great Sunday reader.

I have just finished reading this delightful and moving new book. I know Ian is a good writer (it was my privilege to be one of his first reviewers when Chasing Francis was published), and he is also a friend. So I would have read it come what may. But one chapter in, I was hooked: a proper read of this was no labour of love, I was simply captivated by Ian's lyrical language, his ability to weave anecdotes into legends, and to paint characters so that they climb right out of the pages in full technicolor.

The book begins and ends at an altar, and in between he tells the stories of his unfolding life. It's a mark of a good memoir, I think, that although the story is particular to the author, there is a complete sense of identity with the reader in the way the stories evince the recognisable emotions of growing up and finding one's place in the world - the longing of the isolated, clever kid to be accepted by his school friends, the agonised shame when a stranger discovers your family's darker secrets, the deep grief of loss, and moments of delirious joy in between. A story about setting off explosives in the woods becomes a tale of belonging; an adventure in which his mother takes him on a legendary roller-coaster and teaches him to face down the darkness leaps off the page like a parable of survival. It's a story of how the dark secrets of childhood need to be unleashed, and of the deep gratitude that flows from finding at last that from the jumble of pieces life throws at you, a cohesive pattern can emerge.

This book is a joy to read: not only did it make me laugh and cry, it also had that magical capacity, in the spaces between the lines, to cast shards of light back onto my own life. Thank you, Ian Morgan Cron, for a wonderful book.

Ian Cron's "memoir...of sorts" takes readers on an exhilerating roller coaster ride through his life. Cron's account reminds me of the opening lines of Frank McCourt's memoir Angela's Ashes where he asserts that the "happy childhood is hardly worth your while." The childhood of Cron doesn't challenge McCourt's line and proves well worth your while. Not only is his story worth the while. His writing is the kind of writing that, like Pat Conroy's writing, could make reading about a pretzel bag worth the while if he had written it. The writing is that good.

Although Cron cites novelist John Irving's admission that "all memoirs are false...we can always imagine a better detail than the one we can remember," I don't think this is the case with Cron, because I cannot imagine how anyone could make up the events of "Jesus, My Father and the CIA." This notwithstanding novelist James Dickey's assertion that once you write fiction...then everything you write is fiction. Dickey, I think had other reasons for not telling the truth. For Cron-also a novelist, it seems that he has shared his life and heart as best as he possibly could here, and it is at once heart-breaking and joyful.

Cron skillfully ties the events and stories together, so that readers know that in the midst of painful and tragic events that these are all bread crumbs leading Cron home to the Bread of Life where he finds not only himself but a father who was always the one hiding. Cron's book Chasing Francis, a fictional story of a pastor who seeks to discover the historical Francis of Assissi and finds his own true calling, was an inspiring and gripping novel. This memoir of sorts is inspiring and just as gripping as any first rate novel. It is the kind of book that in the initial and closing pages you drift off in thought about who you most want to give it to next.

A few intrusions by God and loving people into what by all reasons could have been a miserable, permanently self-destructive life have graciously saved Cron and made him a witness to the impossible possibility of abundant life here and now. I found myself siding with the adolescent Cron against a God who seems to have rejected Cron's prayers a thousand times. Then the unimagined happens and Cron hears God speak what must have been the only words that could draw him back, and there I was with Cron saying "Yes" to God.

It doesn't matter if you have never heard of Ian Cron. If you appreciate good writing and great memoirs, I encourage you to read this book. If you read three books a year, read this one. If you have a stack of 56 books you are hoping to get through by the end of the year, place this one at the top and read it next.

This is a great portrait of what it feels like to grow up with alcoholic parents--the troubles, the fears, and the urge to eventually live past it.

This book was not what I expected, but it was well worth the read. I thought it would have focussed more on his Dad's involvement with the CIA and his Dad's relationship with Jesus, but was more focussed on his own childhood. It was hysterically funny, and then very sad. Can't wait to read more of his books.

Ian Morgan Cron's memoir of sorts chronicles his life as best he can remember, and sometimes even better than his best memories, as he freely admits to some elaboration in the introduction. It all begins as he muses over a picture of him in a boat when he was two on a family vacation, and the story ends in the present with him on a family vacation with his own children.

Cron's writing reminds me a lot of John Updike in style and content, or I should say John Updike in reverse. While Updike usually ends with some existential dig at God and Christianity, Cron ends with rebirth and triumph through Christ. Perhaps the similarity lies in that the two are both Episcopalian: one a parishioner, the other a priest, though it should be no surprise that Episcopalians produce such outstanding writers--they do stem from the denominational lineage of Shakespeare and Milton after all.

I sat down to read this book. When I finished the first chapter, I was astonished. The writing was good. Not just passable like other Christian novels I've read but literary good. Cron's writing is unparalleled in modern Christian publishing. It was so good, that I read the whole book out loud, chapter by chapter, with my wife at bedtime.

The best part is that not only is the writing good, but his story is absolutely engulfing. Cron made us laugh at the absurdities of his dysfunctional family, cry in his pain, rejoice in his new birth in Christ, and pray over the struggles he still faces in his new life.

I don't know how much more glowing a review could be, but if you're looking for a good read that is a raw look at grace in process, Jesus, My Father, The CIA, and Me is the book for you.

I received a free copy of the book from the publisher for review. All opinions are my own. This review was originally published on my blog, Manifest Blog: Entering the Manifest Presence of the Divine.

This book is incredibly well written, full of sly wit and sharp in its storytelling. Mr.Cron does not paint a dull or predictable Christian book, instead he writes in real life with all the flavor that life is served up in. I could feel the tension he had with his father, his desire to live in truth, and his journey to actually finding truth for himself. It is rare, sadly, to find a Christian perspective written about with such raw honesty, holding nothing back, and not injecting pithy Christian cliches into real life stories. This book feels so authentic, and yet Cron admits in the very beginning that this is written many years removed from the actual events. So he writes as he remembers events more so than identical fact. I believe this helps the author weave the book together almost flawlessly, and adds the perfect amount of wit and charm. Well done Mr. Cron, I hope there are many more books to come after this excellent entry.

Recently while perusing the Netflix movie site, one of those listings of "Suggested Films for Brad" popped up. The heading read: "Dysfunctional family dramas with a strong male lead." Ah, Netflix, you know me so well. Evidently, so does Ian Morgan Cron.

We know each other when we meet.

Cron writes that "boys who grow up fatherless, or boys with fathers who for some reason keep their love undisclosed, grow up without a center of gravity. They float like astronauts in space, hoping to find ballast and a patch of earth where they can plant their feet and make a life . . . . We know each other when we meet." And like war veterans, we have fought our own unique battles but we share a deep knowing of what war feels like. That's what made Cron's new book such a great read for me and will for others with related stories in need of redemption.

Something Better Than a Hero Story

I have to confess Cron had me at the title. But if the title leads you to anticipate tales of CIA intrigue you'll be mostly disappointed. Instead, you will get something better.

Cron offers us a candid "memoir ... of sorts" that attempts to come to terms with what his life "was or wasn't" while growing up with a brilliant but enigmatic, alcoholic father. Like other post-modern writers willing to confess only an approximation of memory, the author asks simply that we accept the gift of his coming of age story as he best remembers it. Why that matters is because it sets a tone of authenticity that connects deeply with each of us who share the same struggle to get our stories right, especially the painful, confusing and unfinished parts.

The gift of Cron's storytelling keeps his writing from becoming overly dark or evocative of mere pity. His humor, warmth and attention to cultural references make his work read more like a script from "The Wonder Years," but with a pastoral and therapeutic touch. I generally read with a pen in hand to mark vivid turns of phrase. With Cron, I feared I would run out of ink. Every few paragraphs I would find something to pause over, savoring characterizations such as "if sympathy were a religion, Mark would have been an atheist" or "Leonard was patient zero for attention deficit disorder." Knowing now that he has been influenced by Frederick Buechner, Anne Lamott and Jean Shepherd, I see where he gets his love for word play.

Along with exploring his relationship with his father, Cron discloses his own fitful journey into self-awareness as a person "out of true," first as a son of an alcoholic who discovers his own pre-teen euphoria over Tang-screwdrivers and later as a performance-obsessed youth who desperately seeks to win approval. Cron goes on to share how he was forced to come to grips with his repressed anxiety after his father's death and painstakingly work out forgiveness and healing. Through it all, he confesses his lifelong thirst after God and the life-giving consolation he has found in the Eucharistic experience of brokenness being made whole. Quoting Eugene O'Neil, he writes, `"Man is born broken. He lives by mending. The grace of God is glue . . . ." This [the Eucharist] is my glue.'

Take the Tour

I commend this book to church leaders, youth workers and caring friends who are gratefully unfamiliar with this emotional off-road tour of an alcoholic family. I also commend it to those who know the territory all too well in hopes that this story might cut loose any emotional moorings that may still keep your life from soaring. As an Episcopal priest, psychotherapist and devote of spiritual practice, Cron offers us hope without sentimentality, faith bolstered by a gritty understanding of persons, and most of all, the hard-earned vision that sees the sacred thread that runs through all of our experience.

~ This review first appeared at faithvillage.com