From Publishers Weekly
After the birth of his first child, bestselling writer Lewis (
Moneyball) felt he was a stranger in a strange land, puzzled at the gap between what he thought he should be feeling and what he actually felt. While he expected to be overcome by joy, he often felt puzzled; expecting to feel worried over a child's illness or behavior, he often felt indifferent. Lewis attempts to capture the triumphs, failures, humor, frustration and exhilaration of being a new father during the first year of each of his three children's lives. In one especially hilarious moment, Lewis is in a hotel pool in Bermuda distantly observing his children. When some older boys start teasing his oldest daughter, the youngest daughter, three years old at the time, lets fly a string of profanities at the top of her lungs. The boys retreat and then regroup for a second attack; when they return, she lets fly another string and tells them that she has peed in the pool, causing the boys to go away. All the while, Lewis watches from afar, too embarrassed to claim this youngster as his own but also proud that she has handled herself so smartly. Although Lewis is correct that his fatherhood moments might be more interesting to him than to anyone else, his reflections capture both the unease and the excitement that fatherhood brings.
(June) Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
From The Washington Post
From The Washington Post's Book World/washingtonpost.com Reviewed by Amy Joyce Let's get this straight: Michael Lewis is not his father. So who is this father of three? He's still trying to figure that out. And lucky us, we get to go along for the journey. Like many other middle-aged men, Lewis, who writes about sports and finance, is a little stuck between roles. On one side is the generation of his father, who once told him, "I didn't even talk to you until you went away to college." On the other side is the new generation of dads, who will read this book as "a snapshot of what I assume will one day be looked back upon as a kind of Dark Age of Fatherhood," Lewis writes. "Obviously, we're in the midst of some long unhappy transition between the model of fatherhood as practiced by my father and some ideal model." The fact is, in this delightful book, Lewis doesn't fit that ideal model, but he's clearly a man who spends his days figuring out how to come close. From the first laugh-out-loud anecdote about his toddler daughter fending off bully boys with words that make Lewis blush and beam, to his wife's nightmarish postpartum depression, he illustrates the life of a modern-day dad who is, yes, much more hands-on than his father, but who still tries to justify not spending time with his second infant after birth. (Hey, he has a book to write, and it's not like she'll miss him at that blob age!) When each of Lewis's children was born, he kept a record of what actually happened -- wisely, since we all know something makes us block out much of that early time (probably so we'll reproduce again). "Home Game" is the result of those records. And in that sense, it's similar to Anne Lamott's wonderful "Operating Instructions." It's hard to believe anything could compare to her painfully and wonderfully honest book about the first year of her son's life. But here it is. And in a dad's voice, no less. How so not our father's generation. In "The Book of Dads" some of your favorite authors (Rick Bragg, Charles Baxter, Nick Flynn) describe how they raised their kids, thought about raising their kids and tried not to raise their kids the way their own fathers did. These involved and thoughtful dads share insights dark, deep, light and mesmerizing. In one lovely essay, Anthony Doerr points out the difference between raising twins in the United States vs. in Italy: "In the States, practically every time someone would stop us on the street or in the grocery store, they'd gesture at the stroller and say, 'Twins? Bet you have your hands full.' . . . To be reminded of something you can't forget is debilitating." "I prefer the Italian mothers," he writes, "who lean over the stroller and whisper, 'So beautiful.' . . . The old Roman who stopped us today outside the cemetery and grinned at Henry and Owen before shaking my hand and saying, with a half bow, 'Complimenti.' My compliments." Other essays are very funny, as when Neal Pollack's son broke a toy at a store and he told the cashier he wanted to give his son a lesson in morality. "I turned to the counter guy. 'How much do I owe you?' " 'Two bucks,' he said. " 'Oh, thank God,' I said. I hate it when doing the right thing costs more than five bucks." There's also a touching essay by Jennifer Finney Boylan, a transsexual with two sons who decided to call him Maddy. "That's like, half Mommy, and half Daddy," says Luke. "And anyhow, I know a girl at school named Maddy. She's pretty nice." In another piece, Brandon R. Schrand tells a triumphant tale of overcoming alcoholism and moving away from the dark shadow of a deceased ex-con father to become a loving dad. This entertaining and thoughtful collection will reassure fathers of all ages that they are, if nothing else, not alone.
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