| Title | : | Dad's Maybe Book |
| Author | : | |
| Rating | : | |
| ISBN | : | 0618039708 |
| ISBN-10 | : | 9780618039708 |
| Language | : | English |
| Format Type | : | Hardcover |
| Number of Pages | : | 400 |
| Publication | : | First published October 14, 2019 |
“We are all writing our maybe books full of maybe tomorrows, and each maybe tomorrow brings another maybe tomorrow, and then another, until the last line of the last page receives its period.”
In 2003, already an older father, National Book Award–winning novelist Tim O’Brien resolved to give his young sons what he wished his own father had given to him—a few scraps of paper signed “Love, Dad.” Maybe a word of advice. Maybe a sentence or two about some long-ago Christmas Eve. Maybe some scattered glimpses of their rapidly aging father, a man they might never really know. For the next fifteen years, the author talked to his sons on paper, as if they were adults, imagining what they might want to hear from a father who was no longer among the living.
O’Brien traverses the great variety of human experience and emotion, moving from soccer games to warfare to risqué lullabies, from alcoholism to magic shows to history lessons to bittersweet bedtime stories, but always returning to a father’s soul-saving love for his sons.
The result is Dad’s Maybe Book, a funny, tender, wise, and enduring literary achievement that will squeeze the reader’s heart with joy and recognition.
Dad's Maybe Book Reviews
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The thing about 5-star reviews is you can't trust them. They are as much about the reader as they are about the book. And yes, you can buy or borrow the same book, but there's no buying or borrowing the reader whom the 5 stars are filtered through (sorry, I'm unavailable, not to mention not worth the trouble).
This odd bodkin of a book is a classic example of the trouble with 5's. On the surface, it's an aging dad's book of advice and profession of love for his two sons. This writer is Tim O'Brien, most famous for his short story collection
The Things They Carried. Now in his 70s and a father to sons just entering their teens, O'Brien worries about not being around long enough to witness all the milestones younger fathers enjoy. And so, the book in a nutshell: things he wants to tell them---not only about himself, but about life---before it's too late.
Dad's Maybe Book gets its title from Son #2, Tad. Apparently O'Brien worked off and on at this book for over a decade. Maybe it will make it to publication and maybe not, in other words, so Tad says, "Call it your Maybe Book." Yet here it is, so it's maybe yes.
For the first hundred pages, I was indulging O'Brien. It was all about his and his wife's woes raising a colicky baby, Son #1 Timmy. On and on with the descriptions of parents at wit's end. Anyone who has listened to parents go on and on about their kids (or, worse, a couple go on and on about their pets that they are treating like kids) knows that this is one of Dante's Circles of Hell. But I hung in there, and I'm glad I did.
See, as the kids get older, O'Brien starts to talk about the things HE carries. His experience in Vietnam, for instance. His feelings about war. His opinions about writing. Repeated riffs on Hemingway short stories.
Back to the 5-star warning: O'Brien is preaching to my own private choir. Like him, I'm old (if not AS old). Like him, I have a son (though also a daughter and not two sons). Like him, I worry about early exits and missing things I don't want to miss. Like him, I grew up reading Hemingway and reading about Hemingway. And like him, I have mixed feelings about EH. Finally, all the riffs about sports, parenting, the history of war, reading, and writing are things that are meaningful. To me.
And that's the crux of the matter. Despite the slow start, once it hits its stride, this book seems almost written for me, a guy who agrees with O'Brien in every way about the war (which he redefines as "killing people, including children"). There's a marvelous chapter where he compares his experience in Vietnam with the British soldiers' experience at Lexington and Concord. The feelings of superiority. The outrage at an enemy that fought "dirty," from behind trees, walls, rocks. The way outrage fed anger fed hatred fed atrocities. The way euphemisms make one side God's side, all right and noble, and the other side bloodthirsty terrorists.
O'Brien doesn't buy it. He sympathizes with the Vietnamese and the British as well as with the Americans (his own Alpha company) and the New England colonists. A death is a death. A murdered child is a murdered child. There is nothing noble about the enterprise.
O'Brien's critique of Hemingway was wonderful, too. He assigns Ernie H.'s stories to Timmy and Tad, who complain that "nothing happens." He revisits the stories through their eyes. He revisits his own opinions about war by rereading Hemingway's "war" stories, only to conclude that they are not really stories about war, after all (same goes for the novels). I won't be a spoiler, but trust me when I say he's quite convincing when telling us that Hemingway's great topic was something entirely different.
Anyway, just because it's a 5-star for me (it hits all my favorite things) doesn't mean it'll do the same for you. Thus the distrust of the number 5.
It might even be more of a Father's Day book. Or a writer's book. Who knows? I only know one thing. If you're a dad and have kids, you'll probably get a little misty eyed at the end.
That's a 5-star "if," I guess. -
Superb writing on a tender subject. Tim O'Brien articulates the varied anxieties and occasions for pride in the life of a father. Highly recommended as a gift for dads with a literary disposition.
4 stars. Truly moving work, if a little repetitive. O'Brien is in top form when he's speaking broadly, addressing the sameness that underlies human experience and connects us one and all, but when his focus narrows to the singular experience of his own family he gets a bit too niche and that universal appeal dips. Still, some profound thoughts on mortality set against the backdrop of fatherhood make this a valuable read. -
Phenomenal.
I could stop my review there, and perhaps should, but I can't stop myself from going a bit further. As a disclaimer/caveat: THE THINGS THEY CARRIED is one of my favorite books, it is my favorite to teach, and I come back to it often for its literary brilliance and, most importantly, its insights about life and death. So, I was predisposed to love DAD'S MAYBE BOOK, a memoirish-type book that started as a series of letters from O'Brien to his sons, but which evolved (over almost two decades) to a profound introspective dissection of life itself, society, Vietnam, and the power and importance of story.
I suppose I'm in O'Brien's choir and he can preach at me all day and I'll ask for more, but that doesn't, and shouldn't, detract from the power of this work. I don't have children, but I had a father, and the love O'Brien feels for his children is beautifully—and realistically—portrayed. This book is not, despite its cute-looking cover, a feel-good Hallmark Card: it is an honest appraisal of parenthood, and it is an intellectual and gut-stirring literary masterpiece that shies from nothing. O'Brien pulls no punches. He leaves it all out on the proverbial field, for he has no reason to show restraint . . . his death is as close now as it was when he was a soldier in Vietnam. And for a writer, that is incredibly freeing.
He gives us all the advice a writer needs. He shares hilarious anecdotes. He gets revenge. He advocates for societal change. He strips bare his soul and challenges us to do likewise. He analyzes Hemingway, ponders consciousness, and examines story-power.
This book warms the heart, stimulates the mind, slaps the face, punches the gut, kicks the groin, throws dirt in the face, and holds out a helping hand, and embraces, and promises us it'll be okay.
I'm reminded of James Dickey who said in an interview that he hates when people question his pursuit of "touchy-feely" poetry, telling him to "come off it," and Dickey declares, "I don't want to come off it. I want to get on it. I mean, really."
Which is precisely what O'Brien does here.
As a final note, the book has only just come out, but the audio was available yesterday, and so in a twenty-four hour period I listened to O'Brien narrate his 12-hour book. I can think of no better way to spend a day.
And now I will buy a hardcover and read the book again. -
https://rogueliterarysociety.com/f/da...
...Seems impossible, doesn’t it? But even as adults, we salvage precious little from our own lives. Vividly lived-in minutes and hours seem to erase themselves as we scurry toward eternity⸺the meal savored, the joke that had us laughing all night, the TV program that held us transfixed. Almost all of it is lost...It would be nice to find shape or some sort of modest unity in my threadbare recollections, but I’m resigned to the sad fact that memory⸺at least my memory⸺is less a movie than a scrapbook of motheaten images and garbled audio clips…
Amen to that paragraph. Tim O’Brien is being brutally honest and does so throughout the entire book. Well, at least he tries, as he also admits that he isn’t sure a lot of the time regarding his memory. Life can get confusing. Especially the longer one lives. But O’Brien is attempting to leave something of substance for his sons to chew on, to consider one day, and his wisdom is based on life experience and current as well as past social norms. In general, what is expected of us even if it does not make sense. In other words it is good to question even authority.
...A writer performs the act of sitting down to be wholly present, wholly receptive, as the fingers and the mind prepare for those occasions when language and imagination miraculously begin to fuse...This is not to claim that the sitting down is all good fun. It is almost always painful. You will wait and wait. You will fidget. You will mutter to yourself. You will compose mediocre sentences, repair them, and then throw them away…
Tim O’Brien has spent a good portion of his life as a writer and he wants his children to know it has not been easy. Neither his being in war, or being at war, or watching history repeat itself. Knowing he is running out of time and being what is considered an older father at seventy, O’Brien feels the need to get his memories down on paper as best he can as he will not be around for his sons to ask him questions later in their lives.
...there is the burden of being human, which is the burden of consciousness, which is the burden of knowing the lights will go out and that the café will close its doors...A writer of stories does not only write about the world as it is, but also the world as it almost is or as it could be or as it should be…Memory speaks, yes. But it stutters…
The novels of Tim O’Brien are definitely worth reading, but this memoir, this open diary to his sons may be his best work. At least for this reader. Hardly a page or a sentence worth skipping. He even produces a bit of lively literary criticism of writers such as Ernest Hemingway to just name one.
...I might easily have ignored the entire notion of confidence, or I might at least have sought more compassion. Call it retribution, call it distributive justice, but we get what we give…our boots making sucking sounds in the foul paddy slush…Sentences don’t do shit. We just keep killing and killing, always for godly reasons⸺just as the enemy kills for its own godly reasons⸺and then we all stagger up Main Street with our walkers and war stories and watery old-man nostalgia…
Tim O’Brien went on a bit of a tirade here for several pages and I am glad he did. He needed to get this off his chest, make his kids see one day how much the war had affected him, how much it continues to do so, and how idiotic it is that our country, and the world, continues in this barbaric behavior of killing children.
...Among the strange and bitter ironies that have visited me over these seven decades is the certainty that I will be remembered, if I am remembered at all, as a war writer, despite my hatred for war, despite my ineptitude at war, despite my abiding shame at having participated in war, and despite the fact that I am in no way a spokesman or a “voice” for the 2.6 million American military personnel who served in Vietnam from August 1964 to May 1975…
I am sure there will be many, if they actually read this book, who will not think kindly on Mr. O’Brien. But I do. He is a hero to me, a war hero, and obviously a very loving father and person. But like my own self, all that hatred inside for the bad others needs to go, or be cleansed, washed away, or perhaps a new dawn enters with peace and love for our fellow man. My wish is for Tim O’Brien to continue living for a very long time. We all need him, not just his sons.
...Do not worry about accomplishment. Accomplishment will follow where playfulness takes you. Besides, you’ve already accomplished so much. You’ve delivered joy to a man who once believed there would be no more... -
"I propose we eliminate the word 'war' from our vocabulary and substitute the words 'killing people, including children.' … Theaters of war will become theaters of people-killing, including children." Words like these from this book move me to tears.
Tim O'Brien fought in my country, against my people, yet he is one of my most favorite authors. I love Tim O'Brien and his books because he is the ambassador for peace, and peace is what the world needs most right now. -
Tim O’Brien opens the book on the challenges and tribulations of parenting from a deeply introspective place by weaving the past into his present moments of raising two sons, with caution and advice for the taking. It made me a better Dad. Thanks Tim for sharing your narrative gifts and personal storytelling. Rob
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I read this whole thing in two sittings. I almost couldn't put it down, not because of a compelling plot or interesting characters, but because Tim O'Brien is, to my mind, (among) the best sentence crafter(s) I've ever read.
The book is ostensibly a love letter to O'Brien's two children with bits of advice and some explanation of who O'Brien is (O'Brien, having had his kids so late in life, worries that they will never really know him). The book is that. It fulfills that purpose well and I don't think one needs to have children to appreciate it. But through his explanations of himself, O'Brien does a few other things with this book.
First, it acts as a follow-up to
If I Die in a Combat Zone, Box Me Up and Ship Me Home, O'Brien's memoir written as a much younger man whose experiences with Vietnam were still fresh. Here he grapples with the ways that he is still affected by that trauma five decades removed. He talks (sometimes with great disdain) about being labeled A War Writer or A Vietnam Writer. In one great passage he writes, "A war writer, and more narrowly a Vietnam writer, and so it will always be. It's my own fault. I could have said no; I should have said no. There is a sting, though, to the knowledge that the worst thing that ever happened to me will determine almost the entire content of my obituary."
He writes about authors' intent versus audience reception as he offers examples of people who read his work and come away ready to enlist and THEY THANK HIM FOR IT! How? Are they not reading the same books I am? He writes about meeting up with those remaining war buddies of his who are still alive. He writes about how Vietnam vets almost all hate his work, even his own friends.
Second, the book is a meditation on aging and death. Without flipping back through to find the exact number, O'Brien was in his 60s when his first kid was born. Much of the book is a lamentation about what he will not be able to experience with his kids, about how he escaped death back in the turbulent 1960s, witnessed death, dealt death, and dealt with the resulting trauma of all of that, including so much guilt and shame. He still carries those.
Third, the book discusses the craft of writing. We read about O'Brien's process as a writer. We learn why it takes so long for him to produce content. We learn that most of the time, he seems to hate writing. Another passage would be illustrative here:
I resented the loneliness and aloneness; I resented the pitiless subjectivity of it all. What had once been fun for me--tedious fun, frustrating fun--had hardened into something edging up on hatred. At this very instant the hatred bubbles. Should the word "hardened" be replaced by the word "evolved"? Yes? No? Screw it--keep going. Is the word "awaken" too poetic, too precious? Yes. Probably. No. Probably. With every syllable I try to talk myself out of writing the next syllable.
As I stated earlier, O'Brien is probably my favorite sentence crafter ever, and that passage highlights why, as does the following. He begins by quoting Conrad: "A work that aspires, however humbly, to the condition of art should carry its justification in every line." Here the quote ends and O'Brien emends Conrad with "To this, one might reasonably add: every word, every syllable." That's why he's so good, that's why he takes forever, that's why he's frustrated. He cares about every single syllable being right. He's a perfectionist who feels like he still hasn't found it.
To conclude with this topic of craft and process, I think it becomes pretty clear that this is probably the final book we're getting from O'Brien.
Finally, the book is also literary criticism. One of the most impactful writers throughout O'Brien's life, it appears, is Hemingway, and so he takes time in several chapters to dissect the work of Hemingway. I can see many not much caring for these chapters if they don't like Hemingway at least a little, and they might seem, at first, like a diversion from the book's purpose. In these tangents, O'Brien really is sticking to the purpose. He believes that getting his kids to understand the books that have impacted him will help them understand him. For the reader too, it is interesting to see O'Brien make connections and distinctions between the way he has written about war and how Hemingway has. We get to know O'Brien a little more through the work of Hemingway. And if you appreciate O'Brien's work as much as I do, you want to hear what he has to say about literature and writers, especially one of the giants.
I guess that last part wasn't really a Finally...
Finally, the book is funny too. O'Brien has great anecdotes about fatherhood, about kids saying and doing ridiculous things, about encounters with readers. We also learn that O'Brien's kids (in their teens by book's end) have never read or asked a single question about their father's work. This intrigues me. I want to hear from them when they're older. Why didn't they read it? Why didn't they ask? Did they eventually read it and did it change how they think about their dad? -
Everyone should be given the opportunity to experience such fierce fatherly love. So much attention always seems to be focused on the mom and her intense and protective love. Fathers are often overlooked for their steady, guiding hands. A beautiful love story
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I can imagine that some readers will like this book less than I did, but here's why I loved it:
1) I'm a fan of Tim O'Brien's work. Going After Cacciato is one of the greatest books of the 20th Century, and The Things They Carried is a classic, too. (Not to mention all of O'Brien's other books, each of which I've thoroughly enjoyed and admired.)
2) I had the privilege of working with O'Brien in a workshop at the Sewanee Writers' Conference and found him to be a wonderful and supportive teacher. I learned more than I thought possible in those sessions.
3) At Sewanee, I heard some of the stories that come through in this book, which is part love-letter to his sons, part memoir, part anti-war screed (too harsh a word, but he does have strong views), and part writing advice. You can read it for any of those elements, but you'll benefit from them all. -
Tim O’Brien is my favorite living author. Oh, and I met him tonight. Yes, I met him.
-
I read "The Things They Carried" a few years ago, and lately I've been reading Tim O'Brien's other published books. All of them. But only while listening to this one did I realize there was a 17-year gap between his latest (this) and penultimate books. It seems he relinquished writing books--and generally his routined existence as a writer--to parent. Those years of parenting are the basis for this book, which is part-writing craft, part-sad anecdotes of someone who is aware of his approaching end, part-sad anecdotes of an older father who is aware that there are few other fathers that old and who can't help comparing himself to them, part-general memoir, and part-love letter to his children and life. It's beautiful at times. It also reinforces my theory that part of the reason for writing all memoirs, even probably my own many years ago, is that we just have some things we need to say.
A proper story doesn't align with just having some things we need to say, which means all memoirs stray beyond where they should stray. That definitely includes this one. At times it feels like one big stray. And at times part of me wished I didn't start reading this because, as they say, never meet your heroes because you'll be disappointed. I felt a bit disappointed while reading this because one of my favorite quotes is from O'Brien, and this book seems hypocritical to that quote every time O'Brien preaches: "Can the foot soldier teach anything important about war, merely for having been there? I think not. He can tell war stories.”
But towards the end, O'Brien stops preaching, the book tightens, and it's all worth the long read or listen. -
"I want you to remember that the word 'truth' can kill."
Man, how is this guy so good at this? Tim O'Brien makes me feel embarrassed for even thinking about writing.
Here is Tim O'Brien, one of America's most talented authors, writing one last book to connect with his sons at some future date when he won't be able to in person. His "maybe" book covers fatherhood, the nature of truth, and appreciating literature, all subjects that are frequently on my mind. Like O'Brien, I worry about my kids' future and how they will encounter the ugliness in the world. O'Brien doesn't necessarily offer any answers to these fears, but it feels good to read someone wrestling with them so eloquently.
I want to read this book again and again until I absorb everything O'Brien says about absolutism, truth, having two heads, understanding literature, war, and communicating with your kids. Even without rereading it, I will be thinking about this one for a long time to come.
"The essential object of fiction is not to explain. Explanation narrows. Explanation fixes. Explanation dissolves mystery. Explanation imposes artificial, arrogant order on human contradictions between fact and fact. The essential object of fiction is to embrace and widen and deepen all that is unknown and unknowable—who we are, why we are—and to offer us late-night company as we lie awake pondering our universal journey down the birth canal, and out into the light, and then toward the grave. In a story, explanation is like joining a magician backstage. The mysterious becomes mechanical. The miracle becomes banal. Delight vanishes. Wonder vanishes. What was once surprising, even beautiful, devolves into tired causality. One might as well be washing dishes." -
O'Brien knows how to write. His writing is much less structured than I'm used to, but it's often beautiful to read and has a unique and refreshing style. I struggled a bit getting through the book since it doesn't follow a typical narrative arch. This was also how I felt about The Things They Carried. The chapters got somewhat tedious for me about half way through since I need more of a plot to hold my attention.
That said, the writing is good enough to make the book worth reading. O'Brien mixes in thoughts on and experience with parenthood, the innocence and inquisitiveness of children, how to write well, some politics, appreciation for Ernest Hemmingway (and good writing in general), and LOTS of anti-war and Vietnam regret.
I've never considered myself "anti-war," but perhaps I should be more so. I appreciated some of the thoughts on war from someone who has been there and didn't want to be. Certainly there are reasons for war that make it necessary -- this book covers zero of those, but I've read plenty of reasons for war and glorification of war in other books, so I'm fine with the author not covering it.
Perhaps the main thought I had after reading this book is: What do I want my children to learn from me before I'm gone? O'Brien wrote this book so his two boys would know him and understand him better and perhaps take away some lessons he wanted them to learn. What am I passing on to my kids and how am I doing it? -
I wish there were more than 5 stars to give. Like most of the Tim O’Brien books I have read, this book made me laugh and cry. It made me frustrated and perplexed. It made me long to understand things I never will, and it made me nod furiously in agreement. This book, however, I could actually relate to (unlike The Things They Carried). Though I am not a 70 year old parent of teenagers, I feel many of the same things and have the same hopes and dreams and fears for my son.
I don’t think you have to be a parent to read this book to enjoy it anymore than you need to have served in Vietnam to have enjoyed his others. But this book spoke to me on a different level. It was truly beautiful, and I was honestly sad when it it was over. I will definitely read it again... and be just as sad when I finish it again. -
Tim O’Brien is one of my favorite writers. I've read everything he's written. While he's most famous for The Things They Carried, I'd put Going After Cacciato, In The Lake Of The Woods, and If I Die In A Combat Zone in the same league.
Tim O'Brien became a father for the first time when he was already in his late 50s. With his own mortality looming in the back of his mind as he watched his two sons grow up, he started writing them letters so that, as adults, they would have something of his to share, in his absence.
This book is a published collection of those letters. It’s a hodgepodge. Many chapters are only a page long, sharing quirky and funny things his sons have done or said. Others are full-length essays about war, his childhood, the vocation of storytelling, and his family.
Some parts are a tad sentimental, a besotted father gushing about his two boys. But everything is thoughtful, considered, and well-written, and the sentimentality feels fully earned. Some parts are bitter, reflections about the nature of warfare, the ways in which conflict is sanitized for public consumption. He writes about Ernest Hemingway a lot, about all the things he loves and hates about Hemingway’s stories.
Coincidentally, I read this book concurrently with Between The World And Me by Ta-Nahesi Coates. There are some parallels. Both are written in the form of a letter to the author’s son(s). Both grapple with an aspect of life that is toxic, difficult, and intractable. In the case of Ta-Nahesi Coates it’s race in American society: what it means to be black, how that will affect his son’s life, what racism is, and how we ought to respond to it. In the case of O’Brien, it’s war, the killing of other human beings, the fear of dying, the irreparable tragedy of armed conflict, the inevitable moral degradation, the lies and hypocrisy that war engenders.
In Dad’s Maybe Book, there were two chapters that stood out to me. One was a comparison of the United States in Vietnam to the British in the War of Independence. Both were a global superpower, fighting in a provincial backwater, against an enemy that resorted to guerrilla tactics, and that had home field advantage. Both the United States and the British, of course, lost. It’s a stunning piece of writing.
The other chapter that stood out to me, entitled "War Buddies," was an essay about O'Brien's relationship with his fellow veterans. How he genuinely loves the men he served with, despite their political differences. For O'Brien, the Vietnam War was a shameful episode, a ghastly blunder, a cautionary tale of hubris and arrogance that resulted in 3 million deaths. For most of his fellow Veterans, the meaning they derive from their service is about duty and honor, and they don't seem to worry much about whether the war was justified in the first place.
In various ways, to various degrees, virtually everything I’ve written over the past several pages will seriously irritate a large number of Vietnam veterans. A substantial majority, I’d guess. And beyond any doubt it will irritate one particular Vietnam veteran, a man who declared in a 2016 letter to the Austin American-Statesman: “For me, the war was never about right or wrong but duty and honoring my uniform.
Three million dead people.
Never about right or wrong.
Despite the jumbled, ad hoc quality of this book, I found it quite moving. His thoughts on war and writing always read as an ongoing struggle for honesty, for truth, for clarity, underscored with a deep humility, that the full truth can never be attained, that full honesty is impossible. But it seems that at the end of a turbulent life wrestling with the meaning of war and his role in it, O'Brien found contentment as a family man.
O'Brien is known for being a former soldier. I hope he is remembered as a loving father.
Here are some quotes:
“Watch out for absolutism . . . Be suspicious of slogans and platitudes and generalizations of any sort . . . seek the exceptions. Memorize the fallacy of composition. Remember that even mathematicians demand proofs. Raise your eyebrows when you hear the phrase “courage of conviction.” Remember that Adolf Hitler and the executioners at Salem had the courage of lunatic conviction.”
“You were born, Timmy, in a time of epidemic terror—airliners crashing into skyscrapers, anthrax arriving in the morning mail—and among the casualties of terror is our fragile tolerance for ambiguity and uncertainty and all that is unknown. . . . I realize, Timmy, that in the coming years you, too, like our country at the moment, will find yourself terrified—of love, of commitment, of madmen, of monsters in your closet, of me—and tonight I’m asking only that you remain human in your terror, that you preserve the gifts of decency and modesty, and that you do not permit arrogance to overwhelm the possibility that you may be wrong as often as you are right.”
“I want you to remember that truths can be contradictory. I could tell you, Timmy, that you live in a great and good country, and I would be telling the truth. But I could also tell you that ours is country that once permitted the enslavement of human beings, and that too would be true."
“A man is what he thinks about.”
“I may not always be available to offer advice, so I’ll offer it now: Pretend your life is a story. Then write a good one.”
“We will never run short of things to kill for. We will never run short of lies. We will never run short of dead-sure, beyond-a-doubt liars in public places . . . It is hopeless. But pretend it is not.” -
There seems to be a never-ending stream of books about WWII. I have always wanted to hear more about the Vietnam experience, so I was interested in this book. And, indeed, those are the sections/chapters I was most interested in. Tim O'Brien remains conflicted about his participation in a war that he didn't want to fight. He seems most disappointed in himself for going, believing he went for reasons of pride or timidity or ennui. He circles around his year in Vietnam from start to finish in this book.
What I had forgotten is that I find Mr. O'Brien an unreliable narrator. I read The Things They Carried, and now recall that I didn't like the blurring of fiction and nonfiction. I think he is accurately depicting his Vietnam experience in this book, but I don't really know, given that the book starts off with a fictional account of his son's first words. From then on, I didn't want to immerse myself in his narrative, not being certain of the veracity of his account.
To enjoy this book fully, you need to want to hear a lot about Mr. O'Brien's love for his two sons. But all our kids are perceptive and say cute things -- they're all above average, as Garrison Keillor would say -- so I kind of skipped all that material. As someone once told me, we pretend to care about other people's children just so we can talk about our own.
The one thing you might want to do before reading this book is to bone up on your Hemingway and on classic short stories. Mr. O'Brien endlessly parses Hemingway and forces the author on his sons. I had no experience of my parents reading or advising me what to read. I would have liked some guidance. But Mr. O'Brien's relentless efforts to engage his sons with Hemingway's writing would have sent me screaming in the other direction.
In all, I found the book somewhat unfocused, but I'm guessing that's just Mr. O'Brien's style, and you either like it or you don't. -
"We expect to instruct our children and are surprised to find them instrucitng us."
This is a tricky review for me to write because I wish I would have had more time to copy down a bunch of quotes from the book before I had to return it and I think I just felt a bit rushed in general trying to get through it before I had to return it the library. Bottom line is, I really enjoyed this book and would read it again and recommend it--espeically to parents, or kids. So, basically, I think most people could come away from this book with an improved perspective as it's a book that makes you think.
To get a bit more detailed, Tim O'Brien writes this books to his boys (and the rest of us benefit) as he knows he won't be around through their adult years. I had so many bookmarks in the audiobook (which O'Brien reads himself), but didn't have time to copy them down. I guess I need to get myself a hardcopy and highlighter and go through it again. In typical O'Brien fashion, the writing is outstanding and I found myself laughing, thinking, and crying, oftentimes within minutes of each other.
I could relate to some of his parenting stories (and am sure I'll be able to relate to more down the road) and also found myself thinking about my parents. I found myself thinking about literature, the process of writing, war, Hemmingway, lesson plans for my kids, truth, and so much more. All in all, I'd definitley recommend this. -
Dad's Maybe Book is an unusual read. Not quite a memoir, not quite a collection of short stories, not quite a novel. But even without any primer for how to read this book (as it's certainly different from O'Brien's other work), each sentence is intimate, meaningful, and heartfelt, as though the narrator has spent all his life thinking about what he would say to his children on his death bed. Essentially, that's what this book is: O'Brien's words to his children. All the things he isn't able to say to them now and all the things he hopes for who they'll be long after O'Brien has died. More than words of wisdom, O'Brien shares his life honestly with his children (and the reader), and in that, I felt I was given space to reflect on what I want for myself.
I'm afraid I'm being too vague in this review, but I don't think O'Brien would be upset with that. He does, after all, give permission to be comfortable in ambiguity and uncertainty. Without those nebulous things, we wouldn't be challenged to grow and learn and improve ourselves. If we stay in them long enough, uncertain of where we stand, we might eventually find the right words, the right question that will guide us out.
And though I don't have children, and though I'm (hopefully) a long way away from death, I'm comforted by this father's letters. -
I envy O'Briens's sons. This is the perfect gift you can receive from your dad. Really enjoyed reading it. O'Brien writes great prose and knows how to inject complicated sentiments into words. The only thing I did not really understand was the negligibly few nods to his wife and mother of his sons. Though he has written few moving words in acknowledgements at the end of the book, I am sure she was a an essential part of this family and fatherhood experience and deserved much more.
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Oh my goodness. At some point I may be able to write a review of this book, but for now I just need to be alone with my tears and gratitude for Tim O’Brien.
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I generally do not rate or comment on books. But this book is so different and so powerful, I will add some thoughts. It is unlike any other book I have read,. I was so moved by O'Brien's "The Things They Carried" and years later, reading this is a perfect companion. Personal about fatherhood, passionate about war, or as the author says we should rename the often romanticized process as "killing people ( including children), this book hit you. In the form of letters or essays to his children, the wisdom, pain, anger, and love come through on just about every page. Much of this is about authorship and the writing process and the reading process. A true gem, and one that works best after reading his masterpiece mentioned above. I loved this book.
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Objectively, this may be a 4-star book or even a 3-star book. It's not The Things They Carried. It's uneven and, sort of unavoidably, haphazard.
But it is, if you're what they call an "older father," right on the money. Even more so if you share with Tim O'Brien the same melancholy, the same obsession with time. You'll totally get what he admits is sentimentality and self-indulgence and the dark sense of urgency to do what you can before "the cafe closes." And, as ever, O'Brien drops astonishing insights and pointed critiques with potent, sober, careful prose. For this reader, Dad's Maybe Book came at just the right time. -
Tim O'Brien is arguably one of our greatest living writers, and if you haven't read any of his novels, I recommend that you do. But "Dad's Maybe Book" is not like any of them. It's part memoir, part epistolary, and always a love letter to his sons.
I found it fascinating to read about O'Brien's experiences becoming a father later in life. And I can understand his urge to leave something behind that is highly personal for his sons. I appreciate that he shared it with the world. -
As an older father, O'Brien worries that he may not get to share his memories and thoughts with his young sons. A writer, he drafts short essays about everything from looking at his newborn to Vietnam to his own father to whatever happens that day.
The sort of book that will answer some of the questions his sons will have after he's gone - but not all. -
This collection of reflections speaks to fatherhood, aging, and memory. Much like his fictional works, O’Brien explores the problem with “truth,” whether as a writer or the way in which we recall the experiences of our lives. This book worked for me on all levels - a perfect balance of personal storytelling that leads to introspection.
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I think Tim O’Brien is a gifted writer, and I often spend time in his passages appreciating good work. This book, however, was a mixed bag for me. It was some great writing and thoughtful assertions mixed with heavy-handed Hemingway literary comparisons. I had to sift through some of it to glean the best parts. Ultimately, though, it was worth the effort. I love this guy, and I’ll read anything he puts out.
