Dad's Maybe Book

August 15, 2019
Ruminations and reminiscences of an author--now in his 70s--about fatherhood, writing, and death. O'Brien (July, July, 2002, etc.), who achieved considerable literary fame with both Going After Cacciato (1978) and The Things They Carried (1990), returns with an eclectic assembly of pieces that grow increasingly valedictory as the idea of mortality creeps in. (The title comes from the author's uncertainty about his ability to assemble these pieces in a single volume.) He begins and ends with a letter: The initial one is to his first son (from 2003); the terminal one, to his two sons, both of whom are now teens (the present). Throughout the book, there are a number of recurring sections: "Home School" (lessons for his sons to accomplish), "The Magic Show" (about his long interest in magic), and "Pride" (about his feelings for his sons' accomplishments). O'Brien also writes often about his own father. One literary figure emerges as almost a member of the family: Ernest Hemingway. The author loves Hemingway's work (except when he doesn't) and often gives his sons some of Papa's most celebrated stories to read and think and write about. Near the end is a kind of stand-alone essay about Hemingway's writings about war and death, which O'Brien realizes is Hemingway's real subject. Other celebrated literary figures pop up in the text, including Elizabeth Bishop, Andrew Marvell, George Orwell, and Flannery O'Connor. Although O'Brien's strong anti-war feelings are prominent throughout, his principal interest is fatherhood--specifically, at becoming a father later in his life and realizing that he will miss so much of his sons' lives. He includes touching and amusing stories about his toddler sons, about the sadness he felt when his older son became a teen and began to distance himself, and about his anguish when his sons failed at something. A miscellany of paternal pride (and frustration) darkened by the author's increasing realizations of his mortality.

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September 1, 2019

Winner of the National Book Award in fiction for 1979's Going After Cacciato, O'Brien uses his deft skill of wordplay throughout this latest book. In 2003, after becoming a dad at an older age, O'Brien began to realize that he never really knew much about his own father. To alleviate this concern for his sons, he decided to write letters to them as if the boys were adults reading the letters many years later. This collection begins with O'Brien telling the story of his first son's initial month at home. The letters move on as the boys grow up, from fatherly concerns about his children's lack of aggressive competition in sports to paragraphs about silly conversations with them. He even provides advice on writing. Some of the letters are more serious, including sharing his personal experiences as a combatant in Vietnam and the aftermath of battle for veterans. The title is based on his son's suggestion that the letters could be collected in a "maybe book" written by his father. VERDICT Fans of parenting books, memoirs, and stories of Vietnam War veterans will find enjoyment in these heartfelt words.--Jason L. Steagall, Arapahoe Libraries, CO

Copyright 2019 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.

September 23, 2019
This tender memoir begins in 2003, when 58-year-old novelist O’Brien (The Things They Carried) has a one-year-old son and another one on the way. In the format of letters to his sons, he shares the joys of fatherhood, which are muted by the prospect that his children may know him only as an old man—or not know him at all (“Life is fragile. Hearts go still”). For the next 15 years, with the ashes of his father in an urn on his bookcase, O’Brien writes for his children what he wished his father had left him: “Some scraps of paper signed ‘Love Dad’.” O’Brien covers nights of colic, basketball games, and homework battles, but this is not a compendium of cute witticisms. He taps into the dark corners of his mind, sharing an analysis of, say, the parallels between the Battle of Lexington and Concord in 1775 and his 1969 tour of duty in Vietnam’s Quang Ngai Province. He then presents a well-reasoned argument for replacing the word “war” with the phrase “killing people, including children,” and war’s impact on culture. O’Brien concludes with a humorous, moving letter of instruction for his 100th birthday. With great candor, O’Brien succeeds in conveying the urgency parents may feel at any age, as they ready their children for life without them.

November 15, 2019
National Book Award?winner O'Brien became a father late in life and subsequently faced the sobering reality of his own mortality. One result is this love letter and book of advice to his sons, Timmy and Tad. It is full of amusing anecdotes and the many humorous and clever things the boys do and say. O'Brien also poignantly captures the trials of parenthood, from the feelings of helplessness while trying to soothe an incessantly crying infant to the universal frustrations of trying to understand a teenager. O'Brien is a thoughtful and close reader, and the strongest chapters are those focused on the reading assignments from which he hopes to draw and impart important life lessons through literary discussion. Interspersed throughout are memoiristic chapters sharing his fears and political awakening during his military service in Vietnam and passionately articulating his antiwar beliefs. Like most dads, O'Brien carries the hopes, fears, and dreams of his children in his own heart; on these pages he hopes to share the wisdom he has gleaned on his quest to fully embrace fatherhood.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2019, American Library Association.)