Tag Archives: writing

Jun 17 2007
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writing

My Favorite Father Story

For Father’s Day, here is an exerpt from the memoir I am working on. This is from a chapter called Save the Children.

The Gremlin

A FEW DAYS GO BY AND I have almost forgotten about the day Mom threatened to leave. Dad comes home unexpectedly one afternoon and asks me if I want to go for a ride.

“Where?” I ask.

“What do you care,” he says. “Come on. Go for a ride with your dad.”

I feel a little anxious about committing to something as visible as a trip with Dad, but I decide I don’t have much to lose. This summer I am spending most of my time at an apartment down on Front Street, smoking cigarettes and attempting to impress two young ladies who are somewhat older than me. My sister Terri, my primary ally in the house, is only now just beginning to shun my company for the company of our next door neighbor. Although Terri and I are not disdainful of one another yet, our relationship has devolved into constant pestering: I bum cigarettes from her while she chides me to help her clean. I hold a vague hope that I can hide my travel with Dad from the rest of the family, but especially from Terri.

Jumping into his Gremlin, I slink down into the passenger seat, furtively looking out the windows. How will Dad feel if I ask him to drop me off up the block when we get home?

As it turns out, none of that matters. This is the first of many car trips for me and Dad that summer. At the start of each trip, I am always a little hesitant to get in the car, but once we pull away from the curb, everything changes: I am on the road with Dad.

I get to operate the radio and the 8-track tape player. He teaches me how to read a road map. If we stop for gas, I watch as he jots down mileage and time in a little spiral notebook he keeps in the glove box. We always go to his brother or one of his sister’s houses, just like the whole family did when we were kids; only now, it’s just me and Dad.

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May 30 2007
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Tim O’Brien Talks About War

 

I was fortunate to catch Tim O’Brien, one of my favorite authors, at local reading earlier this month. He spoke eloquently about war, how it can shape a young man’s life, and what it can do to our country. But he wasn’t talking about Iraq or Afghanistan. When Tim O’Brien talks about war, he talks about Vietnam.

Beyond his devotion to exploring the Vietnam war, O’Brien stands out for me by his willingness to bend the rules of fiction and narrative. In The Things They Carried, he intentionally blurs the line between fact and fiction by naming his lead character Tim O’Brien, and then making him a writer who returns from Vietnam haunted by the war, subsequently devoting his life to writing about it. In his only memoir (If I Die In a Combat Zone, Box Me Up and Ship Me Home), he writes in a straight-forward manner about his tour of duty. It was his first attempt at writing about the war. Although it’s not a bad effort, it lacks the power of his fiction.

O’Brien is at his best when he is searching for the truth, not trying to relay mere facts. He spent most of night discussing the literal truths that were the basis for his fictional account of the war in The Things They Carried. I found it fascinating. You can determine some of this yourself by reading both his memoir and his fiction. Or you can just ask him. Forty years later and he still loves to talk about Vietnam. Maybe as writers we need that same kind of passion about something to get at anything worthwhile. It’s certainly worked for Tim O’Brien.

Most interesting fact discovered: In O’Brien’s fictional account of the war, Henry Dobbins famously carries his girlfriend’s pantyhose as a good luck charm. In real life, O’Brien carried the pantyhose.

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May 30 2007
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The Circumcision Decision

The last good memoir I read was Neal Pollack’s Alternadad.

It’s an amusing tale of fatherhood, told from the point of view of a slacker, Gen-X rocker who eventually comes to grips with the responsibilities of fatherhood. Since I know very little about music, I thought the slant toward alternative rock might alienate me. Instead I found plenty I could relate with about parenting. In particular was the family decision on whether to have their son circumcised.

When my son was born, my wife wanted to leave him uncut. Since I am cut, I felt mildly reluctant. I asked my wife for time to think about it. To help make up my mind, I solicited people’s opinions. I even called my mom, who raised us Catholic but then converted to fundamentalist Christian while I was in the Navy.

Talking to Mom decided it for me. This is pretty much how the conversation went:

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Nov 24 2006
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Frank McCourt is No Performer

Frank McCourt is one of my favorite writers. On my desk at work I keep a little Saint Francis statue in Frank’s honor. The childhood memoir I’m currently working on is modeled after Angela’s Ashes. I like how he doesn’t try to intellectualize about his relationship with his father. I like how he isn’t afraid to let the story speak for itself. He never pontificates beyond the glib message that the miserable Irish Catholic childhood is possibly the worst of all childhoods. And then he goes on to show you that this may very well be an understatement. You have to appreciate a story teller so talented.

But Frank McCourt is no performer.

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Nov 15 2006
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Alice Sebold Taught Me How to Write Fiction

Sometimes I am so out of it, I shock myself.

Alice Sebold taught fiction writing at Hunter college in the early 90s, but I didn’t realize until last night that Alice is now the bestselling author of The Lovely Bones  and Lucky. She was one of my favorite teachers.

The last time I spoke with Alice she was leaving NYC to be the resident writer at some sort of writing retreat in California.  She said she had just discovered she  would be getting less than $500 a month in salary and wanted to know  what I thought. I said, “It could be worse.” I am so glad I didn’t say  something caustic. From her Wikipedia entry, it looks like she went from the  retreat to University of California: Irvine and the rest is–as they say–history.

I have no excuse for why I lost track of Alice until last night. For the past two years I have read primarily memoir and have even fingered the spine of her memoir, Lucky, in the book store. Somehow I just didn’t put it together. I am very happy. Success couldn’t have happened to a more deserving writer than Alice Sebold. I am also going to include her name prominently on all my future submissions: Tim Elhajj studied with Alice Sebold.

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