Friday's Book Review

**Let's just pretend I hit "post" on Friday like I was supposed to...

I decided to look tough in this week's picture becuase Andre Dubus the third spends most of his book "Townie" trying to figure out how to be tough. Okay, I lied. It's because this was the only photo booth picture that didn't feature a prominent double-chin. Looking tough in pictures = tricky way to hide fat face. I need to just adopt that look for when I'm out and about too.

Or I need to stop eating petite cheesecakes.

Either one, really.

So, this week's book is "Townie" by Andre Dubus III. It was my Indiespensable  last month from Powell's Books. (A Christmas present from Matt and my mother-in-law! My second one ships this week and I'm super excited.)

Memoirs are inherently self-serving. I think Dubus knew this -- per the interview with him that came with this book, I learned that he didn't set out to write a memoir. Instead he felt compelled to capture some important moments in his life in order to understand them and ultimately realized that he might have a book.

This book is hard for me to review because I can't exactly pinpoint what was so compelling about it. On its surface it just another writer's look at his rough history -- absent father, busy mother, drugs, and violence. But the book has a magical quality to tying all these stories together to provide meaning. More than once I would finish a paragraph and just say, "Huh" out loud to myself. Not "Huh?" just "Huh." (My exclamation of contemplative thought.)  

At the core this book is about violence. It's about what happens when you realize that you have what is necessary to punch someone in the face and drop them to the ground. Dubus talks about that moment as breaking the membrane. 

I have never punched anyone. I've hit and slapped a few people (notably boys who made comments about my breasts and thank God for my parents who raised me with enough self-assurance to feel like I could slap a guy if necessary); and in my women's self-defense class in college I got to kick a guy in a padded suit in the balls. But if we're just talking about a deeply rooted bent toward violence as a first response, I don't get that.

Dubus helped me get that. And I was conflicted as I read this book. I knew ultimately that he was going to come around and realize that punching people and sending them to the hospital isn't the key. (The scene toward the end where this big realization takes place is super intense and deeply rewarding.) I married a guy who has never thrown a punch and avoids all conflict like the plague -- I asked him once if there is anything that could happen to me where he would respond by punching someone and he honestly didn't think there was. I'm the more violent person in our relationship, I think. 

This disappointed me a little bit at the time.

Then after reading "Townie", I think I can respect that there is a balance. A delicate one. And if we take the time to truly understand people and situations, violence is rarely the answer. 

I cried a couple of times while reading this. I also felt really moved on an intellectual level.

It's not a fast read and it meanders a bit; also, the early teenage year stuff can be a bit plodding. But even in those thick chapters, Dubus gives enough meaning and insight that I think it's worth slogging through. While I didn't find myself wanting to stay up all night to finish, I did find myself contemplating this man's life long after I read the last page.

This is my first Dubus book and his portrayal of himself is honest and raw. Which makes me super curious about his fiction. I'll add "House of Sand and Fog" to my to-read list -- I want to now see what a man like this can accomplish when he sits down to create art.