June Not Fiction Book Discussions

As we noted in last month's discussion of Blood, Bones & Butter by Gabrielle Hamilton, a challenge for every writer of memoir is to determine which details from one's life to include and which to leave out, which contribute to a clear narrative and theme, and which do not, as well as how to find an engaged but dispassionate perspective on the events of one's life. With Townie: A Memoir by Andre Dubus III, we will consider another Bildungsroman, or coming-of-age story, about the moral and psychological growth of the narrator. And as with Hamilton's story, Townie also happens to be a Kunstlerroman, or story about the development of an artist. In these genres, the narrator begins his or her development when a great disruption occurs in the family's life, and he or she must grow up quickly. This coming-of-age involves conflicts with society and culture that are eventually resolved to some degree, and the narrator is able to reflect upon his or her journey, often through art, with equanimity and self-knowledge.

Lisa Shea summed up Dubus' story in a review in Elle: "In his memoir Townie, Andre Dubus III bravely claims all of the shadows he grew up under--his famous writer father, his parents' divorce, his newly single mother's impoverishment, the rough streets of the many working-class New England towns he called home. Fighting saved him for a while; then he put down his fists and picked up a pen. Lucky him, lucky us." We accompany Dubus in his quest to avenge the losses and disappointments in his and his family's life, especially his father's abandonment of the family, through physical violence. As he disciplines his body and mind to fight, looking for opportunities to act the hero and fight on behalf of someone, anyone, we experience along with him both the magnetic power and the sickening transgression of violence. As he takes up the new discipline of writing, following his father's path, we observe his gradual transformation. And when his father is severely injured in an automobile accident, we witness his ability to forgive his father and become the caretaker his father could never be.

Dubus has said in interviews that he tried unsuccessfully for years to tell this story through fiction and that he inadvertently wrote it as memoir while trying to write a short essay on deadline about baseball and his sons. He found he had to explain his own relationship with his father in order to do so. In an interview with Powell's Books, he said that as he wrote "I really felt, frankly . . . What's the word? I didn't feel exhilarated. There was a calm. I knew there was a calmness to me as I wrote this. And I realized I had no anger and no judgment anymore about where I'd been, where we'd been as a family. I realized, I guess I just have to tell it straight as Andre, and not some character. Even though I had a contract expectation from my publisher, I thought, You know, this is for my kids. This is for my three kids and they're going to know more about their family, and their dad. I wrote it in that spirit, and, then, towards the end, I felt, Maybe this is a book that other people might get something out of. My biggest hope, or my biggest fear--my biggest hope is joining my biggest fear--was that this wasn't about just me. If so, who gives a shit? [Laughter]I hope it's about more than just my family." Is Dubus successful in capturing and holding our attention and our sympathies and in conveying us successfully along his hero's journey? How does his memoir compare with Hamilton's in perspective and tone?

We hope you will join the conversation: Tuesday, June 5, at 6:30 p.m. at Main Library; Thursday, June 21, at 11:00 a.m. at West Ashley Branch Library; and here on the blog.