A review by joaniemaloney
Townie by Andre Dubus III
5.0
And I felt more like me than I ever had, as if the years I'd lived so far had formed layers of skin and muscle over myself that others saw as me when the real one had been underneath all along, and writing - even writing badly - had peeled away those layers, and I knew then that if I wanted to stay this awake and alive, if I wanted to stay me, I would have to keep writing.
One of the best memoirs I've ever read.
I can't remember how I found this book, maybe a random review of some sort, but the cover kept my attention. It's a stroke of luck since I have never read any of the author's works, and most likely wouldn't have been interested in reading about his life. Something about this story of a boy, living a life I've never known, learning to defend himself and his friends, spoke out to me.
Andre Dubus grew up facing violence in the neighbourhoods he lived in, struggling to find a way to stop hiding from the hits he would be taking from the rougher kids. With his parents divorced, his mother was mainly preoccupied with putting food on the table. Andre being the oldest son meant looking out for his siblings, which he couldn't do until he got the motivation to work out, looking up to muscle men in magazines who had bodies that were enough to intimidate without actually using their fists. Along with this new regiment came confidence, and Andre found himself becoming someone who hungered for opportunities to physically punish wrongdoings, or any reason at all to use his punches to send messages. Strong messages. Eventually it wasn't hard to figure out that this lifestyle wouldn't last long.
Lingering beneath all this is the unconscious abandonment Andre feels from his father, who has gone on to live a new life without the rest of them, starting another family while he teaches at a college. The guilt that his father feels sometimes appears, but only simmers at the surface then wafts away. There's an urge to vent, to speak of all the problems he's had to handle on his own but that, like the guilt, passes. He finds that all the anger, the impulsiveness that he feels, can be slowly whittled away by writing. Words can help him, and it's oddly poetic because his father, the elder Andre Dubus, is also a writer.
I can't say enough about all the emotions this memoir made me feel. The sense of clarity...it's honest. I found myself hoping young Andre's courage to stand up to his bullies would finally come, to stop feeling resigned and expecting crushing blows to his body every day after school, something to just keep quiet about even after he made it home. I felt the satisfaction he described when he got into his first fight and his friends looked at him with a newfound sense of respect, even though I knew it would lead to more repercussions. I wanted him to burst at the seams and yell at his father, then feel guilty because I knew words were never that easily spoken. I felt.
Now that I've finished this memoir, it's probably time to read what else the author's written. Is it possible to top this?
One of the best memoirs I've ever read.
I can't remember how I found this book, maybe a random review of some sort, but the cover kept my attention. It's a stroke of luck since I have never read any of the author's works, and most likely wouldn't have been interested in reading about his life. Something about this story of a boy, living a life I've never known, learning to defend himself and his friends, spoke out to me.
Andre Dubus grew up facing violence in the neighbourhoods he lived in, struggling to find a way to stop hiding from the hits he would be taking from the rougher kids. With his parents divorced, his mother was mainly preoccupied with putting food on the table. Andre being the oldest son meant looking out for his siblings, which he couldn't do until he got the motivation to work out, looking up to muscle men in magazines who had bodies that were enough to intimidate without actually using their fists. Along with this new regiment came confidence, and Andre found himself becoming someone who hungered for opportunities to physically punish wrongdoings, or any reason at all to use his punches to send messages. Strong messages. Eventually it wasn't hard to figure out that this lifestyle wouldn't last long.
Lingering beneath all this is the unconscious abandonment Andre feels from his father, who has gone on to live a new life without the rest of them, starting another family while he teaches at a college. The guilt that his father feels sometimes appears, but only simmers at the surface then wafts away. There's an urge to vent, to speak of all the problems he's had to handle on his own but that, like the guilt, passes. He finds that all the anger, the impulsiveness that he feels, can be slowly whittled away by writing. Words can help him, and it's oddly poetic because his father, the elder Andre Dubus, is also a writer.
I can't say enough about all the emotions this memoir made me feel. The sense of clarity...it's honest. I found myself hoping young Andre's courage to stand up to his bullies would finally come, to stop feeling resigned and expecting crushing blows to his body every day after school, something to just keep quiet about even after he made it home. I felt the satisfaction he described when he got into his first fight and his friends looked at him with a newfound sense of respect, even though I knew it would lead to more repercussions. I wanted him to burst at the seams and yell at his father, then feel guilty because I knew words were never that easily spoken. I felt.
Now that I've finished this memoir, it's probably time to read what else the author's written. Is it possible to top this?