Most reviews are given from a literary perspective--that is, from the perspective of an individual who has some knowledge of what qualifies as "good" and what is relegated to the dreaded nether-regions of "bad" writing. Whilst I acknowledge the superior knowledge and education of some people--concerning literature--I have never myself been able to take on this role with any degree of comfort. A lot of my creative energy springs from a general state of open-mindedness, concerning what I see and what I read. If you are of such a temperament, all judgement of good and bad appear extremely subjective--to the point that speculations of quality can seem academic, to say the least.

As a result of this inherent self-doubt, concerning my place in the world of literary criticism, I prefer to write my recommendations purely from the perspective of an author. I may not have found an adequate yard-stick to measure literary quality, as yet, but I have my own private yard-stick to estimate how much fun an author may have had, writing a given work. I can usually guess how much fun an author had by how original and fresh the writing or the concept is. When an author is having fun, it shows in their writing. Not only are other writers intrigued--innately detecting the sense of fun which spurs the author on--but any serious reader will likely be able to catch on to the fun and be carried away on that tide, along with the writer. I recommend these books based entirely on that sense of fun.

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stretching a tripping line from ginsberg to muldoon

when the withering hand raises its statues chiseling Moloch-granites
at
their
edge
at
the
margins
poetry
grain
by
grain
digs
its
gates
seam
by
seam
pulls
the
threads
unnoticed
unraveling

The Israeli writer Amos Oz remarked on Charlie Rose's PBS interview show recently that he walks in the desert among the ancient stones near his home every morning to "put things in perspective". To me Allen Ginsberg's poem "Howl" is one of those lasting touchstones. With it I judge the quality of my own work and that of other writers. Editor Jason Shinder's twenty-six essay collection The Poem That Changed America: "Howl" Fifty Years Later (Farrar, Straus and Giroux) is a book that I have kept on my night-table for a long time because it is fascinating to read how others value Ginsberg's 1956 poem, or not (the book is not all panegyric).

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I mostly read fiction, memoirs, and poetry--preferences that are reflected in my night table choices. I've selected books that have been published relatively recently, because I believe it's important to support new works. (I've allowed myself one exception, The Smoking Diaries, by Simon Gray, which I excuse on the grounds that it's new to me.)

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The concept of father memoirs is a fascinating one. Confronting fathers directly and publicly is not, and never has been, easy: the patriarch should judge and not be judged. To write about the father is to sit in judgement upon him, and for most cultures this was a taboo too strong to be overcome. The Greeks, despite their searingly perceptive stories about father child interactions, did not attempt to do so-nor did the Romans, the Italians of the Renaissance, the Elizabethans, or even the Romantics. Paradoxically--but not surprisingly, given the rigid paternalism of the age and the attendant psychological pressures--personal father writing, like radical feminism, is a product of the Victorian era.

In 1907, six years after the death of Queen Victoria, Edmund Gosse published Father and Son. Once the taboo was broken, writers were quick to take advantage of the new possibilities. The 20th century saw a steady increase in the number of father memoirs, and, now that the boomers are aging and seeking to immortalize themselves, such memoirs are becoming as ubiquitous as tattoos. And, as with tattoos, some are visceral works of art. The six books described below give an idea of how poignant, rich and rewarding father memoirs can be.

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