Waiting All Our Lives

Last night I read in two of the current books, two so different from each other, but both somewhat a memoir. One of the writers is full of energy, maintaining a distinguished career before he is 40, and seems to have the strength and determination for miles more; the other writer appears laid-back but is actually under great restraint about all the time. But at one point in his writing, he drives himself to over-concentrate to get a novel written—and this effort breaks up his marriage. He goes through two or three of those, I think he is going to reveal.

The parents of these two men have much to do with their sons’ present circumstances. One son is precocious, has loving parents, and lives a rather privileged childhood; the other writer, in a larger family, also with certain privileges, prays for war so that his fighter pilot father will be killed. Apparently it isn’t enough to fight the enemy of his country; the pilot brings his lust for power home, to shower his wife and several children with it. The writer’s mother leaves the pilot husband after 33 years of marriage, with no assistance from his retirement, but only $500 a month for child support. The pilot husband is shocked, and while he has lost his wife for good, he now begins to try to love his children. The author says, “We’d been waiting all our lives for our dad to love us.” I almost dread to turn the page in this one. Will finish both quickly now. They’ll see you later, no doubt.

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