Sunday, April 26, 2009

Let's have a pity party ...

... Bad Memories, Hard Feelings.

So Queenan's old man was a prick. Mark it in the life ledger and move on. Or write a novel about the guy. That'll force you to get inside his skin and see what you looked like from where he stood.


  1. - or simply forgive and move on.

  2. Yeah, that can work, too.

  3. Have you read Christopher Buckley's piece in the New York Times from his book on his recently deceased parents?

    It was awful and I'm sorry I read it. It was, as they say, too much information.

    I don't think we need to know about William F. Buckley's odd ways, or his wife's bad treatment of her son and grandaughter.

    It is in particularly poor taste as Buckley and his wife are dead and they cannot respond.

    Is he a crybaby and a liar? Or is this ungrateful son just trying to gain fame as a writer by telling stories about his more famous father? And his mother as well!

    He did receive some attention when, as the son of a notable conservative writer, he backed Obama for president.

    Is this Act II.

    He should concentrate on his fiction and let the past go. And he should honor his parents even if they were not perfect.

  4. Christopher Buckley is rapidly transforming himself into a world-class twit.

  5. This comment has been removed by the author.

  6. Excellent point, Judith. I wonder if Queenan has noticed.

  7. This comment belongs above the comment above (that is, number 5 @ 5:39), deleted by the author with all apologies for out-of-orderliness:

    Interesting. The one point the reviewer fails to make, the one that literally springs to life in the few brief quotes and the assessment entire?

    Joe Queenan became his father, lock, stock, and heart-rock.


    But, while I'm here, I agree with you as well, Paul. Invariably, when one cannot forgive another, at bottom, it is one's self that one cannot forgive. JQ, e.g., cannot forgive himself for not exhibiting courage (to love despite another's flaws); or, prolly, he cannot forgive the weaknesses within himself that relationship with his father illuminated and amplified. The saddest thing? The burden of carrying that grudge . . . the lost energy invested in maintaining it when, "Alas, it is delusion all," as Lord Byron so astutely noted.

    In Other Words