Only son

Moffett writes about fatherhood and the bittersweet passage of time in his quietly beautiful debut novel (after the story collection Further Interpretations of Real-Life Events). After the unnamed narrator loses his dad at the age of nine, his paternal grandmother hauls away his father's possessions. Like the marks left on the carpet by his dad's now absent recliner, the boy's memories of his father fade over time. A desultory childhood in a 1980s Florida suburb follows, during which the narrator watches so much TV that "it feels like a punishment." He attends karate classes, where he sits through lectures from a sensei who sees himself as a role model for at-risk boys. The only real kindness he remembers comes from a neighborhood boy who had lost his father to prison. From there, the novel jumps forward 25 years. The narrator has become a writing professor outside of Los Angeles and father to a son. He feels just as rudderless as a parent as he did as a fatherless son. "I wish I'd inherited some traditions from my father," he thinks. "I'm mostly trying to be present... and known." He ruefully notes how his son transforms from a boy who runs to his parents with all his questions and fears into a sullen teenager, now impenetrable behind his earbuds. Along the way, Moffett keenly traces the grace attained through the long arc of acceptance. Readers will be moved. (Nov.)

A man navigates childhood and fatherhood, first as an only child and then as the parent to one. How does one be a good son? How does one be a good father? These are the questions that animate Moffett's solo debut, a powerful and deeply funny exploration of how the things that happen when we're young shape our lives. Moffett circles this concept during the novel's first section, which deals with the unnamed narrator's childhood in the wake of his father's death. In the book's first pages, he recalls how one of his classmates, Darlene, offered her sympathies, noting that her dad was also dead, though it was immediately clarified that, "He just ran off to Ohio with some woman he met on an airplane." The blows are always dealt with a dose of the surreal, a wink and a nod toward the absurdity of life. The lingering trauma, though, makes its way into the relationships he fosters during the book's most powerful sections. In adulthood, he's a writer living in the desert outside of Los Angeles with his wife and son. Despite an awareness of his own shortcomings, he can't help but have a tension-filled relationship with his son, one that mirrors his own angsty relationship with his mother. Big drama cedes to the mundanity of raising a child and growing into middle age. Little anecdotes, like how his son prays to Zeus instead of God because Zeus is probably less busy, give the story its momentum. At its core, it's a novel of observations. Moffett does, however, give his narrator some catharsis when he's able to clearly express feelings through a letter that he can't seem to tell his son through words: "I tell him he's the best thing that ever happened to me." Humor gives this stirring meditation on the nature of familial relations a playful, biting edge. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.