Priestdaddy

“When we came home later, my father was wearing his most transparent pair of boxer shorts, to show us he was angry, and drinking Baileys Irish Cream liqueur out of a miniature crystal glass, to show us his heart was broken.”

This may be my favorite sentence in all of writing.

What makes that sentence good is what makes the whole book good: a comical situation described in the evocative language of a poet. The contradiction that that creates is delightful. And really, it's the larger contradictions that draw you in and hold you. That a priest is married and has lots of children. That a priest likes to play down and dirty metal-hair-band-esque licks on the electric guitar. That a priest would blow his child's college funds for a guitar pre-owned by a rock legend, and truly believe that it couldn't be helped.

That last situation occurs at the start of the book, when everything is still very very funny. But it does presage a seriousness that takes hold 2/3 of the way through the book. The recounting of childhood experiences become more lonesome, the view of her parents' world becomes bleaker. You can really feel the despair of the author as she sees her father act incredibly selfishly towards her mother, towards her siblings, really towards anyone who isn't a priest. He clearly is the most important person in the family, knows it, and acts accordingly.

The change from hilarious to bitingly sad is disappointing because I was having such a good time - I love to laugh. It's also disappointing on purpose, because the author wants us to feel how it was to go back into that toxic environment as an adult, to relive with her the memories in their proper context. The journey is a good one, go ahead and take it.