Temperatures in the high 90's. Despite the heat, the discussion was surprisingly unheated. Or because of the heat, everyone wanted to stay cool?
To a person, Dubus the father was the better writer. And the short story extremely moving. (The son's best writing in the memoir, many felt, was the train scene. No one has read his fiction.) The memoir at times repetitive, sometimes stretching credulity--how could Dubus, the son, not have known about The Red Sox? Was the neighborhood as bad as he said it was?
Was Dubus, senior, simply the better writer? Or was it because fiction lends itself to better writing--you are not locked in by the truth...while memoir strives for honesty? This statement thrown out in the hopes of arousing a discussion, led to one member saying that good writing is good writing and has nothing to do with the genre. And the thought was blown out the window by the ceiling fan that did little to cool off the room.
Other thoughts: the contrast between Senior Dubus in reality and his version of a father in his short story illustrates either that Dubus the son, was wrong about his father or that his father understood what it takes to be a father but couldn't achieve that in real life. Dubus was actually a good father for his time: he saw his children weekly and paid child support. Why didn't he know about their almost tragic difficulties? Was everyone trying to keep it from him so that he would stick around? not take them away from their mother?
Dubus III struggles with but never confronts or questions his father about his neglect. Which brought up a mention of This American Life Father's Day program on just that...confronting your parent with their past mistakes. The conclusion: When you are an adult, your parents are not the same people they were when they hurt you...you can't question that parent any longer.
