Hotels, Hospitals and Jails by Anthony Swofford

I am currently in the middle of Anthony Swofford's tale of an ex-warrior coming to grips with an emotionally elusive father.  Let me say, Mr. Swofford knows how to write.  I did not read his previous memoir, Jarhead, nor see the movie, but this book has made me rethink that decision.

As someone who has strugged with the father-son dynamic for most of my life (as a son), I find this book revealing yet guarded and the words hit home more often than I expected.  Ex marine Swofford is traversing a minefield of a different sort in this book; one where he tries to avoid the explosive dangers his father has planted as well as the ones he wasn't trained to avoid by what every boy needs -- an involved dad.

Some people have wonderful parents who do everything right -- they are the one percent.  The rest of us claw through the tangled underbrush of pain and confusion, anger and hurt, gifted to us by parents who don't necessarily mean to do so. 

Where Anthony Swofford succeeds is in writing a story that could have been overly vitriolic and full of spitfire, but instead he keeps a controlled voice yet clearly expresses his anger.  In what could have been a difficult read, he instead provides us with the opposite: an honest, well-written, account of a man trying to make his way despite all the obstacles in his path.

They say to really write well, one must bleed on the page.  Thank goodness Swofford takes this advice.  It could easily have turned into a bloodbath, but instead is a steady trickle.  A bloodletting, if you will.

Highly recommended.