Manhood for Amateurs: The Pleasures and Regrets of a Husband, Father, and Son

by Michael Chabon

Book Overview

"Chabon has always been a magical prose stylist, adept at combining the sort of social and emotional detail found in Philip Roth's Goodbye, Columbus stories with the metaphor-rich descriptions of John Updike and John Irving's inventive sleight of hand. . . . As in his novels, he shifts gears easily between the comic and the melancholy, the whimsical and the serious, demonstrating once again his ability to write about the big subjects of love and...

• Format: Paperback
• Language: English
• ISBN: 0061490199
• ISBN13: 9780061490194
• Release Date: May 2010
• Publisher: Harper Perennial
• Length: 336 Pages
• Weight: 0.60 lbs.
• Dimensions: 0.8" x 6.6" x 7.9"

Customer Reviews

Brilliant, Amazing Collection of Essays by A Gifted Writer

Chabon's book is basically a collection of essays on being a man. The subtitle is "The Pleasures and Regrets of a Husband, Father and Son." The theme is a perfect counterpoint to his wife's book (Ayelet Waldman's "Bad Mother"), but while Waldman's book stayed on track, Chabon's book takes delightful side-trips into the lands of comic books, baseball and listening to the radio. My Thoughts As much as I didn't want to compare their writing (which strikes me as horribly unfair), I got a lot of food for thought from Waldman's book but I fell in love with Chabon's book. His writing pleased me immensely. The way he puts words together thrilled me and amused me and touched me. So much so that I think I'll just spend the rest of this review cramming as many little excerpts in as I can. Why listen to me go on and on about how much I loved this book when you can experience it for yourself? Consider his essay the "Splendors of Crap." Have you ever heard a more accurate description of modern children's movies than this: At least once a month I take my kids to see a new "family movie"--the latest computer-generated piece of animated crap. Please don't oblige me to revisit the last one even long enough to name the film, let alone describe it. Anyway, you know the one I mean: set in a zoo, or in a forest, or on farm, or under the sea, or in "Africa," or in an effortlessly hilarious StorybookLandTM where magic, wonder and make-believe are ironized and mocked except at the moments when they are tenderly invoked to move units. I believe but am not prepared to swear that the lead in this weekend's version may have been a neurotic lion, or a neurotic bear, or a neurotic rat, or a neurotic chicken. Chances are good that the thing featured penguins; for a while, the movies have all been featuring penguins. Naturally, there were the legally required 5.5 incidences of humor-stimulating flatulence per hour of running time. A raft of bright pop-punk tunes on the soundtrack, alternating with familiar numbers culled with art and cruelty from the storehouse of parental nostalgia. Chabon has a gift for writing about the little moments of life and making them instantly familiar and relatable but then layering on his own unique style and viewpoint in a way that makes these essays as delicious and satisfying to read as dark chocolate or a warm roll with butter (or substitute your guilty delight here). As my Little One embarks on his school career, I've begun to realize that the sheer amount of papers he'll generate in the coming years could account for an entire forest of trees dying. So I thoroughly enjoyed "The Memory Hole," in which Chabon writes about dealing with the creative works of four children. Let's read a little of it, shall we? Almost every school day, at least one of my four children comes home with art: a drawing, a painting, a piece of handicraft, a construction-paper assemblage, an enigmatic apparatus made from pipe cleaners, sparkles and clay. An

Wistful, Comic, and Intelligent, Chabon has written a perspicacious account into the art of manhood

According to Michael Chabon's hilariously candid essay, "William and I," he writes that "the handy thing about being a father is that the historic standard is so pitifully low." In contrast to the much aggrieved, or as the author puts it, "tedious and invisible" role of classic motherhood, fathers are traditionally relegated the tasks of bread-winning and some minimal cosseting of the children. On the other hand, mothers must concern themselves occasionally with performing "an emergency tracheotomy with a Bic pen on her eldest child while simultaneously nursing her infant and buying two weeks' worth of healthy but appealing breakfast snacks for the entire cast of Lion King, Jr." To this end, the science of good mothering hinges on, he observes, "a long-term pattern, a lifelong trend of behaviors most of which go unobserved at the time by anyone," and whatever deliberations we cast on her performance come only at the end of this thankless, mirthless role. The unwritten handbook on parenting tells us that the enterprise of child-rearing, while ideally resting between the shoulders of husband and wife, ultimately remains, by merit of performance, in distaff territory. Mothers must impel themselves to lord over the household with an eye trained for disaster, detecting "the vast invisible flow of peril through which their children are obliged daily to make their way"; conversely, fathers adopt a more casual approach, often brazenly oblivious to the "specter of calamity that haunts their children." However, considering the cultural changes of the last few decades, it is now not uncommon to see more mothers assuming the post of the materfamilias while fathers play the part of the Gen X housedad--milkless and endowed with a shade less testosterone, but skilled in laundering, folding, cleaning, and most importantly, cooking. That said, society at large still revolves around a familiar and well-established norm--dad finances the family, whereas mom, though now employed and ambidextrously equipped for paternal substitution, still tends to the children's needs. Like many of the pieces in Manhood for Amateurs, Michael Chabon extrapolates on the revisions made on this proverbial handbook of the male trifecta, outlining manhood's inherent flaws, behavioral theories and egotistical dispositions; about cultural dialogues with popular art that shape its intractable methodology, illustrated with artifacts as diverse as Lego's, comic book characters, baseball cards, kiddie paraphernalia, and sci-fi films like Star Trek; and on tidbits lifted from his personal history that govern the raison d'être's of his writing, his artistry, and moreover, the cruces of manhood that challenge him to refine his approach to the ever-evolving craft. Readers familiar with his finest novels like The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay and The Yiddish Policemen's Union will find much that resonates thematically with these essays--particularly, how he stitches elements o

Amateur Hour

Let's face it: being a great writer doesn't make a man a great husband, father, or son. There are, in fact, some famous examples of quite the opposite. With this in mind, I wondered what might be discovered in Chabon's "first sustained work of personal writing." "Manhood for Amateurs" starts off with wit and humor, then segues into hard-earned wisdom and poignancy. Chabon sets the bar low from the onset (with a wink of the eye), letting us in on the well known secret that a man doesn't need to do half as much as his fairer counterpart to be considered a good parent. Even while poking fun, while making wry and laugh-out-loud observations, he manages to give us fresh perspective on the power of memory, of living in the moment, of fear and aggression and sensitivity. He admits his own shortcomings, hints at--and sometimes revels a bit in--the wild times of his own youth. From his odes to comic books, Velvet Crumb Cake, and Big Barda (yeah, I'd never heard of her), to his loving references to his mother and his wife, Chabon gives us plenty of reasons to celebrate being a man--whether young or old. Women may enjoy this book as a peek into the male mindset, good and/or bad, while men may enjoy it as a sometimes raucous, sometimes reverential, look at what it means to be a father in the twenty-first century. There's less here than I had hoped about being a husband, but Chabon does offer some heartfelt words of advise from his failed first marriage. Throughout, I found myself laughing, sighing, sometimes disagreeing, often relating, and reading sections aloud to my wife (who, generally, seemed to enjoy it as much as I). Overall, I found myself looking forward to more years of fatherhood--with all the pleasures and regrets they are bound to bring. In Chabon's world, to be an "amateur" is to be one driven by passion, as opposed, I assume, to being a professional driven by monetary motives. His passion for his children comes through, and with that perspective, I hope to never forget the joys of being an "amateur" myself.

A Collection of Pieces

Chabon, Michael. "Manhood for Amateurs; The Pleasures and Regrets of a Husband, Father, and Son", HarperCollins, 2009. A Collection of Pieces Amos Lassen Michael Chabon's collection of thoughts on being a man ranges from light thoughts to some very poignant and dramatic moments as well as several sustained meditations. If there is unifying themes they are memory and nostalgia. The book is a way to look at the past. However what makes this book special is the author's style--he is sharp and he knows how to treat the reader. He digresses but we digress with him. Chabon has no problem denigrating himself and does so in some of the finest English language. He goes right to the point with his fluent style. He writes with humor and caustic wit yet his writing is formal and crisp. His work is personal and for that alone is this book worth reading. His thoughts on the loss of innocence ring true and he grounds his cultural criticisms so that they are anecdotal and personal. It's a wonderful read with a lot to say.