« Book Review: Things I Learned About My Dad In Therapy »

I am not a book reviewer. I am a book reader. Fortunately for you, gentle reader, this fact isn’t going to stop me from sharing the love for Heather Armstrong’s new book: Things I Learned About My Dad in Therapy. One word: HOLY.

Heather has managed to cobble together with love and literary harmony a dozen or so essays, written by real people (who coincidently have a real knack for writing), chronicling their experiences either with their fathers —or with being fathers themselves.

I tried to read it slowly. I ended up finishing it in less than 24 hours, and when I closed the back cover, I gently rubbed the spine and found myself with a silly, melancholic grin. You don’t have to be a father to appreciate this writing, you only have to have been born.

I’m of the school that father’s tend to get the short end of the stick. The short and dirty end, when it comes to parenthood and glory. This book illuminates the specialness of being a father, having a father and will likely leave you with a silly grin as well.