Pat Conroy (1945–2016)

I cannot remember ever bailing on a book after putting in 265 pages and making 56%. I would have certainly stopped sooner had it not been Pat Conroy and a group read. I regret to say, this book is garbage. I kept waiting for the good writing and meaningful story to kick in, but it did not.

I have loved Conroy. [b:The Prince of Tides|16735|The Prince of Tides|Pat Conroy|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1512744907l/16735._SY75_.jpg|1312477], [b:The Water is show more Wide|129947|The Water is Wide|Pat Conroy|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1347578693l/129947._SY75_.jpg|1414582] and [b:Beach Music|16729|Beach Music|Pat Conroy|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1426903848l/16729._SY75_.jpg|2707941] were all fine reads for me; I am totally happy I did not start with Santini, or I would never have gotten to those. This book is meant to be autobiographical, and I am closing it with admiration for Conroy if this is truly what he rose above. If I have ever encountered a less appealing, more appalling character than Bull Meecham, I cannot remember where it was. But it goes beyond that...I feel not the least bit of anything for a single one of these people, not Bull, not Lillian, and not any of the children, least of all the smart ass, Mary Anne, or pitiful "golden boy", Ben.

The book contains non-stop, pervasive vulgar language and coarse behavior. I do not think this is typical of Marines. I worked with military men for quite a long time, and I found officers were indeed gentlemen, and if this kind of language or attitude was common, it must have been reserved for times when no women were present, because it was never on display before us. I would find it very sad to think Bull Meecham typified our Marines.

In defense of myself, here is a sample of the kind of paragraphs that are repeated time and again, page after page:

So the Krauts fried a couple of Jews. Big deal. It was war. We fried Germans in Berlin and Dresden. We fried Japs in Hiroshima and Nagasaki and I mean, sportsfans, we done fried ‘em like eggs there, no pootin’ around. In every war someone gets fried. The Jews got it from the Krauts. In war, there ain’t no morals. There are just winners, losers, and those that got their asses fried sunny side up.”

I do not find this to be clever writing and I believe there is only so much needed to illuminate how disgusting your main character is before we all get the idea.

”You have four fine children.”
“I want the boys to become good soldiers and the girls to be fine pieces of tail for their husbands.”

No father who would say that about his daughters deserves to be read about. I’m out. show less

"In a reading life, one thing leads to another in a circle of accident and chance."

Taking a quote from the final chapter in Conroy's book was the closest I could come to describing the book itself. I suppose it's most accurate to call this a book of vignettes, all tied to the reading, writing, and most of all life of Pat Conroy, all three of which are closely related for him as he makes clear in this collection.

I came to this book having never read Conroy's fiction, or in fact any other book show more he's ever written. I found an author interview in a magazine that intrigued me, so I put the book on my list to read. I picked it up ready to rush through - enjoy, of course, but read quickly - because it was due back at the library soonest, and I love books about books. But Conroy wouldn't let me rush. I read quickly, yes, but because I had chunks of time here and there and I put aside my other reading to make time for this, because each part of his story wanted me to give my full attention. Every sentence wanted to be considered. One essay made me cry, another made me laugh, and I had to wait before I read the next so that I could separate them out and give each its due. Conroy made me want to pick up War and Peace to read right now, and maybe to add Military Brats by Mary Edwards Wertsch to my list of books to check out from the library. He made me want to read at least one of his novels to see if I like his fiction as well as his nonfiction. I thoroughly enjoyed this glimpse of his love for literature, for story, and for language. show less

I have read and enjoyed three of Pat Conroy’s books, and have another three still to read sitting on my shelves. He is a gifted storyteller, and I very much enjoyed this book focusing on his love of literature and reading and the various influences throughout his life that set him on a literary path. I had the audio version of the book, which is narrated by Conroy himself. He’s not the most polished reader, but to hear his own story from his own lips (soft Southern slur and all) was very show more effective and made the telling more intimate. At turns funny and sad, [My Reading Life] is both a memoir and a manifesto; a memoir of one man’s life journey through books, and a manifesto on the value of all things biblio – books, libraries, writers, bookshops, etc. While in the middle of listening to the book, I had the opportunity to purchase a gently used hardcover copy of it, which I snapped up to add to my permanent collection. This one gets five stars because how can I quibble over such a passionate articulation of the value of books and reading? show less

What on earth was that about? At first I was thinking 'the deformed offspring of thirtysomething and Steel Magnolias', but then the whole confused narrative turned into some crazy plot from an American soap opera, and I rapidly lost the plot. The lives of a tortured teen, two hillbilly orphans, twins beings stalked by their psychopathic father, a token black couple, and three rich kids are rehashed in retrospect by the kid who grows up to be a journalist, a la Stephen King. All fair and show more good, and I loved the descriptions of Charleston, South Carolina (though not the purple prose), but the goings on, both back in the 60s and in the 'present day' 80s, were just bonkers! I mean, what?

First of all, I couldn't quite stomach how perfect Leo was - his introductions to all these troubled teens, and the speed with which he mops up the frequent adolescent messes they get themselves into, were nauseating to say the least. 'Hey, uncuff these delinquent hillbillies, I'm going to turn their messed up lives around' - 'Oh thank you, Leo!' or 'Hey, I baked you some cookies and I won't tell a soul that your mother is a raving alcoholic' - 'You're amazing, Leo, let me pop your cherry by way of thanks' I just ... But then I think Pat Conroy got bored, and decided that instead of some coming of age/nostalgic righting of social wrongs, he really wanted to pen a hackneyed thriller, so started throwing in action scenes and mutilated corpses. And don't even remind me of the 'shocking revelation' of the final chapters, which was signposted in neon very early on but then ignored for the rest of the book - just stop already! You have reached your cliche quota, Mr Conroy; start a new book if you wish to write more.

Three stars for being able to get through this certifiable drivel in the shortest possible time, but if, like me, you want to read about South Carolina, buy a travel guide. show less