J. R. Moehringer

Far too many of the reviews for this book here on LT criticize the book and the author for 'whining' about his childhood. I can only deduce these readers had their humanity removed in some kind of surgical procedure meant to bolster their own perception of themselves. Honestly, the reveiwers/readers all must come from perfectly well-adjusted families and are themselves superior to everyone else in every way. Far from whining, Moehringer regularly castigates himself for his faults, even though they are largely not of his own making. He came from an altogether dysfunctional family and struggled for everything, particularly a grounded sense of himself. The characters are so credible and unique that they would never be believed in a fictional account. It's the kind of book that is wildly popular these days, only from a female perspective. Don't get me wrong, there are far too few female authors and female narratives because of the gender gaps in publishing. But, I'd argue, there are also too few honest male voices writing sincerely about male identity and struggles - Moehringer fills this void with class. For those who reviewed this book negatively, I'd say, "Get over yourselves." For everyone else, "Read this book."

The book was recently adapted to film, and the producers, which included Moehringer, did a nice job of capturing the tone of the narrative - boy basically grows up in a bar, raised by ne'er-do-well barflies - but the book is much more evocative, lighter on the Hollywood moments and heavier on the heart-felt emotion.

Highly Recommended!
5 bones!!!!!… (more)

I have two confessions... I didn't know this was a memoir until I started reading it. Actually (not the second confession yet), I didn't know a memoir is quite close to a biography. And I don't read biographies. I read long time ago Bob Marley's biography and just hated it. Will this change? probably not, but this was an amazing read.
The second confession? It made me think about myself as a father, a lot. This book is able to get to your guts. And it's just so beautifully written. Absolutely worth it.… (more)

I read about this book in a menu.
No kidding.
There's a great sushi joint in town called Miya's that has a menu with facetious descriptions of food, stories on how dishes and drinks came to be, and even footnotes and an epilogue. Most fun menu I know- even better than the color-you-own ones.
And in this menu. _The Tender Bar_ was mentioned as "a short story" where the son of a single mother grows up in a bar using the men around him as the father figure (collectively) he doesn't have. This intrigued me and I saw the possibilty of a puppet piece coming from it, and so I marched my butt to Strand's the next time I was in the City and looked for a short story collection containing _The Tender Bar_.
Low, and behold, it was a 368-page hardback memoir, but it was on the sale table and I was on a mission, so it went home with me.
The book is not what I expected, not what I wanted, and so I hated it. But I could never really get up the steam I needed to really let that hatred set in because I was turning pages rapidly (for me, at least), chuckling and weeping (shh- don't tell).
Moeringer has such a clear remembrance of so many events, such clarity on what he felt and how to say it, even as a very young child, that I often wondered if I was reading the next LeRoy. But I didn't care too much, because I wanted to believe it and, ultimately, it didn't affect me one way or another if it was completely true, mostly true, or inspired by truth.
The book has unlovable, unlikeable characters who Moehringer manager to have me empathizing with even though their behavior is despicable. Fromt he outside, I saw that if this one character, Grandpa, had been different, that everything else, all the horrid things that happened and the terrible way people treated each other and their self-destructive behaviors could have been different, and probably better in some cases. ANd yet, I found myself saying, "Poor Fella" as I saw little acts of humanity in him.
It is not a nice, neat book.
It's a heartbreaker that goes on and on with little mendings and perpetual chipping away at J.R.'s heart- and mine. And then, it's about what happens after your heart breaks wide open and you're still alive.
The book is not always well-paced, and drags significantly in parts. I can't tell if that is the author trying to convey how his life was also dragging interminably at that time, or poor editing. And if you can stomach the heartache, it's surely a quick-ish read: no dense concepts, no giant vocab.
And despite the realtvely short time I spent reading it (under a week?), I sometimes find myself thinking about "that guy I knew, the one who hung out at the bar a lot and kept that kid out of trouble"-- and then I realize I am thinking about his very, very real portrayal of (presumably) real people he loves very much, and I kind of do, too.… (more)