![]() ![]() ![]() Wolff limits himself to the first two decades of his life, it obviously makes sense to get his memories down now. Not a very nice fellow, and were he to show up in a novel we’d probably say that he lacked credibility, that the author had overegged the custard. Life, though, has a habit of outdoing even extremist fiction, and while Dwight is presented to us not so much warts and all as all warts, he nevertheless achieves a certain bizarre plausibility … But isn’t it premature (if not presumptuous) for a young writer with three slim volumes under his belt to lapse into his anecdotage? Aren’t memoirs, after all, the domain of elders like Graham Greene and Karl Shapiro who are persuaded that a summing up is in order? Yes, at least usually, but since Mr. As if that weren’t enough, he tried to strangle the boy’s mother. An alcoholic sadist who humiliated his young charge and regularly beat him up, he also stole his money and shot his dog. “Tobias Wolff’s first stepfather was not exactly a model parent. We live on the innocent and monstrous assurance that we alone, of all the people ever born, have a special arrangement whereby we will be allowed to stay green forever. When we are green, still half-created, we believe that our dreams are rights, that the world is disposed to act in our best interests, and that falling and dying are for quitters. ![]()
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