Available:*
Library | Shelf Location | Shelf Number | Material Type | Item Barcode | Status |
---|---|---|---|---|---|
Searching... Timaru Library | Non-fiction | 92 LOC | Book | TI6577297 | Searching... Unknown |
Bound With These Titles
On Order
Summary
Summary
When the expense of a medical procedure forces the 30-year-old Patricia to move back in with her parents, husband in tow, she must learn to live again with her family's simmering madness, and to reckon with the dark side of a childhood spent in the bosom of the Catholic Church. Her father is a gun-toting, all-American, frequently semi-naked priest who underwent a religious conversion after watching The Exorcist 70 times on a Navy submarine; her mother, who emerges as the book's real heart, is a woman preternaturally concerned with the various disasters that could be about to befall her loved ones - and any nearby babies - at all times. Told with a keen comic sensibility that packs a laugh on almost every page, this is at the same time a lyrical and affecting true story of how, having ventured into the underworld, we can emerge with our levity and our sense of justice intact.
Genre:
Autobiographies. |
Reviews (6)
Publisher's Weekly Review
Equipped with acerbic wit and a keen eye for raunchy detail, poet Lockwood (Motherland Fatherland Homelandsexuals) ventures into nonfiction with this wickedly funny memoir about moving back in with her parents. For eight months in 2013, Lockwood and her husband, Jason, moved back to Kansas City to live in her childhood home. It's a situation colored in no small way by the presence of Lockwood's larger-than-life family, particularly her father, a practicing (and, yes, married) Catholic priest, who loves sports cars and guns and watches action movies in his underwear, and mother, a sweetly earnest, hyperactive woman whose "preferred erotica on the internet [is] German Christmas handcraft." The book includes flashbacks to Lockwood's childhood and adolescence as she grapples with her religious upbringing and finds refuge in the written word. The result is Mary McCarthy's Memories of a Catholic Girlhood meets David Sedaris's Me Talk Pretty One Day, with a poetic twist. (May) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
Booklist Review
Lockwood's memoir is a study in contrast. Her father, who became a Catholic priest after he was married and had a family, also happens to only wear boxers around the house, play classic rock guitar, and read Tom Clancy. Lockwood's mother adheres to the social mores of Catholicism but also enjoys a good curse and manages several rounds of puns about a semen stain found in a hotel room. And Lockwood herself, a poet who abandoned the church long ago, loves a dirty joke but still knows exactly what she should be doing at every moment during a service. After Lockwood and her husband fall on financial troubles, they move back into her parents' rectory to regain their footing. This collision of worlds brings a flood of childhood memories filled with antiabortion protests, a bizarre youth group, and the push against her conservative upbringing. Lockwood magically combines laugh-aloud moments with frank discussions of social issues and shows off her poet's skills with lovely, metaphor-filled descriptions that make this memoir shine.--Sexton, Kathy Copyright 2017 Booklist
New York Review of Books Review
PRIESTDADDY, by Patricia Lockwood. (Riverhead, $16.) Lockwood weaves together her origin stories: of her coming of age in a family headed up by a Roman Catholic priest, and of her development as a poet. As our reviewer, Gemma Sieff, put it, Lockwood "proves herself a formidably gifted writer who can do pretty much anything she pleases." This affectionate and witty memoir was named one of the Book Review's 10 Best Books of 2017. THE GOLDEN LEGEND, by Nadeem Aslam. (Vintage, $17.) In a fictional Pakistani town, Nargis, a prominent architect, is suddenly widowed after her husband is killed in an attack. She and others struggle to guard powerful secrets and survive under extremism - offering a window onto the most turbulent and chaotic aspects of real-life Pakistan. But for all its violence, the novel is suffused with hope. BEHAVE: The Biology of Humans at Our Best and Worst, by Robert M. Sapolsky. (Penguin, $20.) What in our bodies - our genes, our hormones - accounts for human behavior? Sapolsky, a MacArthur "genius" grant-winning scientist, offers a wide-ranging study, looking to everything from neurobiology to endocrinology for answers. His delightfully quirky tone and rich array of anecdotes make this book a standout. BEAUTIFUL ANIMALS, by Lawrence Osborne. (Hogarth, $16.) Two wealthy expatriates vacationing on a Greek island become fascinated by a refugee they meet there. Their efforts to help him, though rooted in charity, dovetail with a perverse brand of narcissism, which Osborne captures with a sharp eye. Our reviewer, Katie Kitamura, praised the novel's ambiguous morality, writing, "Osborne is a startlingly good observer of privilege, noting the rites and rituals of the upper classes with unerring precision and an undercurrent of malice." THE COLOR OF LAW: A Forgotten History of How Our Government Segregated America, by Richard Rothstein. (Liveright, $17.95.) Starting in the 19 th century, Rothstein found that virtually every branch of government helped perpetuate pervasive residential segregation, using tactics like racial zoning and biased tax exemptions. In his view, society has an obligation to remedy what he sees as the caste system that resulted. THE RESURRECTION OF JOAN ASHBY, by Cherise Wolas. (Flatiron, $18.99.) A debut novel wrestles with the tensions between familial duty and creative freedom. At 25, the title character has published two best-selling books, but a pregnancy threatens to derail her work. Wolas offers several views of her complex, memorable heroine, and the interplay of Joan's distinct selves - as a mother and as a writer.
Guardian Review
The American poet goes for laughs in recounting her midwest Catholic upbringing, complete with anti-abortion rallies and virginity pledges "My father despises cats. He believes them to be Democrats. He considers them to be little mean hillary clintons covered all over with feminist legfur." Patricia Lockwood's dazzling comic memoir is set in midwest America and centres on a man who likes to clean his gun, listen to Rush Limbaugh and drink from a mug that reads "I love my 'white-collar' job" -- despite being married with five children, he is a Catholic priest. Father Lockwood, as presented here, is a truly unusual man. Upstairs in the family home, he shreds his electric guitar in a prog-rock frenzy and sips cream liqueurs ("He looked like a gigantic brownie drinking drops of dew"). He has a habit of yelling out "Hoooo-eee" for no particular reason, cooks a great deal of meat and dresses either in his full priestly regalia or nothing but his underwear ("He was wearing his most formal boxer shorts, the ones you could almost not see through"). When Patricia was 19, in 2002, she met her future husband Jason on an internet poetry forum. She was living at home -- her father, a "loose, lazy pile of carnality", was happy to spend money on himself but unable to fund his children through college. After months of exchanged messages, Jason drove from Colorado to Missouri finally to meet her. He half-assumed she would be "fifty years old and Latina"; Lockwood was worried that poets "were the sort of people who said 'lo' in conversation". Her parents were naturally wary of the stranger, and Jason was greeted by her father with the screech: "Gimme your license. I got cop friends." Though an immediate marriage proposal took place -- "in the parking lot of ... the most matrimonial of all grocery stores" -- her mother and father were convinced Tricia was about to drive off with a murderer. It was her sister Mary who pointed out that "We are the ones who are not normal". The outline of Lockwood's family story has been known since she was interviewed in the aftermath of " Rape Joke ", her autobiographical poem that, when published in 2013, instantly found a vast online audience. She was at that time already "indie-poetry royalty", in the phrase of the New York Times, thanks to her first collection of poems, Balloon Pop Outlaw Black, and was celebrated too for her "sexts" on Twitter. (Here are three, from 2011-13: "Sext: Botany Class. I do leaf rubbing after leaf rubbing until the teacher kicks me out for Moaning too much"; "Sext: I am a water glass at the Inquisition. You are a dry pope mouth. You pucker; I wet you"; "Sext: I am a Dan Brown novel and you do me in my plot-hole. 'Wow,' I yell in ecstasy, 'this makes no sense at all'".) Called, perhaps too often, the poet laureate of Twitter, she drily notes in Priestdaddy that it took the social-media commotion attendant on "Rape Joke" for mainstream publishers to come calling: the poem was the centrepiece of Motherland Fatherland Homelandsexuals, her second collection, which showcased what the Atlantic magazine has described as her "witty, sexually slippery, polymorphous and Millennially mischievous" work. The writing of a memoir was prompted by Lockwood's return, complete with husband and cat, and after 12 years away, to live with her parents, "penniless, exhausted". Jason was an editor on a small newspaper, who believed he was "destined to be a sort of Leonard Woolf figure"; the couple accepted their "pinched circumstances". When Jason developed a rare eye condition, and they had to raise $10,000 for treatment, Lockwood appealed to her Twitter followers and the money was collected within a day. But the operation went wrong; Jason needed further procedures, and could no longer work. Their only option was a room in the rectory (a sign outside the house reads "God answers knee-mail"). During their nine-month stay, Lockwood finds herself "jotting down everything everyone says, as fast and free as it comes out of their mouths". Her mother rises "to heights of quotability exceeded only by Confucius, Muhammad Ali"; her father shouts at the TV "I like Chunky Soup ... oh yeah ". The New Yorker has described Lockwood as "an exemplar of brilliant silliness", and Priestdaddy is indeed brilliantly silly, with much comedy squeezed out of her Catholic upbringing. (Rumours of Satanists are rife, and new religious robes incite the comment: "The embroidery! Do you see the detail on those lambs!") But the book strikes other notes. It would have been impossible not to address the church's record on child sexual abuse, especially when "the topic of which priests had been removed from their parishes ... was discussed over the dinner table"; the "code of silence" exerted a great power. She reveals that, as a 16-year-old, she took 100 painkiller tablets and had to have her stomach pumped ("Sex would probably have helped," she says of her teenage angst, "but the only thing I was having sex with then was the intolerable sadness of the human condition, which sucked so much in bed"). Between the jokes, there is a fleeting mention of her "childlessness". Lockwood's father was an atheist when he married her mother. He converted when he was working as a naval seaman, serving on a nuclear submarine, and the family legend is that it was due to multiple underwater screenings of The Exorcist : "that eerie, pea-soup light was pouring down, and all around him men in sailor suits were getting the bejesus scared out of them, and the bejesus flew into my father like a dart into a bull's eye". Gregory Lockwood dubbed it "the deepest conversion on record". He became a Lutheran pastor, but later presented himself for ordination as a married Catholic priest, which required a special dispensation from the pope. In due time, he made his terrorised children watch The Exorcist as a "tender rite of passage": "My father attempted to mute the line 'Your mother sucks cocks in hell!' but hit the wrong button on the remote and actually ended up blasting it at maximum volume." Lockwood grew up with pro-life bumper stickers on the family car; she was taken by her parents to anti-abortion rallies. During her early teenage years, she attended a religious youth group called God's Gang, where they spoke in tongues, were told in detail about the sex they shouldn't have, and sang such refrains as "He's a peach of a saviour /He's the apple of my eyes ... And that's why I'm bananas for the Lord!" She carried a card inscribed with the virginity pledge "True Love Waits", and didn't disclose that she had already lost her hymen (she called it her "herman") when she hit the water after jumping off a high diving board: "Suddenly I felt romantic towards the aqua-blue water. I scissored through it in languid strokes and pictured the baby we might make together." Priestdaddy is a haphazard coming-of-age story, but also an account of a writer forming a highly individual worldview Priestdaddy is a haphazard coming-of-age story, but also an account of a writer forming a highly individual worldview, and finding an audience. Lockwood describes the composing of "Rape Joke" -- "It came all at once ... Beads along a razor blade, but now I controlled the cut". The poem recalls an incident from her late teens: "The rape joke is that you were 19 years old. / The rape joke is that he was your boyfriend. / The rape joke it wore a goatee. A goatee." Having been told about the rape, her priestdaddy made the sign of the cross over her head and absolved her of her sins. Lockwood's poems often explore the objectification of, and violence against, women. In this memoir, which depicts her charismatic, dominating father with no malice, she notes: "I know all women are supposed to be strong enough now to strangle presidents and patriarchies between their powerful thighs, but it doesn't work that way. Many of us were actually affected, by male systems and male anger, in ways we cannot always articulate or overcome." In the section entitled "The Cum Queens of Hyatt Place", Lockwood recounts a trip she makes with her mother, who, on arriving for the first time in a hotel room, finds semen stains on the sheets: "This is a Catholic's worst nightmare, souls all over the bed." They wonder who was responsible. "I think it was probably a businessman," Lockwood remarks, "with a hotel fetish, who shouted the word 'amenities!' as he came." Her mother responds, without a pause: "A jizzness man, you mean." Karen Lockwood, it turns out, understands "Pun Lightning, that jolt of connection", and Priestdaddy becomes in one sense a tribute to her, both as an endless resource of love and care, and an intellectual kindred spirit. At the end of the book, Patricia and Jason have moved out of the rectory, and everything is more possible, less desperate. On a cherished holiday in Key West, Florida, Lockwood looks back, in a fine sentence, to previous stays there: "Next to the sea we were submerged, and what we said in the middle of the night did not matter, it was just breathing ... silvery bubbles that wobbled up through the depths." But family remains closer than it was, and on this vacation her mother is with them, liberated for a while from her crazed home and husband. Happy and full of champagne, she drunkenly proclaims -- as her daughter undoubtedly would -- "I love language". - Paul Laity.
Kirkus Review
A noted young poet unexpectedly boomerangs back into her parents' home and transforms the return into a richly textured story of an unconventional family and life.After Lockwood (Motherland Fatherland Homelandsexuals, 2014, etc.) discovered that her journalist husband, Jason, needed lens replacements in both his eyes, the pair "[threw themselves] on the mercy of the church." This meant going to Kansas City to live with her mother and eccentric father, an ex-Navy man and former Lutheran minister-turned-deer-hunting, guitar-wielding Catholic priest. For the next eight months, Lockwood and Jason, who had met online when both were 19 and begun their peripatetic married life not long afterward, found they were like "babies in limbo": dependent on parents after 10 years of living on their own. Throughout, Lockwood interweaves a narrative of those eight months with memories of her childhood and adolescence. Though not always occupying center stage, her father is always at the heart of the book. The author describes her "priestdaddy's" penchant for creating "armageddon" with the guitar, which he treated like some illicit lover by practicing it "behind half-closed doors." At the same time, she confesses her own uncomfortable proximity to church pedophile scandals and clerics that had been forced to resign. Lockwood treats other figureslike the mother who wanted to call the police after discovering semen on a Nashville hotel bed and the virgin seminarian "haunted by the concept [of milfs]"with a wickedly hilarious mix of love and scorn. Yet belying the unapologetically raunchy humor is a profound seriousness. Episodes that trace the darker parts of Lockwood's lifesuch as a Tylenol-fueled teenage suicide attempt; her father's arrest at an abortion clinic sit-in; and origins of the disease and sterility that would become her family's "crosses" to bearare especially moving. Funny, tender, and profane, Lockwood's complex story moves with lyrical ease between comedy and tragedy as it explores issues of identity, religion, belonging, and love. A linguistically dexterous, eloquently satisfying narrative debut. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Library Journal Review
When Lockwood's (Motherland Fatherland HomelandSexuals) husband needed eye surgery to prevent blindness, the young couple, on their own for the last ten years, moved back home with her parents. Lockwood's father, Greg, a Catholic priest, provides the catalyst for this raunchy yet poignant memoir. Converted by seeing The Exorcist while working on a submarine, Greg, who was already married, received special permission to join the priesthood. A loud, ultraconservative gun enthusiast who hates cats and lesbians, he, along with the church, dominates the family. Lockwood's mother, prone to eccentricity herself, once tried to call the police after finding semen on hotel sheets. What rescues this memoir from sheer craziness is Lockwood's beautiful prose and her ability to shift with ease from the comic to the serious, including alluding to a rape and suicide attempt, as well as the pervasive issues of priest abuse and an overzealous pro-life movement. Lockwood is a poet who is known for her clever sexualized images, which at times can seem over the top. Capturing just the right tone, the author performs her own narration. verdict Recommended for memoir and poetry enthusiasts who are not put off by some vulgarity. ["The title and topic will pique interest, and Lockwood's humor and humility make this a worthy purchase": LJ 4/15/17 review of the Riverhead hc.]-Nancy R. Ives, SUNY at Geneseo © Copyright 2017. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.