What begins as an excavation of childhood trauma gradually becomes something rarer and more enlightening: an account of what happens when forgiveness arrives only after the parent who most needs it begins losing the ability to understand it ... The epistolary form is an inherently precarious one, especially when addressed to a parent. It can easily veer into sentimentality, a pitfall Quick mostly avoids, even if a few passages edge in that direction.
...he writes about his worst moments with his father with great insight and even tenderness for the damaged little boys deep inside both of their psyches. He also offers a poignant account of the impact of dementia ... Quick admits he was 'terrified of putting this book into the world,' but ultimately believes that sharing his personal story will have a larger impact: “=I don’t write these words to condemn you. I write them to show other men what is possible when we allow love to lead us out of the darkness.' He achieves this goal with Dad, Love, Me.
While sometimes overwrought or seemingly a bit calculating, Quick’s open-book nature and engaging voice nevertheless create an informative and often moving story, one he hopes will help other men in similar situations.
Warning the reader of what’s to come, he alternates between grueling evocations of his past and more measured ones of more recent years. For all its heavy subject matter, the book has a remarkably light touch and sense of grace. In addition to recounting his own experience, Quick draws inspiration from helping those men who might have the same sort of struggles with their own fathers. A poignant account of not-quite-finished business.
