In these times of dire memoirs — hard stories by survivors of war and abuse, emigration and illness — is there a place for an older white guy recalling golden summers of golf and boating? I think there is, when it's written as tenderly as The Summer Friend, Charles McGrath's ode to friendship and nostalgia ... McGrath's memoir is as much about his childhood summers as it is about his summers as a grown-up, and he moves back and forth seamlessly between second person (for the general) and first person (for the specific). That shift keeps the tone intimate but not overwhelmingly self-centered. These things I'm writing about, McGrath seems to say, are things we all understand ... McGrath writes about golf games and boating excursions in perhaps more detail than most would want to read, but the poignancy of the final chapters is genuinely touching. Anyone who has lost a friend will understand.
Sun-drenched and deeply touching ... At first, the narrative’s a bit of a grab bag. There’s some breezy sociological background about the democratization of leisure in America, followed by a darkly comic chapter of family history that doesn’t pull any punches ... The true subject of The Summer Friend isn’t golfing or boating or napping, or any of the other leisure-time activities that McGrath rhapsodizes about. As the title suggests, the heart of the book is the story of a friendship, and this is where it shines ... It’s no spoiler to reveal that Chip G.’s untimely death casts a shadow over the book. McGrath eulogizes his summer friend in the very first chapter, then brings him to life on the subsequent pages with such vividness and palpable affection that the reader forgets his fate for long stretches ... When the end finally comes, in a chapter simply called 'Dying,' it lands like a gut punch. It’s heartbreaking to see Chip G. in his final days, and McGrath doesn’t spare us the painful details. Regretting his previous silence, he writes his dying friend a letter, trying to express his gratitude for their time together, but it’s not enough: 'This book is what I should have given him.' McGrath’s book is an act of love, a fitting tribute to his old friend and a poignant reminder to all of us to squeeze every last drop out of the summers that remain.
... peeks inside the psyche of one such male friendship between not-quite bros forever but seasonal pals. As such, this memoir is pitch-perfect for outdoorsy dads, sons, brothers, uncles, nephews, and the like ... By now, you’ve deduced that this memoir is more about the author than his subject, and parts are achingly sad, particularly when McGrath writes about his parents ... it’s too late for the summer friend, but certainly not for readers.
... affecting ... Mr. McGrath chooses a confidential, relaxed narrative tone that operates without seeming to have designs on his reader. It is quietly assumed that the different activities described are attractive enough to command our assent with no pressure on us to be properly instructed in all of them—we can pick and choose according to our taste. I was an imperfect reader of his longest chapter, 'Messing About in Boats,' since my life has been spent without such messing about, indeed practicing a highly equivocal relation to anything involving deep water. But Mr. McGrath’s modesty is such that he makes no attempt to convince us he’s engaged in something we’d better get on with before it’s too late. If anything, he’s eager to play down the sport and his proficiency in it ... The possibilities for a poignant story ending in death are there, and Mr. McGrath makes plain how devastating was the loss of his friend. But the other Chip, though frequently present and active in the narrative, is not allowed to overwhelm it, and until late in the game remains a steady, inventive partner to the book’s main man, whether in sailing or lobstering or golf ... This memoir is artful but never makes overmuch of the varied kinds of play it finds worth writing about ... The book’s final chapter, 'Dying,' is a painful account of Mr. McGrath’s friend’s death, but the book’s prevailing spirit is wholly life-affirming. It is in the fullness with which things large and small are rendered in all their humorous specificity that makes memorable what might be called the moral of the tale—that 'summer can happen almost anywhere.'
Yes, there are typical pursuits like sailing and golf, but even these are enjoyed in a refreshingly off-kilter manner (sailing small wooden boats, playing on rundown nine-hole golf courses). There’s plenty of time, too, for firework follies, lobster-trapping fiascoes, and a chaotic form of dumpster diving. The fun, inevitably, is curtailed by mortality, but just as McGrath evokes summer pleasures with self-deprecating wit and without sloppy sentiment, he steers a course well away from the maudlin in recounting Chip’s death from cancer.
The strongest parts of the book are about his father and family vacations at a cabin in rural Massachusetts. Here, McGrath really digs deep into his thoughts and feelings about family and the importance to him of the summer season. Less successful are the sections about the friend of the title, Chip. Though McGrath was clearly very fond of his friend, and McGrath’s description of his friend’s illness is moving, there is overall something superficial about how the friendship comes across on the page. We do not get a good sense of who Chip was and why he meant so much to McGrath. Interestingly, McGrath himself remarks at his difficulty at letting Chip know what his friendship really meant to him. Unfortunately, readers do not get much more of a sense of this either ... A readable, if slight, memoir about summer, family, and friendship.
... tender ... McGrath’s prose unspools like a long summer day, full of excursions that set out in vague directions and arrive at delightful places brimming with exuberant sensations ... Through his glowing, retrospective lens, McGrath captures life at its most carefree and meaningful.
