Only Son

Moffet writes about fatherhood and the bittersweet passage of time in his quietly beautiful debut novel (after the story collection Further Interpretations of Real-Life Events). After the unnamed narrator loses his dad at the age of nine, his paternal grandmother hauls away his father’s possessions. Like the marks left on the carpet by his dad’s now absent recliner, the boy’s memories of his father fade over time. A desultory childhood in a 1980s Florida suburb follows, during which the narrator watches so much TV that “it feels like a punishment.” He attends karate classes, where he sits through lectures from a sensei who sees himself as a role model for at-risk boys. The only real kindness he remembers comes from a neighborhood boy who had lost his father to prison. From there, the novel jumps forward 25 years. The narrator has become a writing professor outside of Los Angeles and father to a son. He feels just as rudderless as a parent as he did as a fatherless son. “I wish I’d inherited some traditions from my father,” he thinks. “I’m mostly trying to be present... and known.” He ruefully notes how his son transforms from a boy who runs to his parents with all his questions and fears into a sullen teenager, now impenetrable behind his earbuds. Along the way, Moffet keenly traces the grace attained through the long arc of acceptance. Readers will be moved. (Nov.)