Priestdaddy: A Memoir

I came to read Patricia Lockwood through the London Review of Books, having enjoyed some of her short pieces there. As a recovering Catholic, whose family moved constantly through my youth, I immediately identified with her goofy upbringing - though mine was perfect in every way. The memoir is written with real affection, especially toward her mother and siblings, and frustration reserved for her father, the priest. There's no evidence of priestliness anywhere to be found, except perhaps in his emergency responses to parishioners' calls to bless the dead and dying. Grandiosity and baroque undress are his specialties. The author's memoir is suffused with great tales of growing up on the move, not having any sense of permanence or long-term friendships. Moreover, she observes, she can't identify herself as an individual until she becomes an adolescent, at which time the leering male world takes notice. Then, she's treated as a feminine creature with limits imposed by men. The reader's window into that part of her life, along with her reflections on what might have been if she had not been hurt or wounded by anger, make the book worth the read. Ms. Lockwood is a thoughtful writer whose prose is intelligent and mellifluous without posing. Now and then, she riffs on a topic and the writing really takes off. Fair enough that her reflections include characterizations of Emily Dickinson, whose isolation and sense of self frame her poetry.I may have assigned half a star extra for the lovely final chapter, in which she reflects on the tenuousness of family and love and mortality. The only defect of the memoir, in my mind, comes when she diverts into important social and political matters such as feminism, only to smother her writing with thoughts common to the topics at hand. There's no gold there, but there's plenty in her father's monstrance or in the sunlight in Key West or in her mother's love. I could have stayed with this family a while longer. And did I mention that it's barking mad funny? Well, it is.

I first started reading this book about a year ago. Got about 40% through and just had to stop. I would have given it 2 stars at that point. I could not stand the author's parents and couldn't imagine going back as a married adult to live with them, no matter how hard up you were.But the book got such good reviews from reviewers I admire! So kept it on my "to read" list, and came back to it here in 2023. I now give it 4 stars. I continued from where I left off, but now for some reason can see the family in a more compassionate light. Patricia's father is mentally challenged, and her mother has "gone down the rabbit hole" with him, but she's a woman with boundless love and compassion for her children. I understand why Patricia could 'stick with' her family while still questioning almost everything about the way they live their lives. A good book; it will stick with me.

The premise of this book sounded fun and I could imagine great stories from a devilishly incorrigible child raised in a home with a father who is a priest. There was so much potentiaal, and some of the stories are, in fact, humorous. I am just not cool enough to understand the dialogue of the author who is always overly dramatic, uses oblique references and wants to shock you at every turn with her attempt to be the complete opposite of her religious parents. Coupled with her "way too hip" references on all things from Twitter rants to a whole chapter devoted to semen stains on a hotel bed, I just could not finish this book. I am far from prude and initially laughed at her mother's response to the stains on the bed, but after about 200 slang references to the "fluid" I just could not read/listen further. I also pride myself on trying to stay relevant to the younger generatiion's terms and references, but she just goes way too far to shock the reader. I get it, it is her attempt to be cool and hip, and in reality I believe it is her personality to be the shocking and diabolically rebellious child of her religious parents. In her defense, half of what grated on me was the narration in the audiobook version which I believe was read by the author and completely over-acted with grating and unbelieveably over done voices! Could have been a really good book, but there were just too many obscure references for me to finish the book.

I read everything, I read all the time, a whole lifetime of reading. I laughed out loud at this book more than I think any other. More than David Sedaris even. More than Bill Bryson, Mary Roach, Steve Almond, Sara Bareilles, or lots of other authors that really nail my sense of humor. (Why are memoirs the funniest genre? Discuss.) This author is a maestro of our gorgeous complex shifting humongous mother tongue. Such, such a pleasure.

Priestdaddy is a hilarious adventure that I wish I could have seven different versions of for every time I need a book with substance that will also make me laugh out loud in the middle of the night when I can't sleep. And what a strange world Patricia takes us into - the behind the scenes of a priest and his family. I left wishing I could be friends with her because I know if I were having a bad day, I could call Patricia and she would make me laugh but also give me sage advice that would stay with me forever, just like her book.

Growing up Catholic provides a moral compass that requires a life that can only look north and south, not east or west or360.The Baltimore Catechism is a box to confine one, starting with “Who made me?” and proceeds from there to the core of all Judea-Christian theology: guilt😇Carry your cross and mind the Church of the patriarchy in charge.This female author, Tricia Lockwood, made this male recovering Catholic laugh 😂 out loud as she chronicles (to use an appropriate word from the Christian lexicon) her life in the family of a priest, her daddy.The title caught me and the story exonerated me of my evident apostasy.Hilarious and damning and beautiful and sad,And always poetic and often brilliantly true to our human condition.I highly recommend it, especially to Catholics and the atheists produced by spinning 360 out of the box. . .

Often like poetry prose, Patricia Lockwood has a great turn of phrase and the warmth and love with which she writes is a joy to read. In a world where everything is polarised, it is wonderful to read someone writing about family she profoundly disagrees with in a way that is well-rounded, charming and loving. You feel like you’re sharing your own family’s stories when reading those of her unusual tribe. A wonderful book.

Le premesse erano buone ma il tutto è raccontato in modo confusionario con parole che sembrano accostate a caso. Il suo padre, prete, sembra un maschilista, bigotto testa di cavolo, odioso in ogni episodio descritto, anche se non credo fosse quello l'intenzione della scrittrice

The book is written so well it's as if I'm living their life with them and it really makes you feel part of them as a whole.

Her memories, humor, and insights are wonderful, but her language is like no other I have read. I read slowly and recursively so I could taste all of her words completely and relive being startled by their rightness.

This is the most astonishing, glorious book I’ve ever read. It’s full of amazing images, extremely wise observations, lilting language, and ... there are whole chapters that make you laugh. But then, Patricia Lockwood is a poet blessed with a truly crazy family, including a father who became a Catholic priest after marrying and having five children with his red-haired wife of Irish descent. There are bits to make you angry too. I stopped reading to give a silent ear-bashing to those who defend paedophile priests when she discussed that issue. And what’s not to love about the image of her husband Jason wearing silver knee-high boots to school till the age of eight? The quirkiest, most profound, most lyrical book ever. “Awesome “, as people used to say relentlessly, and which she reminds us of.