And When Did You Last See Your Father?

In a memoir of his father's life and death, the author asks if we can ever see parents as themselves, why they cannot reveal their secrets to us, and what they take with them that cannot be recovered when they die.

In this moving, eloquent account, Morrison, an English poet and essayist (The Yellow House), reflects on the life and death of his father. A blunt and extroverted physician admired by his patients, Arthur Morrison also delighted in getting something for nothing and often embarrassed his son by sneaking into private tennis and golf clubs. Although he was a family man who loved his wife and children, he conducted a 10-year affair with another woman. As he watches his energetic father grow weaker from the effects of inoperable bowel cancer, Morrison ruminates on the contradictions in his father's character and tries to see him as a person separate from the parent-child relationship. His reminiscence of a rainy camping trip that his father took him on in an effort to become closer to his son is both comedic and heartbreaking. Morrison deals with his grief by eulogizing his father as a human being as flawed as himself but beloved by his son.
Copyright 1995 Reed Business Information, Inc.

British writer Morrison pens a reflective and humorous tribute to his late father, a genial general practitioner with a kind heart, a roving eye, a quick wit, and a penchant for minor duplicities. Morrison deftly juxtaposes robust childhood memories with poignant scenes of his elderly father's rapid decline in health, producing a vivid dual portrait of a man as viewed through the eyes, the mind, and the heart of both a child and an adult. Dr. Morrison's multiple faults and failings are examined as candidly as his virtues, allowing the author to fully explore and analyze the complex nature of the ties that inextricably bind a son to his father throughout the entire course of his life. A tender and therapeutic memoir designed to appeal to anyone who has ever been both enthralled and exasperated by a parent. Margaret Flanagan