This book is just great. J.R. grew up without a father, and looking for male models, he found the fellowship of the men at The Tender Bar. The way he writes about these people makes you know them, and love them, just as much as he does.
The book is about people, but also the hard work of growing up. Being so attached to a bar J.R. makes a good job. Reading the last pages I had tears in my eyes, due to the pure beauty of what he writes.
There are a lot of memorable passages. About his father not being cut to be a father, but J.R. wanting to be a father's son (p.150). He says farewell saying "You drive like nuns fuck".
A priest gives advice (p202): "Do you know why God invented writers? Because He loves a good story. And He doesn't give a damn about words. Words are the curtain we've hung between Him and our true selves. Try not to think about the words. Don't strain for the perfect sentence. There's no such thing. Writing is guesswork. Every sentence is an educated guess, the reader's as much as yours. Think of that the next time you curl a piece of paper into your typewriter." (This makes me think of the way of mastery, how you can master a thing only when you no longer have to think about it.)
J.R. makes a mistake writing an article and is all upset. Until Bob the Cop tells a story and ends it with: "Honest mistake. Like I told you, that's why they put erasers on pencils. But J.R., believe me. They do not put erasers on guns." (The USA, hello!?)
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