I liked this book that is not sure what it wants to be - essay, memoir, travel, immigrant, culture. It has a bit of all these in it but for me it falls easiest into the category of essay. While some of these essays have a unifying them, some sort of wander. But I did not find the wandering off putting at all. I enjoyed finding out where Lynch's thoughts would next go. This book starts with a piece labeled "Prologue" and titled "Fit & Start" and it begins on page xv. But it is really the first essay. Then on page xxi is a piece labeled "Introduction" and called "The Ethnography of Everyday Life." This essay sets the tone for book. In it we learn what the author wanted this book to be and how 9/11 changed that: "The book I first imagined [something chatty and jaunty like a good night's talk. Something that would find its market among even a fraction of the forty=some=million Americans alive today who trace their place back to the thirty-two thousand-square-mile island in the sea at the westernmost point of Europe] was no longer possible. Just as our sense of safety here, protected by oceans and the globes' largest arsenal of weapons and resources, was forever shaken, irreparably damaged by the horrors of that day, so too was the sense that ethnicity is always and only quaint and benign. Lost too was the luxury of isolation and purposeful ignorance of the larger world of woes, a taste for which I'd acquired in my protected suburban youth and overindulged throughout my adulthood -- fattening, as Americans especially do, on our certainty that it will all be taken care of by whoever's in charge." (page xxxiv) And the tug between what the author originally wanted and how 9/11 changed that appears throughout the book. And that is not a bad thing.
My favorite essay in the book -- "Great Hatred, Little Room" -- best reflects, I think, how the author was affected by 9/11. The genesis of the essay is the author finding himself stuck in Chicago as a result of a storm that diverted his flight home to Detroit to Chicago. He writes of this desire to get home, his envy of those who have already secured a rebooking, and his interaction with a fellow traveler also waiting. Into that experience, perhaps triggered by the never-quiet news programs on the TVs in the airport, he weaves his thinking about the post-9/11 experience. One theme is how and why religious "beliefs" are used to justify beastly acts. This leads to a discussion of "otherness," or "[h]ow we separate ourselves from other human kinds." Lynch notes that "Religion is just one of the several easy ways for the blessed and elect to remain just that. The haves and the have-nots around the world maintain their status -- as victimizer and aggrieved -- on the narrowest of grounds of difference. Race, religion, tribe, caste, class, club, color, gender, sexual preference, denomination, sect, geography, and politics -- everything we are separates us from everyone else." (p. 195)
Lynch is an author and a poet whose livelihood is as a mortician. He's a baby boomer with adult children, divorced and remarried, who lives in a suburb of Detroit Michigan. He also inherited the family "homestead" in Moveen, County Clare, Ireland. His great grandfather left Moveen for America during the famine years and never returned. Lynch, however, returned in 1970 and developed a deep relationship with the remaining children of his great-grandfather's brother. Nora and Tommy were then in their seventies and the author in his 20's. The relationship that develops is woven through the essays in this book.
I see that my review, like the book, wanders from thought to thought. There is much more in this book, but this review is already longer than it needs to be. Just get a copy and wade in and see what strikes you. No need to rush through it. Take some time and reflect along with the author.