Barry Crump was a titan of New Zealand writing, his semi-autobiographical novels about life as a rugged outdoorsman selling millions of copies. In his time, he was held up as the quintessential Kiwi bloke. He was also an unscrupulous brute, womaniser, alcoholic and absentee husband. And he was the father of six children - all of them boys. For Ivan, Martin, Stephen, Harry, Erik and Lyall, Barry has always been an enigma that casts a strange shadow over their lives. This is their story - the first time they've all gone on record together about their father. Published 25 years after Barry's death, Sons of a Good Keen Man offers straight-and-true anecdotes that grip, entertain, surprise and even provoke a few laughs. Each son writes frankly and movingly about how they have navigated life with and without Barry. Illuminating, essential, at times confronting, and containing never-seen-before photos, Sons of a Good Keen Man is a timely reflection on fatherhood and identity, the legacy of trauma, and how time can both heal and ask new questions.
This book is written by the six sons of Barry Crump. It's not a book about Barry, though he features prominently in it, as do his wives and lovers. It shows the highs and lows of being a iconic New Zealander's son in their own words. A very powerful document.
Real chewy read - growing up we only heard and saw the good things about Barry - so pulling back the rose tinted media coverage was out of it. His boys picked up his knack for storytelling and gave a raw account of what life was like but it wasn't spiteful which was cool, sounds like they have made their peace ✌
It’s sad to think that Barry Crump had six sons that he never wanted to be a father to but when I read about the monster that his own father was it’s unfortunately understandable. Show me the child at the age of seven and I’ll show you the man. An interesting, easy to read account of dysfunctional relationships and broken homes.
Powerful testament from Barry Crump's 6 sons. All had quite different relationships (or not) with him - all have been deeply impacted by his indifference and/or inability to connect with them as a Dad.
The dominant narration is by Martin Crump, well supplemented by his brother Ivan. Then the other brothers - the volume of their input influenced by how often and for how long Barry appeared in their lives. Sometimes his absence is what drives their memories. Martin now administers what is left of the Crump estate for the benefit of the sons. Although it is a double edged sword that Crump's books continue to be celebrated as NZ legends, it feels like some justice that keeping them in print benefits his sons in a way his physical presence never did. I enjoyed hearing that the making of "Hunt for the Wilderpeople" had been a positive experience for them all.
All of the sons are insightful and honest about the impact his sporadic presence and absence has had on their lives, and the women they in turn have had relationships with, and the children they themselves have fathered. Hopefully this book is one more action that helps them to process life with a parent spectacularly missing in action. The difference between their stories and that of so many others, is the visibility and kudos their father had in our public eyes. Can only wish them, and all their offspring, the very best.
Quick to read and pretty engrossing. I knew something of Martin from some of the public appearances that he mentions. His parts were the most fan friendly versions of Barry Crump - as he says he didn’t know him as a dad but did as a friend. But the two other sons that seem to have spent the most time with Barry - their stories are quite scary in parts. Drug addiction and harmful life styles. And who wouldn’t want a dad that drags their fiancé by the hair and slaps her? Knew this stuff about Barry Crump but still startling to read it first hand.
I was curious about wider family experiences, but no surprises here. The difference lenses, writing, impact, and experiences were interesting. The sons tell it like it was/is for them. The book leaves me asking myself, yet again, why do we (NZ) continue to celebrate violent men?