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...And Then I Would Fly
As a child in the 1980s, Damien lived an idyllic life as the only son to two highly creative parents. He idolized his larger-than-life father, the unemployed musician. His mother, the artist, painted the neighbor children’s portraits and sometimes worked two jobs to pay the mortgage and put food on the table.
When Damien’s mother asked for a divorce, his father initiated a long journey of vengeance with Damien at the center, weaponizing the boy against his own mother. Suddenly, nothing was sacred. As the structure of the family and his father’s mental health crumbled, Damien’s idyllic life became seedy and dangerous.
His father spiraled out of control and vandalized their house, made Damien steal all his baby pictures, and exposed him to violence, drugs, and dysfunction. Eventually, he brought a new eighteen-year-old girlfriend home, who gave birth to Damien’s little sister, Lily. Living in squalor, Damien struggled to emerge with Lily from their dysfunctional father’s grasp.
…And Then I Would Fly is a heartbreaking and lovable memoir masterfully told over several decades, from a chaotic childhood to becoming a father who is still trying to heal himself. Sometimes darkly funny and often gut-wrenching, it is a moving story of an optimistic spirit seeking to thrive against any odds, even when in danger from the people he loves the most.
When Damien’s mother asked for a divorce, his father initiated a long journey of vengeance with Damien at the center, weaponizing the boy against his own mother. Suddenly, nothing was sacred. As the structure of the family and his father’s mental health crumbled, Damien’s idyllic life became seedy and dangerous.
His father spiraled out of control and vandalized their house, made Damien steal all his baby pictures, and exposed him to violence, drugs, and dysfunction. Eventually, he brought a new eighteen-year-old girlfriend home, who gave birth to Damien’s little sister, Lily. Living in squalor, Damien struggled to emerge with Lily from their dysfunctional father’s grasp.
…And Then I Would Fly is a heartbreaking and lovable memoir masterfully told over several decades, from a chaotic childhood to becoming a father who is still trying to heal himself. Sometimes darkly funny and often gut-wrenching, it is a moving story of an optimistic spirit seeking to thrive against any odds, even when in danger from the people he loves the most.
246 pages, Paperback
Published January 6, 2025
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7 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
April 11, 2025
Well written, very frank and open memoir about growing up with flawed role models who haven't emotionally grown up themselves.
May 8, 2025
At its heart, …And Then I Would Fly is a raw, emotional memoir that follows Damien Thompson’s journey through a turbulent childhood shaped by a complex, often painful relationship with his parents, especially his father. Written in vivid, almost cinematic scenes, the book recounts Damien’s early years of wonder, confusion, and heartbreak, all tied up in a quest for personal freedom and self-understanding. His story unfolds like a series of snapshots: joyful moments with his dad, brutal lessons about loyalty, the slow collapse of his family life, and his struggle to make peace with both love and betrayal.
Damien’s writing had a profound and lasting impact on me. He has a way of making even the smallest scenes, like playing with toys in his cluttered closet, feel heavy with meaning. His tone swings between childlike awe and the bruised wisdom of someone much older, and it works. I could practically smell the dusty record sleeves and hear the crackle of that old vinyl player. At times, the prose wandered through rich, detailed memories, but this only made the story feel more authentic, as if someone were sitting across from you, finally sharing everything they’ve carried inside.
One thing that hit me especially hard was the complicated love between Damien and his father. Their bond is so sweet at times, like the way his dad bench-presses him in bed, but it curdles into something darker as the book goes on. When Damien recounts being shoved into the pool during swim lessons or sneaking around reading his mom’s diary at his dad’s request, it’s heartbreaking. His father’s wounds bleed all over Damien’s childhood, and the writing never shies away from that. It made me angry at times, honestly, but it also made me ache for both of them.
What really stuck with me, though, was the way Damien shows how love and damage can come wrapped up in the same package. He doesn’t let anyone off the hook, not even himself. He describes stealing baby pictures from his mom’s house or helping his dad pull a small act of revenge with neon paint, and he does it without glamorizing or justifying it. That brutal honesty is rare. By the end, when he talks about losing his childhood alleyway kingdom and realizing his hero was just a very broken man, I felt like I had lost something too. It’s powerful, messy, and true in a way that polished memoirs often miss.
If you like memoirs that aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty, stories about broken families, complicated love, survival, and growth, …And Then I Would Fly is definitely worth your time. I’d especially recommend it for people who grew up with messy families, or anyone who loves a coming-of-age story that’s more bruised than beautiful. Just be ready: this book doesn’t hold your hand. It hands you the pieces and dares you to put them together.
Damien’s writing had a profound and lasting impact on me. He has a way of making even the smallest scenes, like playing with toys in his cluttered closet, feel heavy with meaning. His tone swings between childlike awe and the bruised wisdom of someone much older, and it works. I could practically smell the dusty record sleeves and hear the crackle of that old vinyl player. At times, the prose wandered through rich, detailed memories, but this only made the story feel more authentic, as if someone were sitting across from you, finally sharing everything they’ve carried inside.
One thing that hit me especially hard was the complicated love between Damien and his father. Their bond is so sweet at times, like the way his dad bench-presses him in bed, but it curdles into something darker as the book goes on. When Damien recounts being shoved into the pool during swim lessons or sneaking around reading his mom’s diary at his dad’s request, it’s heartbreaking. His father’s wounds bleed all over Damien’s childhood, and the writing never shies away from that. It made me angry at times, honestly, but it also made me ache for both of them.
What really stuck with me, though, was the way Damien shows how love and damage can come wrapped up in the same package. He doesn’t let anyone off the hook, not even himself. He describes stealing baby pictures from his mom’s house or helping his dad pull a small act of revenge with neon paint, and he does it without glamorizing or justifying it. That brutal honesty is rare. By the end, when he talks about losing his childhood alleyway kingdom and realizing his hero was just a very broken man, I felt like I had lost something too. It’s powerful, messy, and true in a way that polished memoirs often miss.
If you like memoirs that aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty, stories about broken families, complicated love, survival, and growth, …And Then I Would Fly is definitely worth your time. I’d especially recommend it for people who grew up with messy families, or anyone who loves a coming-of-age story that’s more bruised than beautiful. Just be ready: this book doesn’t hold your hand. It hands you the pieces and dares you to put them together.
October 28, 2025
Perhaps the great value of memoir is its illumination of heroic struggle in common life. It bypasses the completeness of autobiography and paints a fuller picture than anecdote. It accepts the shape imparted by the storyteller to dramatize, delight, or horrify.
You’ll find excellent shaping in …And Then I Would Fly, Damien Thompson’s reflection on a childhood and young adulthood filled with all the family conflict you could ask for in a single life. As a cautionary tale, it’s a familiar enough one, with its shouting matches, endless cigarettes, secret meth addiction, familial neglect, blaring TVs, and domestic filth. But Thompson’s telling takes a can’t-look-away ordeal and adds to it suspense, empathy, pathos.
Thompson grew up in Omaha, the son of a musician/salesman and a painter/gardener. His life fit with the made-for-TV picture of self-destructive families, with its parental discord, divorce, and subsequent blended relationships.
We follow the author from early childhood with its yellow kitchen chairs and broken linoleum floors, up through adolescence and its conflict with parents, on to adulthood with the frequent failings of maturity: DUIs, flare-ups of chronic disease, feuds with friends and extended family.
We see him trying and failing. We see him screwing up. We see him hoping to help his sister and step-sister. We see him attempting to reconcile with his father.
We would like to see him straighten himself out, but this isn’t part of the author’s plan.
One gets hints that progress is being made toward health, such as when the author attends group therapy meetings, or with great feeling assists his sister in her drug-induced distress. But this struggle is never put forward as the prime driver of action.
“We would have big drunken parties,” he writes, “and instead of talking to girls, I would often get annihilated to the point of sickness, spinning and trying to wash myself in the music, the soundtrack to my strife.”
Nowhere in the book does the author even admit straightening up as a thing to be desired, almost as if mental health care were immaterial to the eventual healing of a battle-scarred mind. Yet the tone remains hopeful. Not until the Epilogue do we get any knowledge that the principal characters survived in mostly good health.
…And Then I Would Fly is sometimes a hard book to read, with its sordidness and wealth of bad decisions– the constant drug use comes to mind– but also encouraging. Whatever way he has chosen to tell the story, Thompson has come through hard times and written a book about it. He has organized the demons and trained them to speak.
That by itself is probably redemption enough.
You’ll find excellent shaping in …And Then I Would Fly, Damien Thompson’s reflection on a childhood and young adulthood filled with all the family conflict you could ask for in a single life. As a cautionary tale, it’s a familiar enough one, with its shouting matches, endless cigarettes, secret meth addiction, familial neglect, blaring TVs, and domestic filth. But Thompson’s telling takes a can’t-look-away ordeal and adds to it suspense, empathy, pathos.
Thompson grew up in Omaha, the son of a musician/salesman and a painter/gardener. His life fit with the made-for-TV picture of self-destructive families, with its parental discord, divorce, and subsequent blended relationships.
We follow the author from early childhood with its yellow kitchen chairs and broken linoleum floors, up through adolescence and its conflict with parents, on to adulthood with the frequent failings of maturity: DUIs, flare-ups of chronic disease, feuds with friends and extended family.
We see him trying and failing. We see him screwing up. We see him hoping to help his sister and step-sister. We see him attempting to reconcile with his father.
We would like to see him straighten himself out, but this isn’t part of the author’s plan.
One gets hints that progress is being made toward health, such as when the author attends group therapy meetings, or with great feeling assists his sister in her drug-induced distress. But this struggle is never put forward as the prime driver of action.
“We would have big drunken parties,” he writes, “and instead of talking to girls, I would often get annihilated to the point of sickness, spinning and trying to wash myself in the music, the soundtrack to my strife.”
Nowhere in the book does the author even admit straightening up as a thing to be desired, almost as if mental health care were immaterial to the eventual healing of a battle-scarred mind. Yet the tone remains hopeful. Not until the Epilogue do we get any knowledge that the principal characters survived in mostly good health.
…And Then I Would Fly is sometimes a hard book to read, with its sordidness and wealth of bad decisions– the constant drug use comes to mind– but also encouraging. Whatever way he has chosen to tell the story, Thompson has come through hard times and written a book about it. He has organized the demons and trained them to speak.
That by itself is probably redemption enough.
August 25, 2025
Candid Retrospection
…And Then I Would Fly is a recommendable January 2025 book by Damien Thompson. The 240-page, 46-chapter coming-of-age memoir’s most dominant theme is dysfunctional relationships. In essence, its touching intergenerational narrative is a stark reminder of the life-long effects of broken homes. Better still, it is a cautionary tale about personal decisions like divorce and how, even if unavoidable, they may trigger a cycle of broken homes with devastating blowback effects.
Thompson’s recollection of his earliest childhood memories—of their home, neighborhood, routines, mischiefs, delights, and parents and their associates—in 1980s Nebraska is a heartwarming bliss that sets the pace for his heartbreaking miseries.
By chapter five, his sheltered life in a loving home is shattered by his quivering, crying father’s unbelievable words: “Daddy’s not going to live at home anymore…Mommy wants me to move out.” Thus, Mommy Anne and Daddy Paul’s separation prompts the preteen Thompson’s painful realization: “…my castle walls are crumbling…Everything…was falling apart.”
It is an economical, ethical, familial, medical, psychological, romantic, and sociological downfall, especially for Thompson and his sidekick father despite their valiant attempts to pick up the pieces. No wonder Paul’s interactions with his best friend Bill end, their subsequent relationships are problematic, sister Lily’s own troubles arise, Thompson’s coping mechanism is near-fatal, and there is a series of medical issues, including devastating strokes, and much more.
The book is relatable by virtue of its characters’ humanness such as naughtiness, fallouts, bittersweet memories, hopes, hopelessness, marital woes, setbacks, and comebacks. Some of my favorite sections concern the sack sales, standing up and looking out for his hurt dad, the big talk, counselling, therapy, creating fairy tales, animal symbolism, coincidences, grandparents, acquiring comics, reassurances, philosophical takeaways, and closure.
All along, I especially liked the metaphoric occupation, turn, place, sitting, and standing “in the chair of impermanence”. …And Then I Would Fly is a candid retrospection of many a life well-lived and bad-lived.
…And Then I Would Fly is a recommendable January 2025 book by Damien Thompson. The 240-page, 46-chapter coming-of-age memoir’s most dominant theme is dysfunctional relationships. In essence, its touching intergenerational narrative is a stark reminder of the life-long effects of broken homes. Better still, it is a cautionary tale about personal decisions like divorce and how, even if unavoidable, they may trigger a cycle of broken homes with devastating blowback effects.
Thompson’s recollection of his earliest childhood memories—of their home, neighborhood, routines, mischiefs, delights, and parents and their associates—in 1980s Nebraska is a heartwarming bliss that sets the pace for his heartbreaking miseries.
By chapter five, his sheltered life in a loving home is shattered by his quivering, crying father’s unbelievable words: “Daddy’s not going to live at home anymore…Mommy wants me to move out.” Thus, Mommy Anne and Daddy Paul’s separation prompts the preteen Thompson’s painful realization: “…my castle walls are crumbling…Everything…was falling apart.”
It is an economical, ethical, familial, medical, psychological, romantic, and sociological downfall, especially for Thompson and his sidekick father despite their valiant attempts to pick up the pieces. No wonder Paul’s interactions with his best friend Bill end, their subsequent relationships are problematic, sister Lily’s own troubles arise, Thompson’s coping mechanism is near-fatal, and there is a series of medical issues, including devastating strokes, and much more.
The book is relatable by virtue of its characters’ humanness such as naughtiness, fallouts, bittersweet memories, hopes, hopelessness, marital woes, setbacks, and comebacks. Some of my favorite sections concern the sack sales, standing up and looking out for his hurt dad, the big talk, counselling, therapy, creating fairy tales, animal symbolism, coincidences, grandparents, acquiring comics, reassurances, philosophical takeaways, and closure.
All along, I especially liked the metaphoric occupation, turn, place, sitting, and standing “in the chair of impermanence”. …And Then I Would Fly is a candid retrospection of many a life well-lived and bad-lived.
April 20, 2025
Damien Thompson’s memoir, "...And Then I Would Fly", is a raw, powerful, and deeply affecting journey through the wreckage of a childhood shattered by betrayal, mental illness, and the complex ties of family love. With vivid prose and unflinching honesty, Thompson lays bare the beauty and brutality of his early life; first as a cherished only child in an unconventional, artistically charged household, then as a pawn in his father’s spiraling war of vengeance following his parents' divorce.
At its core, this is a survival story. Thompson captures the way a child's view of the world can be both magical and devastating, how a hero can become a villain, and how loyalty and love can be manipulated into something dangerous. The scenes are sometimes shocking: the father’s descent into chaos, the forced theft of baby pictures, the introduction of a teenage stepmother, and the burden of helping raise a baby sister in squalor. Yet through it all, there is a lyrical current of resilience.
What elevates the memoir is not just its harrowing content but the way it is told. Thompson moves seamlessly across decades, layering childlike innocence with the mature reflection of a man trying to make sense of the damage done. The narrative does not wallow in trauma, it fights against it, often with gallows humor and the unmistakable voice of someone determined not just to survive but to transcend.
"...And Then I Would Fly" is both heartbreaking and hopeful. It is a love letter to those who grow up in the shadows of broken people and still find the strength to build something whole. Damien Thompson has written a memoir that is as emotionally complex as it is unforgettable, a testament to the enduring spirit of a child who dreamed of flying and the adult who still carries those wings.
At its core, this is a survival story. Thompson captures the way a child's view of the world can be both magical and devastating, how a hero can become a villain, and how loyalty and love can be manipulated into something dangerous. The scenes are sometimes shocking: the father’s descent into chaos, the forced theft of baby pictures, the introduction of a teenage stepmother, and the burden of helping raise a baby sister in squalor. Yet through it all, there is a lyrical current of resilience.
What elevates the memoir is not just its harrowing content but the way it is told. Thompson moves seamlessly across decades, layering childlike innocence with the mature reflection of a man trying to make sense of the damage done. The narrative does not wallow in trauma, it fights against it, often with gallows humor and the unmistakable voice of someone determined not just to survive but to transcend.
"...And Then I Would Fly" is both heartbreaking and hopeful. It is a love letter to those who grow up in the shadows of broken people and still find the strength to build something whole. Damien Thompson has written a memoir that is as emotionally complex as it is unforgettable, a testament to the enduring spirit of a child who dreamed of flying and the adult who still carries those wings.
April 26, 2025
...And Then I Would Fly, written by Damien Thompson, presents an authentic account of childhood development in 1980s Omaha, Nebraska. Within a space filled with toys and cartoons and vinyl records, he admires his unpredictable father, who is also brilliant and full of fun. Throughout the narrative, the author reveals deeper truths about the joyful experiences he shares with his father. The story develops as a touching exploration of boyhood and reveals how heroes represent both enchanting magic and imperfect reality.
The author expresses himself through writing that maintains a warm tone while being easy to understand and emotionally charged. The narrator establishes a feeling of personal intimacy starting with the initial sentence lines.
The story’s moderate speed allows readers to experience each scene completely without hurry or drag. Each memory in this story flowed seamlessly into the next until the entire narrative turned into a well-organized bigger picture.
The story contains humorous moments that stem from both the child’s spontaneous actions and his father’s surprising replies to strangers. I smiled throughout the story and occasionally burst into laughter at particular lines.
The book taught me that human beings present a complicated nature because a person who appears strong, talented, and humorous may also battle personal struggles. The book demonstrates how parents influence their children through words but also by creating a sense of being truly seen and valued.
The book appeals to readers who enjoy reading about real experiences, especially when they deal with childhood memories and family bonds and discovering beauty in imperfect environments. I therefore recommend reading it.
The author expresses himself through writing that maintains a warm tone while being easy to understand and emotionally charged. The narrator establishes a feeling of personal intimacy starting with the initial sentence lines.
The story’s moderate speed allows readers to experience each scene completely without hurry or drag. Each memory in this story flowed seamlessly into the next until the entire narrative turned into a well-organized bigger picture.
The story contains humorous moments that stem from both the child’s spontaneous actions and his father’s surprising replies to strangers. I smiled throughout the story and occasionally burst into laughter at particular lines.
The book taught me that human beings present a complicated nature because a person who appears strong, talented, and humorous may also battle personal struggles. The book demonstrates how parents influence their children through words but also by creating a sense of being truly seen and valued.
The book appeals to readers who enjoy reading about real experiences, especially when they deal with childhood memories and family bonds and discovering beauty in imperfect environments. I therefore recommend reading it.
September 1, 2025
Reading the book felt like sitting with someone who’s bleeding out their past in real time—not for pity, but because they have to. The part that stayed with me most was how Damien lets you inside the war in his head while trying to be a decent father, a brother, a human being after everything he’s been through. It’s not clean or redemptive in the way most stories like to tie things up. There are these moments with his son where love and shame are so tangled you can barely breathe, like when they’re playing video games and his own trauma rises up like a ghost—his father’s voice in his mouth, his own self-loathing boiling over. And then just like that, there’s softness. A wrestling match to make peace. A look. An apology. It’s all so fragile and real. The relationship with his sister Lily is just as raw—two wounded people trying to meet each other in the middle of the wreckage, still reaching even while everything between them feels broken beyond repair. What makes this book hit is that Damien never pretends to be a hero or even a victim—he’s just telling the truth, no matter how ugly or painful.
August 26, 2025
Honest look at intergenerational dysfunction
This memoir is a relatable story for anyone trying to conquer the ghosts of their past. It is about coming to terms with imperfection, learning to accept it in others and ourselves.
I like how Damien was able to recognize when he stepped into his father's habits and stop himself from becoming him. He also was different than his father in that he owned up to his behavior and would apologize. This shows how a person doesn't have to be the sum of their past events and actions but can take steps towards positive change.
I think this book provides hope for anyone struggling with substance abuse and unhealthy patterns of behavior. It shows that you can survive the emotional scars of childhood trauma even if they never go away completely.
This memoir is a relatable story for anyone trying to conquer the ghosts of their past. It is about coming to terms with imperfection, learning to accept it in others and ourselves.
I like how Damien was able to recognize when he stepped into his father's habits and stop himself from becoming him. He also was different than his father in that he owned up to his behavior and would apologize. This shows how a person doesn't have to be the sum of their past events and actions but can take steps towards positive change.
I think this book provides hope for anyone struggling with substance abuse and unhealthy patterns of behavior. It shows that you can survive the emotional scars of childhood trauma even if they never go away completely.
June 23, 2025
Lessons on how to be a dad when your dad was a horrible dad. Beautiful story, and you can't help but love this guy.
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews