Just Let Me Look at You: On Fatherhood

by Bill Gaston

Shortlisted for the 2019 RBC Taylor Prize

From Giller-nominated, award-winning Bill Gaston, a tender, wry, and unforgettable memoir about alcohol, fishing, and all the things fathers and sons won't say to each other

Sons clash with fathers, sons find reasons to rebel. And, fairly or unfairly, sons judge fathers when they take to drinking.

But Bill Gaston and his father could always fish together. When they were shoulder-to-shoulder, joined in rapt fascination with the world under their hull, they had what all fathers and sons wish for. Even if it was temporary, even if much of it would be forgotten along with the empties.

Returning to the past in his old fishing boat, revisiting the remote marina where they lived on board and learned to mooch for salmon, Bill unravels his father's relationship with his father, it too a story marked by heavy drinking, though one that took a much darker turn.

Learning family secrets his father took to the grave, Gaston comes to understand his own story anew, realizing that the man his younger self had been so eager to judge was in fact someone both nobler and more vulnerable than he had guessed.

Warm, insightful, and often funny, Just Let Me Look at You captures every father's inexpressible tenderness, and the ways in which the words for love often come too late for all of us.

Genres: Nonfiction, Memoir

288 pages, Paperback

First published May 8, 2018

Reviews

[Krista · Rating 4 out of 5]

Whether we first met at the door, or in the airport, it was usually evening and his style of greeting wouldn't change much: “Just let me look at you.” Sometimes he straight-armed and cupped my shoulder. Eyes squinting, teary. It wasn't clear if he had me in focus. Or if, like drunks are wont to do, he simply stayed within himself, staying with what he already knew.

Just last week, with no library books that I have on hold due to become available any time soon and nothing in my TBR stack calling out to me, I tried to remember those authors whose works I have particularly liked in order to dive into their backlists; and remembering how struck I had been by many of the short stories in Juliet Was a Surprise, Bill Gaston was one of the authors that I thought I should definitely revisit. And then I went to work and discovered I had an Advanced Reading Copy of Gaston's new memoir, Just Let Me Look at You, waiting for me and that felt fated. I tell this longish story to explain why I read this book, because after having finished it – and loving it – it's hard to imagine why another reader might be compelled to pick this book up: Gaston didn't escape a cult, lose all his limbs in a freak accident, or found a billion dollar tech company; but he has lived a larger-than-average life (from teenaged charter boat captain to semi-pro hockey player to award-winning author), and throughout it all, he has had an unusually complicated relationship with a larger-than-life father. Another reader should pick up this book because while, no, Gaston isn't an ordinary person who survived the worst thing ever and then went on to write an amateurish account of his experience, he is a professional writer who is able to capture and expertly extrapolate the universal from his unique story. I enjoyed this book very much and hope that it gets the audience it deserves. (Usual caveat: I am quoting from an ARC and passages might not be in their final forms.)

I won't turn back. I reckon I'm maybe halfway across anyway. I also know this fear isn't just about the waves and wind. Beneath it a more sober eye knows this is a voyage to my past, upriver – I'll say it – to my personal heart of darkness. I'm going to see my father at his worst. I'm going to visit myself when I was always alone, a hermit, actually, busy worrying but never deciding. I'll remember exactly what my sixteen-year-old mind felt like. And then discover myself too suddenly sixty. I will feel the hell of time. A life almost gone now. Though I can't hear myself over the engine noise and radio static, I whisper, only minimally sardonic: “The horror”. And I crank up the throttle again.

Just Let Me Look at You follows a familiar formula for memoir: Bill Gaston, in memory of his late father, decides to retrace the route through the Salish Sea off B.C.'s coast that he and his father had fished together many times over the years. Gaston describes what he sees in the present (including all of the emotions that the familiar sights bring up) and then allows his mind and pen to drift through history, detailing both his own past and what he was told of his father's past (while foreshadowing that his Dad's stories might not have been the whole truth). The narrative has adventure (with a squealing alternator belt that may or may not pull Gaston's boat through the chop), the interesting nitty gritty of salmon fishing, an environmental subtext (where have all the fish gone?), and the emotional pull of fathers who disappoint their sons through the generations. Looming over everything is Bob Gaston: six foot five and loosey-goosey, he pulled himself out of Depression-era childhood poverty to become an executive at Sears – able to provide his own family with cars and boats and an inground swimming pool – and while he was never mean or violent, Bob was always drunk. And like any teenager, the adolescent Bill eventually decided that his father was too embarrassing to claim as his own.

I pretty much wrote off my father that night. Such a decision isn't exactly conscious, but more something that happens in the body. Constant disappointment becomes a kind of disgust. Eventually a big switch turns off a big light.

And yet, even when Bob was at his worst, Bill always knew that there was love beneath his stumbles and slurs:

A father bragging about his kid was only a hair's breadth removed from bragging about himself. And just as ugly. Uglier. But a contradiction was so confusing it kept me in a kind of mute shock: How could I hate someone whose only drunken crime was to be so proud of me that they couldn't hold it in?

Just Let Me Look at You skillfully balances the past and the present, purposefully sharing bits from here and there, and although the event had occurred years earlier, when Gaston describes his father's passing near the end of this book, it comes at just the right time to have the greatest emotional impact. This is expert memoir in words and pacing.

So instant is my understanding that it will take me years to catch up and comprehend more fully, even as my visual memory of the moment grows less and less sharp. I'll never fully comprehend, or be able to describe it well enough, even to myself. It's a teaching unlike any other I've had. What my father showed me has let me not only understand him, but everyone. And, with no effort involved at all, to forgive. This understanding, and its forgiveness, includes myself.

This book has appeal on many levels – the scenery, the history, the fishing, fathers and sons – but primarily, it's simply a well-written account of how some humans made their way through life; and that ought to be of interest to all.

[Lori Bamber · Rating 5 out of 5]

What a book! There were moments when I thought about giving up, because there was just too much information about fishing. There were moments when I was ashamed for the writer and for his father, the relationship that the book is primarily about. There were many moments when I wished for them both to get to a 12-step program. (This is a book about why we come to depend on escape from our emotional reality and what it does to our ability to trust ourselves and others, as much as it is about our relationships with our parents.)

Ultimately, this is a wise, ruthlessly honest and beautifully written book about what it means to be human, what happens to the human psyche when, as children, we cannot trust the adults around us, and how that translates into intergenerational dependence on perilous forms of escape from our inner discomfort.

A entirely unique masterpiece.

[Sabiha · Rating 2 out of 5]

Thank you to Bill Gaston and Hamish Hamilton for giving me the chance to win an uncorrected proof through Goodreads Giveaways. It tells the story of a man's journey into reminiscing and unravelling the truth about his father, helping to better understand his own story. He returns to past fishing locations that him and his father journeyed years ago, in his old fishing boat. Fishing is a crucial element in this book as it is something father and son held dear. I had high hopes for this book, but it was only mediocre-- and much of this was for personal reasons.

What I really enjoyed about this book were the memories told throughout. They are brought up and casually intertwined into Bill's current fishing trip. The memories are personal and made me feel connected to Bill and his mother. I also got both sides of Bill's father, the light and the dark side. It was refreshing to have Bill be able to look at his father from a neutral perspective and come to understand why he did what he did. The memories are written with such clarity and vibrance, like they happened just yesterday. These are worth reading.

Bill Gaston and his father held fishing as a common bond, so I expected fishing to be a central theme but not in the capacity that it was. Much of the book - I'd say about half- discusses various fishing terms and theories, many of which I didn't follow and wasn't particularly interested in. This meant that half the book wasn't my cup of tea. I expected this book to be more about deeper fishing memories with his father. For people who enjoy fishing, even to a limited capacity, and who understand the terminology, you will enjoy all aspects of this book.

[A. H. Reaume · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book needed a sensitivity reader. It’s important for white writers to talk more carefully about race. Not recommended for Asian readers since his father hates all Asian people due to fighting in WW2 and this could have been handled more sensitivity. the writer also seems to feel a need to tell a bunch of stories where he encounters Asian tourists in rural BC and this seems to be interpreted by him as a bad thing? If he’s afraid of the places being more exposed - he doesn’t need to mention they’re Asian tourists. He can just say tourists. The fact that he feels he needs to mention their race makes me feel like this writer has an unconscious bias against Asians. A lot of the mentions of racialized characters made me uncomfortable. Publishers - respect your readers enough to hire sensitivity readers. Or better yet - hire more BIPOC as editors.

[Susan McCusker · Rating 1 out of 5]

Might be the worst book I have ever read. He says at the end of his book he finally forgave his father but anyone reading the book will figure out pretty quickly that is not true. He spends the entire book trying to make his father look stupid and bitching about how unmagical his childhood was because he had to select his gifts from the entire SEARS catalogue. So angry and so incredibly petty. Grow up.
Then he throws in a bunch of excruciatingly boring fishing stuff. What's the Steinbeck quote about 'matching wits with a fish'? The RBC Taylor prize???

[Harry Junior · Rating 4 out of 5]

An uneven read, with many wonderfully human moments. The fishing descriptions seemed long at times, but never truly boring. I could picture the geography. I've been to many of those places and seen a few of the harbors.

Sometimes I got the impression he took long breaks while working on the book. Some passages felt tacked on. But the time spent with his father, the understanding that came with time, was something deeply meaningful. I'm glad I read it.

[litost · Rating 4 out of 5]

OMG, a whole book about fishing & drinking! Bill Gaston is a very good writer, so almost pulls it off, but stretches it out too long - we get early on how serious his father’s alcoholism is. There’s also a meanness to Gaston’s detailed descriptions of the things his father did while drunk, which seemed unnecessary, feels like Gaston needed to vent. I love Gaston’s fiction, so was interested to learn more about him, but could only recommend this to a select few.

[Davide Pacitti · Rating 2 out of 5]

The parts that I enjoyed the most were the ones focused on their relationship, the memories of his father and his conflicting sentiments for him (kind of what I was expecting to read). Although fishing was one of the main things (or the only) bounding father and son, there was a bit too much of it. The descriptions of the fishing trips were diluting a lot the parts I was enjoying reading the most, to the extent that I was about to give up the read a couple of times.

[Kevin · Rating 1 out of 5]

A very boring book about fishing and the Sears department store. It’s marketed as being about fatherhood, but it is actually just about his father. Therefore, this book is for a VERY limited audience: people who knew his dad. Other than that, it has no reach.

Again, Just Let Me Look at You: On Fatherhood is a book recounting fishing stories. If that’s your jam, read it. If it isn’t, don’t. I’m serious. You have been warned. Anyone who says “this is a touching novel about a relationship between a boy and his father, written by the man the boy became after realizing what fatherhood truly is” either didn’t read the book or doesn’t want to insult author Bill Gaston.

A little bit of alcoholism thrown in there, but it feels token. The BANAL FISHING STORIES completely overshadow anything touching that could come from overcoming this huge obstacle in a father-son relationship.

Why do good memoirs rarely come from accomplished novelists?

[Noelle Walsh · Rating 3 out of 5]

A touching memoir or a man reminiscing about his father. Told as memories while taking a fishing trip, the author tries to make sense of the man he called father. It's a very personal story and I'm not sure that it's for everyone. Anyone who likes reading memoirs might like it.


*Won as a GoodReads Giveaway*

[Susan Kirk · Rating 5 out of 5]

Great Book loved it .

[Sophie Crocker · Rating 5 out of 5]

obviously great

[Debbie Bateman · Rating 4 out of 5]

Dan Gaston explores the complex relationship he had with his alcoholic father with breathtaking honesty. He delves as deeply into his own actions and motives as those of his father. Through the everyday moments they shared, he finds compassion, and a love that both enlightens and endures. I was heartened by this book, and will be certain to reread it any time I am thinking about what may be the ultimate test of love, which is to be present for our parents as they age and die, and to do that with forgiveness. His writing is masterful. With every word, I was reminded that the profound lives in the ordinary and the moments are our life.

[Eva · Rating 4 out of 5]

Bill Gaston's memoir of growing up with his father and their shared moments are very touching.
As we are reading his stories, it's like you are watching everyday life on TV with all the family drama. Although his father had a drinking problem, Bill still shared bittersweet memories of their times together as a child, teenager and adult.

Thank you GoodReads for the book.