Edward Cooper is a hard man to know.Dour and exuberant by turns, his moods dictate the always uncertain climate of the Cooper household. Balding, octogenarian, and partial to a polyester jumpsuit, Edward Cooper makes an unlikely literary muse. But to his son he looms larger than life, an overwhelming and baffling presence.
Edward's ambivalent regard for his son is the springboard from which this deeply intelligent memoir takes flight. By the time the author receives his inheritance (which includes a message his father taped to the underside of a safe deposit box), and sees the surprising epitaph inscribed on his father's headstone, The Bill from My Father has become a penetrating meditation on both monetary and emotional indebtedness, and on the mysterious nature of memory and love.
Bernard Cooper has won numerous awards and prizes, among them the PEN/Ernest Hemingway Award, an O. Henry Prize, and literature fellowships from the Guggenheim Foundation and The National Endowment of the Arts.
He has published two memoirs, Maps to Anywhere and Truth Serum, as well as a novel, A Year of Rhymes, and a collection of short stories, Guess Again.
His work has appeared in Harper's Magazine, Gentleman's Quarterly, and The Paris Review and in several volumes of The Best American Essays.
He lives in Los Angeles and is the art critic for Los Angeles Magazine.
Cooper is an unsympathetic narrator. And he makes his father that way as well. I found the book beautifully written, lyrical in places, especially at the beginning, but hollow. I got bored with it because it wasn't so much about the story as it was about the teller of the story. In the end I found myself wondering if in his afterlife Ed sees himself as Lazarus, the headless chicken: just another dog and pony show. I found his characters to be stock, stereotypical (yes, yes, I know stereotypes exists for a reason -- my dad was a drunk Irish Catholic Cop -- but what made him interesting were his quirks that defied that stereotype, not those that conformed to it). Can our writing be too perfect? Should it incorporate a sense of the messiness of the relationship about which we are talking? Can the evanescent perfect word be the wrong word? These are the questions the book left me with. I tried to find something nice to say about the book, something more than yeah, pretty words, but I keep coming back to a line from Blazing Saddles: Hedley Lamarr: My mind is a raging torrent, flooded with rivulets of thought cascading into a waterfall of creative alternatives. Taggart: God darnit, Mr. Lamarr, you use your tongue prettier than a twenty dollar whore. Yeah, that sums it up.
What a writer. Wow. Exquisite all over the place. My one criticism of the novel is that the author seems to lack awareness of how terrible his father was. It's understandable - and probably common - for the child of a man so psychologically abusive to be plagued with (unmerited) guilt and to seek love and approval from that parent. But what is less understandable is that the author never seems to come to an understanding of just how abusive his parent was. Granted, his father had charm, ferocity of character, humor (albeit denigrating to those at whom it was directed). But his father was a womanizing psychological manipulator of the first order. The lawsuits he filed crippled innocent people financially and emotionally. But the author is forever forgiving his father, seeking his approval even after death, rather than seeking a fortification of his own mental health -- or a realization that his father had serious problems and that he, the son, was not the source of those problems. Despite the lack of a whizz-bang revelation for Cooper, it seems that a lot of demons by exorcised for him by writing the novel. The book is very satisfying, one I would definitely recommend.
Check out the cover. Claustrophobic memoir of the dysfunctional relationship between the author and his eccentric, stubborn father, who at one point sends his son a bill in the mail accounting for the cost of his upbringing. It's not a happy book.
I'm writing a memoir about a complicated father. Well, mine actually. Spoilers below.
My writing was compared to Cooper's at a recent writing workshop I attended, and I had to admit I did not know who he was. Given his level of success, I thought it in my best interest to read and compare for myself.
The book's narrative skeleton chronicles over 15 years of the author's father descending into dementia and ultimately death. Cooper fleshes out this difficult relationship with his father, including the titular bill the author received, asking him to repay $2,000,000 in expenses for raising him.
Cooper is lyrical and deft with metaphor. I felt outmatched compared with him. He sparingly sows seeds that flower in alternately poignant and hideous bouquet. He shares my love of polysyllabic words and wry, interrogatory asides that expand the smallest oddity in detail, approaching hilarious absurdity at times (He even uses parentheticals like I do.). In only one chapter did I sense the effort behind his cleverness. And in that chapter I felt hope, that even the most celebrated writers sometimes over-write, too clever by half. Masterful dialogue, and an easy-to-love pace. Or maybe that's because I did find his pace somewhat similar to mine? Do you mine a pace? Strip mining? Heap-leach cyanide extraction, gleaning profit from the poorest ore? Or, did I mean "similar to my pace?"
That kind of writing. The topic is sheer voyeurism examining mortality and the likelihood that one cannot escape becoming one's father to some degree. If that seems appealing, I recommend this book without hesitation,
Another memoir about a parent so awful and difficult that it has to be completely true. What surprised me was how willing the author was to believe his father would behave in a normal manner and tell the truth. His repeated bad experiences should have told him not to trust him, but he continues to come back for more punishment. Edward Cooper (the father) was a liar as well as a misogynist, but there had to be some sympathy for a man who lost 3 of his four sons. The mother wasn't very understandable or fleshed out. This is a well-written and fiercely observed memoir;my dysfunctional memoir shelf is quite full.
Edward Cooper, a divorce lawyer who lived in LA never felt comfortable in his own skin. He was always prickly to his sons, unfaithful to his wife, and turned everyone who contacted him with a grievance into an enemy. Bernard Cooper, his son tries to add flesh to the bones of this memoir. Edward faced the deaths of his wife and three sons before he succombed. He wore a jumpsuit every day after retirement, to keep things simple. Mose unbelievably, Edward sent Bernard a bill for what it cost to raise him. Another sysfunctional family...
While this book was beautifully written, I became direly impatient with the subject, the father. The on and on butting of heads type of relationship between the author and his father, became so tiring, I couldn't continue and just skipped to the back of the book to see how it ended. I have never done that before. Yet, the writing style of Bernard Cooper was just wonderful. I think it was just the subject matter in this book that I found irritating, and therefore, I would attempt to read another of his books; perhaps it would be enjoyable for me.
I wanted to like this book, perhaps being endorsed by David Sedaris raised my expectations too much. The writing was beautiful but the story was grasping especially toward the end. Cooper's relationship with his father seemed hardly something to write an entire book about. Dysfunctional families are a dime a dozen, successful stories find humor or some poignant realization in the stories that make anyone who didn't experience them cringe. Cooper's story is neither funny nor poignant. Were it not for the flow of the writing I would have put this book down after only a few pages.
The writing deserves four stars but the content is challenging in this memoir of a maligned and manipulated son of a narcissistic lawyer whose erratic behaviour leaves a trail of victims throughout his family. He lost three sons, but somehow never seemed to learn how to love the one who remained, constantly seeking his approval. I could not understand the depth of guilt the author seemed to feel while doing his best to please and help an unpleasable, unassistable man.
One of the best memoirs I've read in a very long time. Cooper is clear-eyed, completely unsentimental, funny, clever in the way he approaches this story. He captures precisely the very awkward and confusing love between a father and son. Loved it!
Cooper's father Ed has never been a very pleasant man, and it's only gotten worse as he's aging. He answers all questions with a question e.g. "How are you feeling? "How should I be feeling?" He rarely pays a compliment, and has his only surviving son convinced he is a disappointment. Nevertheless, as writer Bernard decides to write about him he tries to get to know him better, but ends up angering him with questions or offers of help. Ed has faced hardships, from fleeing Russia in his childhood to the loss of 3 sons, then his wife. But he is a difficult man, believing in his own intelligence as firmly as he believes in everyone else's lack of intelligence, always eager to use his skills as a lawyer against others, including 2 of his 3 deceased son's widows, who he sues for repayment of what he claims were loans to his sons when they worked as partners in his law firm, and including the titular bill he sends Bernard, out of the blue, for everything he has spent on him in his lifetime, like food, sports equipment etc. And as Ed descends into dementia he becomes even more ready to fight, threatening meter readers, refusing to pay phone bills, even though it eventually leads to the loss of the long time family home. The author's writing manages to convey small details of their interactions, his own feelings of frustration, alienation, and guilt over his own part in their battles, even though he's often not sure what that might have been, with some humor, and with the empathy and support of his partner. It may sound grim, but it wasn't- it just brought this unique, cantankerous man to life in a way that made me sorry when he 'lost his mind,' and when he died.
At the time I read this book I only knew Bernard Cooper as the author of some very fine short stories which I had read in various pre or immediate post millennium anthologies. I could not get hold of his novels or short story collections, they were not published in the UK, but amazingly my local library system had this work.
This is a memoir and it is about his father and I am always succor for books about fathers - but simply because the author is gay do not imagine this a memoir involving gay son coming to terms with distant father trope, no it was more interesting because of the dynamic of Cooper's father who was one of those powerful, and powerfully connected, American lawyers/fixers (based in California if I remember rightly) and it was very much a portrait of that powerful and what happens you get old and things fall apart.
I will be honest and admit my recollections of the book are poor, only my memory of how much I liked it. Also on the strength of it Cooper's novel and short story collection are on my to-buy-next list, but it is a long list!
Cooper has a very surprising and twisty writing style that's addicting but slow to get into at first. It's quirky, emotionally distressing and leaves me frustrated with thoughts about family life and how difficult it can be if you don't feel loved by a parent. His father was portrayed as difficult, emotionally unavailable but witty and charming - a force to be reckoned with. At times I felt he was narcissistic and helped create the insecurity that haunted Bernard his whole life. But that's only one perspective. The question that is unanswered is how much of that relationship's toxicity was also Bernards fault. He did his best to love his dad and earn his respect but also he could have acknowledged his dad as a lost cause as a good father and not have expected anything at all from him. From my view the pain he felt from being estranged and rejected by his dad is his own to overcome. He shouldn't have taken it so personally. His father's flaws are not his cross to bear.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
I really enjoyed this book. Bernard Cooper has been recommended to me several times, and I’m glad I finally sat down and read one of his books, and I’m already looking forward to the next one! I think he’s a superb writer, one who infuses his content with clarity, humor, and careful attention. Also, it doesn’t hurt that this entire book dealt with Cooper’s dysfunctional relationship with his father, and I just really loved how he presented himself, his father, and their relationship. Not sure if people who have “healthy” familial relationships would feel the same attachment to Cooper, but I definitely felt a kinship and left the book feeling a little less alone in some of my own situations, which, I think, is one of the great accomplishments of literature and writing—to help others feel more connected, less alienated.
Well written but blah. So he had an eccentric dad. Many do. Dad wasn't all that over the top to have a book written about him--outside of the suing his daughter-in-laws for loans he made to his sons. Not a big fan of this book.
This is a fascinating, mesmerizing, heartbreakingly poignant book. And every word of it is allegedly true.
The author apparently many, many, many years ago wrote an essay about infidelity for an unnamed swanky magazine. Of the many stories related in the essay, one of them concerned Bernard's father who had been busted for his infidelities because of (and I am not making this up) a lipstick stain near the front flap of a dirty pair of boxer shorts. The story never says if Bernard's mother called him on it. It just relates mother's reaction as she stands in the kitchen with a dirty pair of boxers coming up with any number of possible scenarios that could explain this errant mark.
The essay was a bit of a success and the publisher of said magazine offered Bernard a full book. A book about his father. This is that book.
Bernard's father is Edward Cooper, a rather well-known attorney, famous for odd verdicts in high-profile divorce cases (in one instance, he managed to convince a jury that a wife was using cooking as an excuse to get out of her "wifely duties"). He is a man who lives and dies by the law. Being a lawyer seems, in retrospect, to be all he ever was.
Bernard is the youngest of four sons. By the time the book opens, the other four brothers have passed away. Two of the brothers devoted their lives to lawyerly pursuits, even going so far as to partner with their father. The fourth brother was a private investigator who specialized in divorce cases, most of which were handled by their father. The three brothers were clearly much-loved. Bernard being fifteen years younger than the youngest of the three elder brothers, being interested in the arts, and, oh yeah, being homosexual, spent most of his life estranged from his father.
In fact, many years pass between interviews for the book in progress. Each of these sessions ends in an explosive argument and Bernard is thrown out of his father's house. Years will pass before Edward will call again, each time acting as if no argument ever took place.
This book is an interesting look at an eccentric and lonely man. A man who clearly loves his son but doesn't know how to relate to him. And in his last few years, after being diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease, forcing Bernard to take care of him, some unusual idiosyncrasies come to light. Idiosyncrasies that seem to be in effect solely to keep those he is attached to from ever being able to sever their ties. The most notable example is a series of lawsuits filed against the widows of his deceased sons, lawsuits to recover monies given to them over the years. The strangest, though, is a lawsuit filed against Bernard himself, to the tune of two million dollars, asking Bernard to recover the costs of raising him. The lawsuits were never pursued, but they were filed.
I enjoyed this book a great deal. Cooper writes with such grace that you find it difficult to do anything but feel sorry for this withered old man. I will be perusing the library system for other books by this author.
The title, The Bill from My Father, serves as a reminder throughout the book that there is a reason Cooper keeps his father at arm’s length most of the time–sometimes even farther, such as when he let a period of several years ago by without communication. The title refers to the father sending his son a bill for the cost of bringing him up. The father is a “character,” in the sense my mother means–somebody I would call a “piece of work.” His son tries to make sense of the man and of his own feelings about his father in this remarkable memoir.
The father seems to get progressively crazier as he ages. It eventually becomes clear that he has Alzheimer’s, but Cooper doesn’t have this context for his father’s nutty or dangerous antics until he comes to this realization. Since the father has always been a difficult person and the onset is so gradual, it seems as if his odd behavior is just part of who he is/was.
There is a scene where the old man attacks the DWP man with a potato peeler. Twenty pages later, after his father has died and Cooper wants to open the packaging of a video (it’s a Christian video about Hell and was given by the father’s caregiver/girlfriend–the Cooper family is Jewish), Cooper accidentally picks up a potato peeler. In this passage, we see him re-thinking his views on his father. I love the way the action functions as a metaphor of sorts. We are used to “things” being metaphors or symbols, but it’s Bernard’s absentminded grasping of the potato peeler that seems more potent because it echoes his father’s earlier action which was viewed as nutty.
If you have had a difficult parent, this book is a must-read. If you have a parent with Alzheimer’s or have struggled with conflicted feelings about an aging parent or a parent who has died, this book is a must-read. Even if none of those applies to you, the book is a must-read.
This book was chosen for this month's read by our men's reading group. It will be interesting to see what kind of discussion comes out if it. One friend who recently finished it described it as a train-wreck from start to finish and, in a sense, that's not a bad summation of the relationship between father and son. The author is startlingly frank about his relationship with his male partner - perhaps more so that one might expect of someone speaking of their marital relationship with their wife, but although he alludes to sex he refrains from getting graphic, thankfully. While there is some humor in it, I didn't find it particularly funny but to the contrary, I found it rather sad to see a dysfunctional relationship that was never ultimately resolved - but then, who is to say that life should wrap up with happy endings like a fairy tale? In reality, there is usually a lot of unfinished business, unresolved issues, regrets and so forth that bleed over from one generation into the next. After his father's death Cooper describes the process whereby his father's voice that played in his head became more real instead of fading away thus forming an unbreakable bond between father and son - stronger perhaps than the bond that joined them together in life.
I want to begin by first mentioning Bernard’s use of language. I find his prose, his structural choices, and his story telling abilities to be very palatable. I ingest his writing easily – as if with a spoon. Unlike some other writers whose tough and over complex syntax requires the brawn of a fork, piercing and prodding their words, before attempting to stuff it into my brain. I admire those that write as smoothly as Bernard. He is painstaking in his writing – he once told me there are days he is happy he’s written a sentence. I can feel him choosing his words very carefully, weighing their effect and scrutinizing meanings – most readily apparent in his humor. His linear structure keeps the story moving. His use of flash back/memories fills in the gaps. His seams are flawless. Yet the beautiful writing and often hilarious story did not always keep my attention. I never felt pressed to finish. When I was tired, I never kept reading to see how the chapter ended – I just put the book down. After writing the above paragraph I wonder if it was all too palatable – to homogenized – Bernard’s ultra smooth prose rendering me comatose.
I picked up this book the week before David Sedaris announced it would be the recommended book he promoted during his tour. It made me feel quite proud of my literary taste. I ended up reading this is one day because it was beautifully written and compelling. You may not like the narrator or the father because they are realistic people: incredibly complicated and neither entirely good or entirely bad. I appreciated the narrator's honesty in his confusing feelings towards his father. Most of the time, we have so many feelings towards our parents but we don't acknowledge how truly the complicated the relationship between children and parents is, especially when children have to take on the parental role.
My father passed away two years ago after a decade long fight against dementia. This book brought up some of the memories I had of his death and his last days and I felt a connection to the author despite the differences in our relationships with our fathers. His descriptions of eyeing his father as vulnerable really hit home.
I definitely recommend this book to everyone, but especially men because it really does capture the complicated relationships between fathers and sons.
I’d previously read Cooper’s essays and was a little disappointed that the memoir didn’t stand to their very high standard. Those essays were so powerful, their every word was in place. The memoir, albeit shortish (240 pages), felt at times a little overwritten. And yet the father’s character was gripping. He overshadowed the somewhat-masochistic narrator by a lot and remained an exciting enigma till the very end. Cooper is mostly a very elegant writer, funny, and often delivers wisdom through quirks. Yet I wanted a touch of more introspection about his own responses to his father. Particularly stark is that the mystery of the bill the father sends Bernard is never resolved and neither the son seems keen for its resolution. Cooper’s, at least partial, acceptance of his father doesn’t feel genuine. While most of the book read as honestly written, the last section felt to me as a forced resolution.
Really brilliant/vivid writing, like comparing sleeping pills to being hit over the head with a velvet sledgehammer. It's this kind of writing that made me think I'm not quite ready to be a writer myself. He's just so detailed and original. Is this review boring? David Sedaris recommended this book on his recent book tour, and I don't trust anyone's recs like I do David Sedaris'. He has impeccable reading tastes. Weirdly, I didn't think this one was up to snuff, which surprised me enormously. Especially because Cooper's short story collection Maps to Anywhere was so, so good. While I liked a lot of this book and can't really give a concrete reason for not loving it, I just wasn't enthralled. It seemed a little slow. But it was still good. Cooper is a really good writer and I respect him.
Good read. not a great one. I liked it. Reminded me of a very watery version of something david Sedaris would write minus the drug and sex references. so it wasn't a funny read but definitely a good character study on the author's father. he can write for sure but some times you know, when you're reading about a situation and you can tell that the scene is about to end because the author or the editor has edited to where they take out the boring parts.. well this book had missed that tactic of editing and there were a few drawn out parts. but mostly good. the dad was a pain in the ass and I would read and will read the authors other works.
I couldn't quite get into this book the first time I picked it up, but the second time was a charm. Bernard Cooper's father was an interesting, but distant man, a lawyer who believed he was always right and who was not above filing lawsuits against family members. One day Bernard receives a bill from his father for his upbringing, but is never asked to pay it. Throughout his life Bernard tries to connect with his father, but never fully feels like he got to know him. I have a feeling that Bernard knew him (and loved him) as well as anyone could, and Cooper invites the reader into his life and his struggle to get to know his distant father,
In a sincere, humorous, yet deeply compassionate memoir, Cooper limns the complex relationship that all fathers and sons know too well. Without glossing over the inevitable conflicts, he offers a well-rounded portrait of his admittedly irascible and puzzling father, suggesting but never sentimentalizing the pain that lies at the core of their relationship. Cooper's eye for the telling detail has never been sharper, his courage as a memoirist never clearer. Essential reading for anyone who's ever been or had a parent.
This was recently reviewed on NPR--a memoir by a man whose father billed him for the cost of his upbringing (2 million dollars). Please be warned that the section of the book dealing with this incident is at most 2 pages. However, everything else is extremely interesting, funny without being cruel, emotional without revealing too much*. It's great. *With the exception of his relationship with his life partner. Please avoid this book if you're uncomfortable with men admiring and touching each other.