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On Father
A son's homage to his father.
John Birmingham's father died. And his life fell apart. The next six months were spent grinding through the dark forests of depression until he finally emerged out of the darkness onto sunlit upland. A unique yet universal story, ‘On Father’ reaches out to everyone who has experienced and survived deep grief.
John Birmingham's father died. And his life fell apart. The next six months were spent grinding through the dark forests of depression until he finally emerged out of the darkness onto sunlit upland. A unique yet universal story, ‘On Father’ reaches out to everyone who has experienced and survived deep grief.
80 pages, Paperback
First published March 5, 2019
4 people are currently reading
91 people want to read
About the author
John Birmingham
82 books1,183 followersJohn Birmingham grew up in Ipswich, Queensland and was educated at St Edmunds Christian Brother's College in Ipswich and the University of Queensland in Brisbane. His only stint of full time employment was as a researcher at the Defence Department. After this he returned to Queensland to study law but he did not complete his legal studies, choosing instead to pursue a career as a writer. He currently lives in Brisbane.
While a law student he was one of the last people arrested under the state's Anti Street March legislation. Birmingham was convicted of displaying a sheet of paper with the words 'Free Speech' written on it in very small type. The local newspaper carried a photograph of him being frogmarched off to a waiting police paddy wagon.
Birmingham has a degree in international relations.
While a law student he was one of the last people arrested under the state's Anti Street March legislation. Birmingham was convicted of displaying a sheet of paper with the words 'Free Speech' written on it in very small type. The local newspaper carried a photograph of him being frogmarched off to a waiting police paddy wagon.
Birmingham has a degree in international relations.
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Displaying 1 - 21 of 21 reviews
March 12, 2019
John Birmingham is a seasoned veteran of Australian writing, and judging by On Father he's still as relevant and sharp as when he first published a certain cult novel concerning sharehouses and falafel.
In his early works he was an antipodean Hunter S. Thompson, telling memorably grimy tales of sharehouses and dopesmokers, and penning the best (and most justifiably vitriolic) obituary of a corrupt politician - J. Bjelke-Peterson - that I have ever read.
From gonzo he moved into novels, and while they are well regarded our ways parted at this juncture – I never got around to reading his SF flavored Axis of Time series or any of his Without Warning books.
After reading On Father I realized that my failure to keep tabs on his later work is something I’ll have to remedy. Birmingham clearly still has the chops to tell a story, and tell it well.
On Father is a tale of deep love and awful loss, and the personal collapse that can come when a foundational person in your life passes away.
John Birmingham’s dad was taken by cancer. John was grief stricken, as most would be, but his grief didn’t go away. It lengthened and deepened, forming a hard nugget of depression within him that he couldn’t shift.
In On Father he explores this grief, his relationship with his father, and through these lenses both the father-child relationship and the nature of bereavement itself.
This is among the best of his work, and he again shows his wide intellectual range, his eye for detail and, even while at the nadir of his own sadness, his skill at finding humor in the direst of circumstances.
My partner recently lost her father. This book, with its thoughtful, eloquent exploration of the loss and grief of losing a parent struck a nerve with both her and I, giving me an insight into her pain that I, as someone whose parents are both still living, just didn’t have.
Thank you, John, for showing me how to better relate to her hurt, and the long sadness that she has been through.
On Father is a touching, thoughtful read. We all have parents, and, should we live long enough, we all face losing them. This story, with its universal themes of parental love and mortality, is a book that everyone with a dad should read.
This is a bite-sized work at a mere eighty pages long and I spent an engrossed afternoon with it, getting straight on the phone to my own dad as soon as I finished the last page.
I urge you to do the same, and if the time when you were able to call your father has already passed then this book will show you that others know well the loss that you have suffered.
Four thoughtful and reflective stars out of five.
I received a copy of this book from MUP in exchange for an honest review.
In his early works he was an antipodean Hunter S. Thompson, telling memorably grimy tales of sharehouses and dopesmokers, and penning the best (and most justifiably vitriolic) obituary of a corrupt politician - J. Bjelke-Peterson - that I have ever read.
From gonzo he moved into novels, and while they are well regarded our ways parted at this juncture – I never got around to reading his SF flavored Axis of Time series or any of his Without Warning books.
After reading On Father I realized that my failure to keep tabs on his later work is something I’ll have to remedy. Birmingham clearly still has the chops to tell a story, and tell it well.
On Father is a tale of deep love and awful loss, and the personal collapse that can come when a foundational person in your life passes away.
John Birmingham’s dad was taken by cancer. John was grief stricken, as most would be, but his grief didn’t go away. It lengthened and deepened, forming a hard nugget of depression within him that he couldn’t shift.
In On Father he explores this grief, his relationship with his father, and through these lenses both the father-child relationship and the nature of bereavement itself.
This is among the best of his work, and he again shows his wide intellectual range, his eye for detail and, even while at the nadir of his own sadness, his skill at finding humor in the direst of circumstances.
My partner recently lost her father. This book, with its thoughtful, eloquent exploration of the loss and grief of losing a parent struck a nerve with both her and I, giving me an insight into her pain that I, as someone whose parents are both still living, just didn’t have.
Thank you, John, for showing me how to better relate to her hurt, and the long sadness that she has been through.
On Father is a touching, thoughtful read. We all have parents, and, should we live long enough, we all face losing them. This story, with its universal themes of parental love and mortality, is a book that everyone with a dad should read.
This is a bite-sized work at a mere eighty pages long and I spent an engrossed afternoon with it, getting straight on the phone to my own dad as soon as I finished the last page.
I urge you to do the same, and if the time when you were able to call your father has already passed then this book will show you that others know well the loss that you have suffered.
Four thoughtful and reflective stars out of five.
I received a copy of this book from MUP in exchange for an honest review.
March 6, 2019
The “On” series, published by Melbourne University Press, is marketed as “little books on big ideas”. Those I’ve read have always delivered on that promise. The latest, “John Birmingham on Father”, is no exception.
Birmingham, of course, is one of Australia’s pre-eminent writers. His output is as prolific as it is wide-ranging. It includes essays, short stories, novels, and works of non-fiction. I have always admired the fact that his writing speaks with a distinctive voice. His regular columns for the Fairfax press provide commentary on matters of the day. Underscored by a distaste for hypocrisy and hubris, they are delivered with a delicious mix of self-deprecation and arrogance common in all great essayists. I frequently find myself nodding in agreement with his rants.
Here, though, with impressive tenderness and honesty, Birmingham writes of his experiences during the prelude to and aftermath of his father, John’s, death. Somehow, he manages to be appropriately reverent of the subject matter, while allowing for moments of lovely humour at the same time (no doubt, a reflection of John Birmingham senior’s character).
The opening section is deeply moving. Birmingham pays tribute to his dad, clearly a hard-working and decent blue-collar man. He reminded me of so many dads I recognised in my own childhood, including my own, whose quaint and old-fashioned values are what the world needs now, more than ever.
The balance of the essay sees Birmingham reflect upon his own grief and on the writing (both literary and academic) of others who have experienced or studied that condition.
Like all others in this series that I have read, this essay leaves the reader thinking deeply about what it is to be a human being, vulnerable as we are, in an ever-complicated world.
You could read this on a commute, and you should.
By way of disclosure, I record two matters.
First, Birmingham and I grew up in the same town, attended the same high school and were taught by many of the same teachers (some of whom, I know, significantly and positively shaped both our lives).
Second, Melbourne University Press gave me an advance copy of this book and invited me to read and review it.
Neither matter has (consciously at least) influenced my review.
Birmingham, of course, is one of Australia’s pre-eminent writers. His output is as prolific as it is wide-ranging. It includes essays, short stories, novels, and works of non-fiction. I have always admired the fact that his writing speaks with a distinctive voice. His regular columns for the Fairfax press provide commentary on matters of the day. Underscored by a distaste for hypocrisy and hubris, they are delivered with a delicious mix of self-deprecation and arrogance common in all great essayists. I frequently find myself nodding in agreement with his rants.
Here, though, with impressive tenderness and honesty, Birmingham writes of his experiences during the prelude to and aftermath of his father, John’s, death. Somehow, he manages to be appropriately reverent of the subject matter, while allowing for moments of lovely humour at the same time (no doubt, a reflection of John Birmingham senior’s character).
The opening section is deeply moving. Birmingham pays tribute to his dad, clearly a hard-working and decent blue-collar man. He reminded me of so many dads I recognised in my own childhood, including my own, whose quaint and old-fashioned values are what the world needs now, more than ever.
The balance of the essay sees Birmingham reflect upon his own grief and on the writing (both literary and academic) of others who have experienced or studied that condition.
Like all others in this series that I have read, this essay leaves the reader thinking deeply about what it is to be a human being, vulnerable as we are, in an ever-complicated world.
You could read this on a commute, and you should.
By way of disclosure, I record two matters.
First, Birmingham and I grew up in the same town, attended the same high school and were taught by many of the same teachers (some of whom, I know, significantly and positively shaped both our lives).
Second, Melbourne University Press gave me an advance copy of this book and invited me to read and review it.
Neither matter has (consciously at least) influenced my review.
March 11, 2019
disclosure: I was sent a copy by MUP in return for an honest review
[review to follow shortly]
[review to follow shortly]
March 2, 2019
This is a insightful and sneakily impacting read. Birmingham flits between an almost scholarly take on grief through literature, and his own experience of grieving his father. As a result his raw and revealing insights seemed to come from nowhere, punching me in the guts and making it very tough not to draw parallels with my own experience of grief.
An essay that begs to be a longer form work, but a worthwhile read.
An essay that begs to be a longer form work, but a worthwhile read.
March 21, 2019
This is the most extraordinarily moving book about grief and the final goodbyes we sometimes get to say to our fathers (if we're lucky). On Father cements John Birmingham's reputation as a master essayist. His range is extraordinary - from He Died With a Falafel in His Hand, to Leviathan - via lots of 'splodey mayhem in his alt history scifi books, John Birmingham is a writer's writer. Highly recommended.
July 5, 2019
Loved this little book. Heartfelt and thoughtful.
April 4, 2020
More of a personal essay than a book, this little gem was a gift from my mum. My dad died of cancer in 2016, so I had that in common with the author who was writing about the death of his father and his own battle to deal with the loss. Birmingham is a writer, like me. And a cricket fan, like me. And he also quoted my favourite author, CS Lewis, extensively, so On Father (not a particularly good title), ticked a lot of boxes for me in terms of personal connection.
Very good writing. Birmingham rubs the edges of hyperbole with an excellent deployment of carefully chosen words. This a great little book: honest, amusing and inspiring.
Very good writing. Birmingham rubs the edges of hyperbole with an excellent deployment of carefully chosen words. This a great little book: honest, amusing and inspiring.
March 4, 2020
'But all was hushed and measured. Nobody raged against the dying of the light.'
John Birmingham uses the essay form to explore his experience of grief after the death of his beloved father from cancer, juxtaposed against the limited scientific theories surrounding grief and poignant memoirs such as Didion and C.S. Lewis. In some way he was trying to find a shared human experience to why he fell into depression after his father's passing and the science behind it.
He discovered that the amount of studies done on grief was limited, and mostly unhelpful.
'The Kugler-Ross stages of grief are actually five unfolding reactions to approaching death and, it turns out, tell us very little about the inner lives of those who are left to grieve once the departed have taken their leave of the world.'
Phew! That's a relief. I remember after a significant and traumatic death in my family a well intentioned friend told me that I would soon be going through the 5 stages of grief. I did not respond but visually imagined them flying through my window and presenting themselves in a Dickens, ghost of Xmas past kind of way. What I could not verbalise to my friend was that inwardly a cyclone was swirling of numbness, anger, blame, shame, regret and the most pure heartbreak. The calm expression on my face, was simply the eye of the cyclone.
People are terrified of grief. But the secret is where there is great grief there was first great love. As John recollects the gentle and pertinent presence of his father in childhood:
'The day is no different, until it is; for when my tormentor suddenly appears, so does Dad, unbidden, unexpected and unhoped for in my abject plight. Where before I had slunk along beneath lowering clouds, I could now unfold myself, stand up and fear no more. For there was my father, the very sky itself, blue and mild and infinite, forever watching over me.'
I enjoyed John's description of the hospital, he and his family spent countless hours at:
'The metre of life and death in the hospital went on around us, the breathing and heartbeat of the greater organism that continues even as individual cells fail and die and are ultimately expelled. Nurses and doctors performed their rounds. Cleaners mopped. Other watchers shuffled through the night and, outside, the city where he had lived, lived on, heedless of his passing.'
This essay is a beautiful yet objective exploration of grief, that both maps and brings hope to this place that we all as humans must enter.
'Grief remakes us. The maelstrom of suffering teaches us not just what we fear, but also how we can endure and one day prevail.
My father taught me all these things. He wrote them in the sky, because the sky is always there. It cannot really fall. It might cloud over. It will turn dark. But from him I learned that all I need do is turn my gaze upward and breathe, and eventually even the greatest storms and darkest nights will pass.'
John Birmingham uses the essay form to explore his experience of grief after the death of his beloved father from cancer, juxtaposed against the limited scientific theories surrounding grief and poignant memoirs such as Didion and C.S. Lewis. In some way he was trying to find a shared human experience to why he fell into depression after his father's passing and the science behind it.
He discovered that the amount of studies done on grief was limited, and mostly unhelpful.
'The Kugler-Ross stages of grief are actually five unfolding reactions to approaching death and, it turns out, tell us very little about the inner lives of those who are left to grieve once the departed have taken their leave of the world.'
Phew! That's a relief. I remember after a significant and traumatic death in my family a well intentioned friend told me that I would soon be going through the 5 stages of grief. I did not respond but visually imagined them flying through my window and presenting themselves in a Dickens, ghost of Xmas past kind of way. What I could not verbalise to my friend was that inwardly a cyclone was swirling of numbness, anger, blame, shame, regret and the most pure heartbreak. The calm expression on my face, was simply the eye of the cyclone.
People are terrified of grief. But the secret is where there is great grief there was first great love. As John recollects the gentle and pertinent presence of his father in childhood:
'The day is no different, until it is; for when my tormentor suddenly appears, so does Dad, unbidden, unexpected and unhoped for in my abject plight. Where before I had slunk along beneath lowering clouds, I could now unfold myself, stand up and fear no more. For there was my father, the very sky itself, blue and mild and infinite, forever watching over me.'
I enjoyed John's description of the hospital, he and his family spent countless hours at:
'The metre of life and death in the hospital went on around us, the breathing and heartbeat of the greater organism that continues even as individual cells fail and die and are ultimately expelled. Nurses and doctors performed their rounds. Cleaners mopped. Other watchers shuffled through the night and, outside, the city where he had lived, lived on, heedless of his passing.'
This essay is a beautiful yet objective exploration of grief, that both maps and brings hope to this place that we all as humans must enter.
'Grief remakes us. The maelstrom of suffering teaches us not just what we fear, but also how we can endure and one day prevail.
My father taught me all these things. He wrote them in the sky, because the sky is always there. It cannot really fall. It might cloud over. It will turn dark. But from him I learned that all I need do is turn my gaze upward and breathe, and eventually even the greatest storms and darkest nights will pass.'
August 17, 2019
I wasn't sure that I was ready to read On Father by John Birmingham. I saw it at the library and took it home, thinking that it might make an appropriate post for Father's Day, upcoming in September. I hadn't looked at the blurb; I had assumed the book would be some kind of homage to modern fatherhood, and I wondered whether it would 'unman' me to read it because I am still fragile about the loss of my father. Yes, I know, a strange verb to use, that one, 'to unman'. All it means is for some circumstance to deprive a person of qualities traditionally associated with men, such as self-control or courage. But self-control and courage is hardly the sole prerogative of men, and there is no comparable word for women to use. 'Unman' is the one I need to convey the trepidation with which I opened this small book. I thought it might make me cry.
It turned out to be harder to read than I'd expected.
This is the blurb for On Father:
John Birmingham's father died. And his life fell apart. The next six months were spent grinding through the dark forests of depression until he finally emerged out of the darkness onto sunlit upland. A unique yet universal story, ‘On Father’ reaches out to everyone who has experienced and survived deep grief.
I avoid books about grief. Some well-meaning person lent me a copy of C S Lewis's A Grief Observed after the death of the only school friend I'd ever kept up with. It's a bit of shock when someone of your own age dies, and Sue was only in her forties. I was very fond of her, and still cherish her memory, drinking my coffee out of her beautiful bone china mug and resisting all suggestions to reset the time on her small Seiko clock that graces my mantelpiece. But the book was useless, and I only read it to be polite.
So if Birmingham's book had been titled On Grief as IMO it should have been, I would have left it where it was. But having brought it home, I tackled it, learning that Birmingham felt about his father, the way I felt about mine:
Idealised, of course. But if you can't idealise your father, you are indeed bereft. And I write that fully aware that not everyone has a father they can love and admire and grieve for despite some human flaws, and I feel deeply for anyone who has not had that privilege.
To read the rest of my review please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2019/08/17/o...
It turned out to be harder to read than I'd expected.
This is the blurb for On Father:
John Birmingham's father died. And his life fell apart. The next six months were spent grinding through the dark forests of depression until he finally emerged out of the darkness onto sunlit upland. A unique yet universal story, ‘On Father’ reaches out to everyone who has experienced and survived deep grief.
I avoid books about grief. Some well-meaning person lent me a copy of C S Lewis's A Grief Observed after the death of the only school friend I'd ever kept up with. It's a bit of shock when someone of your own age dies, and Sue was only in her forties. I was very fond of her, and still cherish her memory, drinking my coffee out of her beautiful bone china mug and resisting all suggestions to reset the time on her small Seiko clock that graces my mantelpiece. But the book was useless, and I only read it to be polite.
So if Birmingham's book had been titled On Grief as IMO it should have been, I would have left it where it was. But having brought it home, I tackled it, learning that Birmingham felt about his father, the way I felt about mine:
When a parent dies, for those left behind it can feel as though half of the sky has fallen. My father was the sheltering sky, and beneath his mild firmament no storm ever raged, no hard rain fell. His nature was as gentle as the fallen world is brutish. All of our lives, he was both a bastion against the trespasses of ill fate and the predations of the inimical. (p.1)
Idealised, of course. But if you can't idealise your father, you are indeed bereft. And I write that fully aware that not everyone has a father they can love and admire and grieve for despite some human flaws, and I feel deeply for anyone who has not had that privilege.
To read the rest of my review please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2019/08/17/o...
October 25, 2019
Well known Australian author, John Birmingham, has his world shattered by the lengthy illness, and subsequent death, of his father. In this short book of only 80 small pages, he chronicles his loving relationship with his father, his struggle with his father's prolonged sickness and the fall out from his death. Birmingham grapples with his attempt to accept his father's passing, quoting from a range of writers and philosophers down through the ages as a means of understanding his grief. He also outlines how his period of bereavement negatively impacted his writing for many months.
I bought this little booklet for two reasons. Firstly, I have read and enjoyed a number of his books. Secondly, I have just lost my own wife after 47 years of marriage. I am really struggling to move forward with my writing as well. This book has helped me to move on with my own grief, rather than move on from my grief. As Birmingham found out, almost every pleasant memory is tainted with a touch of grief.
I bought this little booklet for two reasons. Firstly, I have read and enjoyed a number of his books. Secondly, I have just lost my own wife after 47 years of marriage. I am really struggling to move forward with my writing as well. This book has helped me to move on with my own grief, rather than move on from my grief. As Birmingham found out, almost every pleasant memory is tainted with a touch of grief.
December 10, 2020
In this Little Book On Big Ideas, John Birmingham dwells on the illness and loss of his father. John charts his subsequent journey into depression, accompanied by increased alcohol consumption, weight gain, and his inability to write, until he eventually emerged on the other side. It’s honest and moving as only the loss of a parent can be. 🎧 John narrates this essay himself and his deep, sobering voice gives the story an added poignancy, as well as a personalised, confessional tone.
September 10, 2019
A very brief insight into the author's life. His father died from cancer in 2017, which led him spiraling into depression. Not exhaustive, but enough to give hope to anyone suffering from depression and/or the loss of a loved one.
October 15, 2019
Short essay discussing the authors grief when losing their father. It mused a lot on the process of grief and how it is different for everyone. I was expecting something a little different, but definitely well written and emotional.
January 8, 2020
I love this book. It’s amazing. It touches my soul.
“All I need to do is turn my gaze upward and breathe, and eventually even the greatest storms and darkest nights will pass”
Some message: “Don’t let grieve become your habit”
“All I need to do is turn my gaze upward and breathe, and eventually even the greatest storms and darkest nights will pass”
Some message: “Don’t let grieve become your habit”
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
September 24, 2021
In this essay, John draws a worthy and insightful reflection on what grief is. His writing is raw, honest and definitely impactful. I couldn’t help but to draw parallels to my own grief. Read only if you feel ready for a teary meditation.
May 19, 2019
An honest description about the grief of losing a parent
December 28, 2019
A short but incredibly moving read in its honest and accurate articulation of the loss of a parent. It is heartfelt and poignant without loss of the author’s distinctive voice.
January 10, 2020
A very good book which I should not have read on my late father’s birthday
January 25, 2020
A very inspiring essay on raw grief. As a widow with adult stepchildren it is helping us get through. Excellent writing with references from other authors on grief, of which there are few of quality.
July 11, 2020
A short meditation on the terrible loss of a deep love, this short yet rich read is personal, tender, honest, and a worthy reflection.
October 29, 2023
Outstanding
Displaying 1 - 21 of 21 reviews