When Doc Bascom tries to show his grade school sons how to climb a huge sycamore, he ends up dropping 12 feet flat-out on his back. Stunned, he finally gasps, “So that’s how it’s done.” And in that moment, he becomes an emblem for all fathers—trying to lead the way, failing, then getting up and trying again.This “climbing lesson” is just one of 40 playful, sometimes poignant stories by award-winning author Tim Bascom, who illustrates the special bond between fathers and sons—and how that relationship must change with time. When Tim takes his own turn at fathering, he realizes that his devoted toddlers are turning into unimpressed teenagers. No longer the hero he had hoped to be, he must accept a new, flawed version of himself, not unlike his father before him.These brief inter-linked stories show that abiding affection can still prevail, bringing fathers and sons closer, even as they tackle the steepest parts of the climb.
This was my first book by Tim Bascom and I enjoyed it immensely. Through a sort-of snapshot memoir, Bascom shares intimate moments of his life as a son and father, with special dedication to moments when his father-son dual-identity comments to itself. There are also a few instances of husband-reflection.
Bascom employs beautiful prose. When combined with the short memories, the effect is a book that really moves along and keeps you interested. The chosen vignettes of Bascom’s life span the gamut of topic and tone, but keep cycling back to a memories of the eponymous “Climbing Lessons” given or received.
As both a father and a son, it was jarring to be so intimately aware of another’s choices and internal monologue. In several moments, I caught myself judging the author for language he uses or his priorities as a parent. But I easily freed myself from that destructive thinking and instead gave thanks for Bascom’s willingness to share himself and his family and to invite me to reflect on myself within the context of his life.
Bascom ends the book with a series of helpful reflection questions/thoughts to encourage readers into an introspective stance.
Climbing Lessons is a delightful look at several generations of father and son relationships told by a master storyteller. The book is a series of stories told on a timeline revealing many angles of author’s bonds to his loved ones. The stories are funny, sad, touching, joyful and memorable. Each is told with the spare, elegant prose that defines the author’s writing and makes this book a joy to read. It would make an ideal gift for any son or father.
I picked up Tim Bascom’s “Climbing Lessons” not so much because I thought I’d like it but that my father would. When I took a break halfway through, I was certain of my supposition. These were pleasant but lightweight tales that landed with all the emotional weight of a Leave it to Beaver episode. They felt cautious, tentative, muted. The tone too reverent, too deferential, too sanitized. Too nice. I soldiered on. When I got to the end, much of what I’d already concluded hadn’t changed, but a curious thing happened. The stories began to resonate, not deeply or profoundly, but subtly, thoughtfully.
This is a book where, crucially, if not by design, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. As I sit here and reflect a day later, I realize the parts and their “lessons” aren’t even the point. At least not for me. No, it’s the whole that matters, and the whole keeps getting heavier, pushing me into uncomfortable territory that falls well outside the scope of this review.
I’m glad I read “Climbing Lessons” even if it’s not really my bag. I think my father will enjoy it. Your mileage, no doubt, will vary, but it’s safe to say that if books like “Tuesdays with Morrie” are your jam, you’ll find that Tim Bascom’s “stories of fathers, sons, and the bond between” strikes all the right notes: touching and tender, with a whiff of nostalgia, and more than a dash of sentimentality.
Climbing Lessons by Tim Bascom snuck up on me in the best way. The opening story of Doc Bascom dropping flat on his back from a sycamore tree then gasping "So that's how it's done" perfectly captures what this whole collection is about. Fathers failing, getting up, and trying again. I laughed at the playful moments and felt my throat tighten during the poignant ones. The way Bascom traces this bond from grade school sons to unimpressed teenagers to his own turn at fathering is so honest. A beautiful gift for any father or son.
Honest, insightful, funny, and wise. I'm neither of father nor a son, but I related to Tim's stories through the men in my life. This is a delightful read, a nice break during a grim time.