In this melancholy memoir O'Connor mingles his childhood experiences growing up in a small town in central Canada with the myths and legends of the far north. Both are suffused with a strange silence. The extreme solitude of his childhood is imposed upon the family by his stern father who spends his time as a traveling salesman and, in the winter, his evenings alone in the backyard flooding a skating rink. Watching his father from the window, O'Connor "was waiting for a wink, a sidelong glance, a doff of the fedora, anything. But it didn't happen. He didn't once look up from the ice." The silence masks an extraordinary family secret that serves as a suspenseful backdrop to the quiet life of this boy and extends well into adulthood when he finally uncovers the secret.
Larry O'Connor is a newspaperman who writes books. Larry grew up along the shores of Georgian Bay and Lake Huron and now lives a short bike ride away from the Brooklyn dockyards. He resides with his wife and daughter in Park Slope.
Tip of the Iceberg is a remarkable story of a boyhood lived at the gateway to Canada's far north. The narrator, raised by a stern, secretive father barely knowable to his son, is spellbound by the country that lies beyond his small town. He is fascinated by white expanses, the harsh lives of indigenous peoples and animals, and the exploits of the legendary explorers. A memoir of self-discovery, Tip of the Iceberg samples the history and lore of the frozen wastelands as it reveals a young man's journey across his family's past. O'Connor's spare and elegant prose conveys the heartbreaking weight of the unspoken and unseen: relatives who never call or visit, photographs locked in a cedar chest, forgotten obituaries in back issues of the local newspaper.