Paul Lamb. Parent Imperfect. Blue Cedar Press, 2024. Reviewed by Wesley Scott McMasters, June 1, 2024.
Parent Imperfect, the second novel from Paul Lamb, is a charming, engaging, and beautifully wrought story of fathers and sons across generations. It is a book of beginnings and endings, the very pattern that makes life – it is our series of lines that make meaning in our world. This moving story takes us to the woods to live deliberately along with the family at the center of it, exploring the ways in which a place can hold hope for the past, the present, and the future, pointing to the consistency and foundations of the ever-shifting components of our lives, urging us to return to what we know and those we love. Heart-wrenching and heart-warming, this is a novel about growing up and letting others see the parts of us we barely know ourselves, at whatever stage in life we need to. This book is a welcome reminder to seek solace and beauty in the quotidian and to pay attention to the small things.
Most compelling about this novel is the reality of the relationships displayed intimately across its pages. The complexities of loving someone are brought to the forefront of almost every interaction: not just romantic love, but the intricate dynamics of family and all of the forms it takes. Though every relationship feels almost unbearably real – as though you’ve felt it yourself, pain and joy both – to call this novel’s genre realism is doing it a disservice. Certainly grounded in reality, the wide narrative voice lends itself to an intimacy with the characters across the board. Each character, ready to walk off the pages, is surrounded by the reality of life in its simultaneous complexity and simplicity. Kelly is a sympathetic portrayal of the deepest struggles with depression – but the multi-faceted effect of this on a family is just as present and sympathetic.
Nearly every chapter brings a lesson in the power of language, naming, and shaping – what it means for a child to be named Clarkson and to be nicknamed Sprout. Lamb’s narrator is constantly probing us with questions at the same time the family is dealing with them: who am I? What defines who we are? What does family mean? The characters refuse to let us down despite their struggles: dealing with the past; the legacy of learning to be a parent; the fear of being known and vulnerable.
Lamb roots this novel not only in our reality, but the reality of the family: Davey’s father Joe down to Kelly and Curt’s son Clarkson all feel a deep and meaningful connection to a cabin on their hundred acres of woods outside the town of Osceola. One is never surprised to find that the family cabin always awaits these characters, offering a strong foundation for reinforcing relationships or building new ones. This is not to say that the novel doesn’t surprise the reader, since foxes and arrowheads come when we least expect to find them. This cabin offers reprieve and stability, no matter what storm needs to be weathered, but it also demonstrates the profound tie we have to the earth – the ways in which it speaks to even those who would be surprised to hear it. Swimming in the lake and starting one-match fires are ways of communing with nature as well as those around us.
The family and cabin in Parent Imperfect are the same as those in Lamb’s first novel, One-Match Fire, but you certainly don’t need to read that book before you pick up this one. Even so, finishing Parent Imperfect will lead you to want to read One-Match Fire, as well, since this family’s story continues to echo after you leave the characters in the closed book. Rich with metaphor, this novel may be, ultimately, about recognizing the “substance of life” as the small, important moments that happen every day. Yet, it balances this subtle beauty with the larger questions about identity and family: “You’re a nurturer. That’s your nature,” Curt’s father tells him, as Curt worries about his ability to be a good father himself. This is also a story about becoming, whether it is a fisherman, father, or son, and what it takes to do just that.
Parent Imperfect, the second novel from Paul Lamb, is a charming, engaging, and beautifully wrought story of fathers and sons across generations. It is a book of beginnings and endings, the very pattern that makes life – it is our series of lines that make meaning in our world. This moving story takes us to the woods to live deliberately along with the family at the center of it, exploring the ways in which a place can hold hope for the past, the present, and the future, pointing to the consistency and foundations of the ever-shifting components of our lives, urging us to return to what we know and those we love. Heart-wrenching and heart-warming, this is a novel about growing up and letting others see the parts of us we barely know ourselves, at whatever stage in life we need to. This book is a welcome reminder to seek solace and beauty in the quotidian and to pay attention to the small things.
Most compelling about this novel is the reality of the relationships displayed intimately across its pages. The complexities of loving someone are brought to the forefront of almost every interaction: not just romantic love, but the intricate dynamics of family and all of the forms it takes. Though every relationship feels almost unbearably real – as though you’ve felt it yourself, pain and joy both – to call this novel’s genre realism is doing it a disservice. Certainly grounded in reality, the wide narrative voice lends itself to an intimacy with the characters across the board. Each character, ready to walk off the pages, is surrounded by the reality of life in its simultaneous complexity and simplicity. Kelly is a sympathetic portrayal of the deepest struggles with depression – but the multi-faceted effect of this on a family is just as present and sympathetic.
Nearly every chapter brings a lesson in the power of language, naming, and shaping – what it means for a child to be named Clarkson and to be nicknamed Sprout. Lamb’s narrator is constantly probing us with questions at the same time the family is dealing with them: who am I? What defines who we are? What does family mean? The characters refuse to let us down despite their struggles: dealing with the past; the legacy of learning to be a parent; the fear of being known and vulnerable.
Lamb roots this novel not only in our reality, but the reality of the family: Davey’s father Joe down to Kelly and Curt’s son Clarkson all feel a deep and meaningful connection to a cabin on their hundred acres of woods outside the town of Osceola. One is never surprised to find that the family cabin always awaits these characters, offering a strong foundation for reinforcing relationships or building new ones. This is not to say that the novel doesn’t surprise the reader, since foxes and arrowheads come when we least expect to find them. This cabin offers reprieve and stability, no matter what storm needs to be weathered, but it also demonstrates the profound tie we have to the earth – the ways in which it speaks to even those who would be surprised to hear it. Swimming in the lake and starting one-match fires are ways of communing with nature as well as those around us.
The family and cabin in Parent Imperfect are the same as those in Lamb’s first novel, One-Match Fire, but you certainly don’t need to read that book before you pick up this one. Even so, finishing Parent Imperfect will lead you to want to read One-Match Fire, as well, since this family’s story continues to echo after you leave the characters in the closed book. Rich with metaphor, this novel may be, ultimately, about recognizing the “substance of life” as the small, important moments that happen every day. Yet, it balances this subtle beauty with the larger questions about identity and family: “You’re a nurturer. That’s your nature,” Curt’s father tells him, as Curt worries about his ability to be a good father himself. This is also a story about becoming, whether it is a fisherman, father, or son, and what it takes to do just that.