Exley by Brock Clarke

Author:Brock Clarke [Clarke, Brock]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Mothers and Sons, Iraq War; 2003, Psychological Fiction, Iraq War; 2003-, Iraq War (2003-), Psychotherapists, Humorous, Watertown (N.Y.), Mind and Reality, Fathers and Sons, General, Psychological, Boys, Therapist and Patient, Iraq War; 2003- - Veterans, Children of Disappeared Persons, Military, Fiction, Veterans, History
ISBN: 1565126084
Google: 18U1PeJ2jAMC
Amazon: B004BLIH18
Publisher: Algonquin Books
Published: 2010-09-21T07:00:00+00:00

Letter 1

Dear Miller,

I just have to say: Jesus H. Keeriiisst, it’s __________ here in __________. Yesterday got so __________ he took off his __________ and went __________ in the __________. He’s from __________. He’s like everyone else I’ve ever met from __________: too stupid to live. Or maybe he’s just stupid enough. The __________ started __________ at him, and like it was no big deal, he got out of the __________ and put back on his __________ and picked up his __________ and started __________ back. He’s fine, although still stupid. I’m fine, too, although I’m feeling old. I miss you and your mom. Everyone here misses someone. But missing someone seems to make them feel young. Missing you and your mom just makes me feel old.

But enough about me. Enough about __________ and the __________.

Thanks for your letter, bud. For Christ’s sake, I can’t believe you read so many books this summer! You should be the one teaching my Great American Writers class, since you’ve already read all of the Great American Writers, even the ones you’re not supposed to! Speaking of my class: thanks for offering to teach it while I’m away, but I don’t think that’s such a hot idea. I was thinking about quitting anyway. I don’t think I’m going to be an English teacher anymore. And don’t worry about K., either. You don’t have to worry about looking after K. Let’s not talk about K. Let’s not talk about JCCC, either. Let’s talk about something else. Like your school. I can’t believe you’re about to be in eighth grade! I know you’re nervous, Miller, being with all those big kids in advanced reading. But don’t be. You’re going to do great. Better than me, at any rate. I was never much of a student, not of anything, not even of literature. I’m more of a literary idolater; even though a certain writer we (!) love said that literary idolaters fall somewhere between blubbering ninnies and acutely frustrated maidens, that’s what I am. But you’re different, Miller. I don’t know how I got so lucky to have a kid like you. I know your mom feels the same way.

That’s it for now. I’m so proud of you, bud. I’m doing my best to make sure you’re proud of me, too.

Love, Your dad

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