This Boy's Life

A Memoir

Tobias Wolff

In his affecting memoir, Tobias Wolff probes his memories and dreams of growing up in 1950s Washington to explore how we construct our sense of self.

There’s great poignancy in how the adult Wolff writes about his childhood. Dropping into episodes from his life between the ages of around 10 to 16, he deftly uses plain, understated language to convey deep and broad experiences.

From early in chapter one: ‘It was 1955, and we were driving from Florida to Utah, to get away from a man my mother was afraid of and to get rich on uranium. We were going to change our luck.’

Instantly, we know when and where we are. We know we’re coming from an emotionally abusive situation. It doesn’t feel like there’s a dad in the picture. We know Mom is probably sharing too much information with her young boy, or he’s emotionally sensitive to it, or both. We know this young boy is not old enough to be involved in whatever his mom is experiencing. We know they’re chasing a dream that they’re not likely to find. And we sense that their luck is probably not going to change, no matter how much they might want it to.

That density of language never fades. Throughout this book, it’s the simple text that throws a mean cross to the solar plexus.

Along with that, the characterization is so good. There are maybe a dozen key characters, all drawn well enough that if one of them walked into the room, you’d recognize them immediately.

Wolff has a powerful ability to elicit empathy for his former self. The young Jack is a total delinquent. Over and over. He lies, steals, uses people, hangs out with the wrong crowd, passes bad checks, and steals a car. But somehow, we’re with him the whole way. Part of that is the writing; the author’s emotions are so well conveyed it’s hard not to empathize.

Another part of that is the very existence of the book itself. We know Wolff goes on to become a successful author. There’s a redemptive arc that’s not written into the story, but it is in the existence of the work itself.

The loudest pluck of the empathy string comes from the many ways adults in this story betray the children in their care. From small injustices, like promising a hamburger but swapping in a cold bologna sandwich — to much more significant things, like Jack’s mother placing her emotional state on Jack when he’s far too young to handle it. It makes Jack’s desire to steal a car and go joy-riding relatable. It’s not right, but it’s understandable.

First published in 1989, this book has since become a classic autobiography. And Wolff himself has gone on to great praise, including winning the National Medal of the Arts in 2015.

This is a book to be read again and again, at different ages to glean new insights from its sentences.

And in my heart I despised the life I led in Seattle. I was sick of it and had no idea how to change it. I thought that in Chinook, away from Taylor and Silver, away from Marian, away from people who had already made up their minds about me, I could be different. I could introduce myself as a scholar-athlete, a boy of dignity and consequence, and without any reason to doubt me people would believe I was that boy, and thus allow me to be that boy. I recognized no obstacle to miraculous change but the incredulity of others. This was an idea that died hard, if it ever really died at all. — Tobias Wolffe

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