Yet Dad Lit is a tricky business, fraught with traps: the putatively self-deprecating vignette that actually demonstrates how pleased the author is with himself; the inordinately delineated neuroses of the overexamined life; the T.M.I. disclosures of sexual proclivities and other familial weirdness; the tone-deaf presentation of some mundane, schleppy aspect of parenthood (e.g., the absence of “me” time, the utility of swim diapers) as some sort of epiphanic discovery.
Posted by: amygdala | October 17, 2009
on Dad Lit…
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