Abstract
The meanings of fathers and fatherhood, of guns, of boyhood and manhood, have been contested and transformed at a rate far more rapid than many post-1960s father–son relationships have been able to endure. Michael A. Messner, a leading scholar on men and masculinities, turns his feminist lens inward in his first memoir, examining the life experiences, relationships, and connections among three generations of boys and men in his family, with an eye toward what lies ahead for his own boys.
Messner’s difficulties in trying to reconcile his father’s beliefs with his own reflect the struggles that so many young men of his generation faced as they transitioned from a childhood in 1950s suburbia to adulthood in the turbulent 1960s and 1970s. His father (“Dad”) and grandfather (“Gramps”) were the “best of pals.” Gramps admired Dad, the WWII Veteran, Navy officer, college athlete, coach, breadwinner, and father (who gave him a grandson by which to continue the Messner name). Although Gramps and Dad had quite different childhoods and oftentimes expressed dissimilar worldviews, aspiring and middle-class white fathers and sons of their generation led similar lives. They understood each other. Messner’s 1950s childhood in a California suburb promised a replay of Dad’s and Gramp’s lives, including a boyhood filled with adventure, guns and hunting trips, and dreams of heroism, presumably to be superseded by heroism in future military conflicts that would produce the next Greatest Generation.
King of the Wild Suburb vividly captures young men’s internal struggles and relationship conflicts brought about by the social and political movements of the 1960s. This era’s feminist movement (and other movements, in particular Civil Rights and opposition to the Vietnam War) led countless college-educated men to question and challenge what it means to be a man, which ultimately meant confronting their fathers—their haircuts, their clothes, their careers, their marriages, and most certainly their relationships with their children.
Messner teases out the complexities and contradictions among young men of this generation and their relationships with their fathers (and eventually, their sons). The memoir also paints a three-dimensional view of each man, preventing readers from viewing them through the lens of simple stereotypes. The memoir provides countless examples and interpretations of how men teach and create stoicism and emotional distance (such as being taught by Dad not to cry too much, especially in front of others). But it also reveals instances of Gramps’ heartfelt sobbing during times of sorrow, and perhaps more importantly Dad’s loving affection during Messner’s boyhood. Grappling with his new liberal ideology (and a distaste for killing based on earlier hunting experiences), Messner reluctantly accepts Dad’s invitation to drive down from college to join him on another father–son hunting trip, along with a group of other men. He does so, but only after promising himself he would walk the hunt unarmed. He expects this will produce shame in (if not confrontation with) Dad. Instead, his Dad hands him a beer and thanks him for making the trip.
It is Dad’s genuine love for his son, his work ethic, and his decent values (however quaint or wrong his son may think them when he discovers alternatives in his late teens) that provide a window into the reasons why Messner felt and feels dissonance and pain, never having fully reconciled his relationship with Dad before his premature death. How do people with competing and oftentimes contradictory views of life maintain a connection, and intimacy? Love, in a word. The same source of connection is now found between Messner and his sons, albeit expressed differently. Messner’s own brand of fatherhood seeks to redefine boyhood and manhood, guns, fathers, and fatherhood so as to replace the implied intimacy of past generations of men with a more explicit expression of love and connection, and one that does not rely upon guns and hunting (however safely and ethically they are used and practiced).
He writes of the profound influence that the girls and women in his personal and professional life have had on him. The women’s stories, unsurprisingly, follow some of the same broad patterns that reflect feminist and economic changes, even if they are not the focus of the memoir. Messner’s mom—the warm, loving, clever, and funny stay-at-home parent who raises the children and keeps the family and house running, often while Dad is away at work and on trips—resembles iconic images of 1950s motherhood. The women of the next generations, including Messner’s partner—the highly regarded scholar and fellow feminist sociologist—are more likely to maintain a career along with a family.
King is at times moving and sad, funny, and warm. It offers a peek into the version of American manhood that was held up as the standard for several generations, along with newer and competing versions that seek to replace those of generations past. Sons and fathers will find their own experiences peppered throughout the memoir, and mothers and daughters should find it equally illuminating, as all can benefit from this candid and critical reflection on masculinities and relationships.