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Book Review: ‘Going Home,’ by Tom Lamont

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Book Review: ‘Going Home,’ by Tom Lamont

GOING HOME, by Tom Lamont


Tom Lamont’s “Going Home” is an exceptionally touching novel in multiple ways. It’s a story of fathers and sons. Male friendship and all its many — and not often discussed — complications. Jewish community, culture and faith. What goes into raising a young boy, and tending to loved ones who are at the end of their days. The cruel trick the universe plays that brings us from child to adult to child again over the course of our lives.

At the core of this novel is the question “What does it mean to care?,” and it considers both senses of the word: to care for, and to care about, someone.

Lamont’s literary debut is set in the London suburb of Enfield, and is told largely from the alternating perspectives of four impeccably drawn characters. Téo Erskine, 30, has left Enfield for life in the big city, but dutifully returns once a month to visit his elderly father. His close childhood friend is Ben Mossam, whose parents moved abroad when he finished school, leaving him with a house and money but not many reasons to grow up. Téo’s well-enough-meaning father, Vic, does his best to hide his ailing health and wonders why providing for his family — despite being distant at times — isn’t sufficient to rate him as a good father. And the new progressive rabbi in town, Sibyl, is doing her best to win over a board of more traditional congregants while grappling with her own growing questions around faith.

Tying these characters together is 2-year-old Joel, one of the most charming children put to the page in recent memory. The novel carefully shows the way the child’s very existence changes each of the other characters’ lives, all while perfectly encapsulating the frustration, boredom, anxiety and tremendous bursts of tenderness that come from raising a young one, even when that young one is not your own.

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After Joel’s mother, Lia — Téo’s unrequited love — dies by suicide, this all-ages group of lads, plus Sibyl the rabbi, earnestly try to watch over Joel in the wake of baffling tragedy. Can they make room in their lives for a toddler until social services can find Joel’s biological father or caring foster parents? Or will one of them end up caring for him permanently in Lia’s absence?

I’ll take a moment here to applaud Lamont’s human, heartfelt and nonjudgmental portrait of depression and suicide. Rabbi Sibyl doesn’t shy from addressing the manner of Lia’s death in her eulogy, saying that Lia had been failed in life by those who were slow to help. “She would be failed as much in death,” Sibyl adds, “were anybody to criticize her or blame her — ask, how could she? — without trying to understand that for Lia the question might have been, how could she not?”

With nights out, a football match, a trip to Scotland, poker games, pints and even a bit of pill-popping and subsequent street-puking, Lamont shows his talent for revealing the depth of the characters’ feelings through their small, quotidian joys and tragedies. It is here where Lamont’s years as a journalist (for The Guardian and GQ) clearly translate into a canny understanding of surface-level wants alongside deeper, subconscious motivations.

Though at times the plot can feel a tad tidy, the sight of a few seams doesn’t take away from this funny and poignant, bittersweet and moving — yet never maudlin — debut. “Going Home” made me cry on more than one occasion, and laugh out loud many more times. It’s a terrific reminder that what binds us to our loved ones isn’t blood but the care we take to keep them close, and our ability to show up for them when we screw it up on the first go-round.


GOING HOME | By Tom Lamont | Knopf | 287 pp. | $28

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Do You Recognize These Lines From Popular Science Fiction?

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Do You Recognize These Lines From Popular Science Fiction?

Welcome to Literary Quotable Quotes, a quiz that tests your recognition of classic lines. This week’s installment highlights observations from future or alternate worlds depicted in popular science fiction. In the five multiple-choice questions below, tap or click on the answer you think is correct. After the last question, you’ll find links to the books if you’re intrigued and inspired to read more.

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Test Your Memory of These Books That Changed the World

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Test Your Memory of These Books That Changed the World

Welcome to Lit Trivia, the Book Review’s regular quiz about books, authors and literary culture. This week’s challenge tests your memory of books that made huge impacts on society after they were published — some of them even spurring changes to American laws. In the five multiple-choice questions below, tap or click on the answer you think is correct. After the last question, you’ll find links to the books if you’d like to do further reading.

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Finding Wisdom in a Poem by Wendy Cope

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Finding Wisdom in a Poem by Wendy Cope

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Where do you turn when you need advice? A chatbot? A life coach? A wise and trusted friend?

How about a poet? Poets may not be famous for making the best life choices, but because they subject the mess of human existence to the discipline of language, they can be as helpful as any therapist or mentor.

Good poets know the rules and when to break them, which is something they can teach the rest of us.

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To wit:

Giving advice is a peculiar literary undertaking. It flourishes in certain popular genres — graduation speeches, newspaper columns, country and western songs and poems like this one — but what, in these contexts, is it really for?

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I’m thinking of situations when you don’t urgently need help but nonetheless enjoy reading answers to questions you may not have thought to ask. What interests you isn’t the content of the advice — you could get all the life hacks you want from A.I. — so much as the voice of the person dispensing it.

Wendy Cope is an English poet, born in 1945, who has been a fixture of her country’s literary scene since the 1980s. More recently, her short, buoyant poem “The Orange” has been widely memed online, bringing her to the attention of new readers beyond Britain.

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Cope favors rhyme, meter, brisk jokes and tart aperçus. She addresses romance, friendship and the petty absurdities of modern life with disarming good humor. The last line of “The Orange” is “I love you. I’m glad I exist.” Somehow she makes it the opposite of cringe.

This isn’t the kind of poetry you would describe as “confessional.” And yet …

Want to learn this poem by heart? We’ll help.

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Fill in the missing words below. You can always refer to the reading by A.O. Scott and full
text above.

Question 1/7

Let’s start with the first stanza.

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Stop, if the car is going clunk 

Or if the sun has made you blind. 

Dont answer emails when youre drunk. 

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Tap a word above to fill in the highlighted blank.

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