Perhaps because of this, the book’s most wrenching scenes only come after 200 pages, while in the opening essays about his childhood, Fitzgerald skims over the surface of what he endured. The book - subtitled “A Confessional” - is a memoir composed of essays, some initially published (in somewhat different forms) almost 10 years ago. In the shower, his hands hammering down on my face and naked body along with the water, the shower curtain rod sometimes coming down on me too.” The writing is heartbreaking in its simple and straightforward description of the world in which he was trapped: “Later, my father hitting me, not in anger, but after the anger had dissipated and there was nothing left but coldness. He took solace in drugs, alcohol, reckless behavior, and even violence of his own. Young Isaac’s mother grew depressed and suicidal and he was all too often caught in the middle. Then his father finally joined the family, bringing his drinking, anger, and violence. It was there that his childhood fell apart - at first Fitzgerald and his mother, deeply unhappy and lacking in parent-child boundaries, were alone while his father stayed in Boston to work … and have a lengthy affair. Then he and his mother headed for the hills of North Central Massachusetts, next door to his disapproving grandparents. Fitzgerald spent his early years in the South End in housing provided by the Catholic Worker, bouncing from Dartmouth Street to Tremont Street to the John Leary House on Massachusetts Avenue.

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