My Losing Season: A Memoir - Review

My Losing Season   🌟🌟🌟🌟

by Pat Conroy  

Published January 1 2002 by Doubleday

Finished 1.9.17

When Pat Conroy made his escape from an abusive ass of a father  to play the game he loved, basketball, at The Citadel, he had no idea the abuse  would continue in the form of (a.) his fellow classmates during Hell Night and then his entire plebe year, and (b.) his coach, who thrived on shaming his players in one way or another until they either collapsed in on their emotions or put on an "I'll  show him" performance when next out on the court.   Torn between his two loves, for the game and for developing himself as a writer, Conroy recalls his sad childhood and his time spent on the bball  court up  to  his senior "losing season."  His aim was to see if more is gained from losing than from winning.  For us readers, I'm  so glad that the turning of a phrase finally beat out the spinning of the basketball as his ultimate destination.

Even so, the prologue reveals that the writing and rehashing of his past was not so easy on him either:

"I have a history of cracking up at least once during the writing of each of my last five books. It has not provided the greatest incentive to head for the writing table each morning, but it's the reality I live with."

What a shame.  Kind of makes you wonder what drove him to continue on doing something that might break him.  It seems that writing about all of the near breakdowns during his formative  years, which should have been cathartic, instead caused a gloom to spread over him.  His own words, according  to Wikipedia.org:

"Conroy lived in Beaufort with wife Cassandra until his death. In 2007, he commented that she was a much happier writer than he was: 'I'll hear her cackle with laughter at some funny line she's written. I've never cackled with laughter at a single line I've ever written. None of it has given me pleasure. She writes with pleasure and joy, and I sit there in gloom and darkness.'"

Wonderful writing with deep introspection and raw honesty.  Be warned, though, there is a lot of bball playing (the stories are wonderful, funny, sad and some long-winded) and a cast of characters to rival a phone book.  Interspersed is self-doubt at every turn, a man so humble he felt any awards or accolades he won were undeserved, and not a dishonest bone in his body.  A true Southern gentleman.  

RIP Pat Conroy.