Book 811: Yes, Daddy – Jonathan Parks-Ramage

This is a dark ass book and a perfect example of what happens when I read too many MM Romances. I’m guessing I read the first part of the synopsis and either didn’t finish or blocked out the last portion when/after I requested a review copy.*

Don’t get me wrong, the fact that it’s dark definitely doesn’t take away from it being a good book, I just had no idea that it got dark and then even darker before starting to get a little lighter at the end. I did not like the protagonist, Jonah, and I do not think he redeemed himself by the end (and that is in no way victim blaming), he just wasn’t likeable.

And that’s saying a lot because of what he went through. I’m not sure if it’s Parks-Ramage’s writing and the way Jonah came across as unwilling to accept responsibility or to even make decisions for himself. I may need to revisit this, however, because I’m now thinking about Fanny Price from Mansfield Park and how much I love her as a character because of the debates around nature/nurture and damnit I don’t want to like Jonah.

I think, by far the most frustrating thing to me was how clear all the signs were things were happening. I don’t know if it’s because of how the book started with a prologue at the trial to convict one of the abusers, but OMG I wanted to shake Jonah and yell at him WAKE THE F*CK UP and read the context clues. I don’t blame him for what happened, he was played masterfully though I don’t think he ever understood it (even at the end), but the trauma can’t be denied.

It was a cruel irony—the vulnerabilities that made these boys perfect targets for Richard and company were the same vulnerabilities that destroyed their credibility as witnesses in a court of law. (Chapter 20)

Like this line above, I mean it wasn’t irony. It was clear planning and strategy on behalf of Richard and company. They knew exactly who to target for their abuse and their kidnaping. They knew that those who were abandoned or estranged would have other issues and even taking a gamble on Jonah paid off. Jonah had so many delusions that what you read in that prologue was just the tip of the iceberg, his ability to bullshit himself was epic and I am surprised at how many people bought into it. But the #MeToo interaction at the end of the novel was a fascinating (and 100% apt) commentary on today’s state of journalism.

Trauma is like a gift. The shittiest fucking gift in the world. Coal in your motherfucking stocking. But the minute you receive it, it becomes yours. And it’s your responsibility, what you do with it. And you can use it as an excuse to destroy your life and destroy the lives around you, but you shouldn’t. (Chapter 27)

The only time I felt bad for Jonah was after he thought everything was put behind him and then he basically experienced the same thing AGAIN, but this time through religion. That was heartbreaking because at what point will he wake up and realize what’s happening. Is it an addiction? I mean it’s the same pattern just with a different abuser/perpetrator guised in religion this time instead of fortune and fame. The person who does it, follows the same M.O. and uses Jonah for what he needs to get ahead and then rapes him. Jonah seems to move on from this one, but we’re left wondering.

The other thing about this novel was how messed up the parental issues of ALL the characters. From Jonah’s issues with his evangelical family and false accusations of molestation (a result of conversion therapy pressure) to Richard’s hella messed up mommy issues that he forced Jonah and Mace to reenact while they were being raped (probably by far the most uncomfortable scene of the entire work).

‘Because if I were to say one honest thing to my mother, I would have to say them all.’ Richard sighed. ‘And even if I were brutally candid about the pain she’s caused me over the years, she wouldn’t hear it. Denial is my mother’s superpower.’ (Chapter 2)

That being said I couldn’t help but identify with this quote. I mean I had my own mom issues, but this one hit home and I think a lot of people who have moms of the same generation as mine would agree. And that’s based on conversations with a few friends. It’s perhaps more to do with time of life when you actually start interacting with your parents as adults, but I think it’s something more than that.

Other random things I found interesting:

• You are only allowed to refer to me like this from now on: “He wasn’t fat—he was substantial.” (Chapter 1)
• I think I need to read du Maurier’s Rebecca, aside from a lot of people loving it, it’s clearly part of the cultural zeitgeist because I understood a whole conversation about it without them mentioning the title until the end.
• I love it when books connect to each other and there’s been a weird connection trailing for months now with this one tying back to Wolf Hall with Richard receiving an ARC and saying: “‘If I have to read one more word about Thomas Cromwell, I will fucking kill someone.” (Chapter 12)

And to end on the trauma of the novel. There were some pretty harrowing scenes, none of which were gratuitous, and they definitely left my stomach churning, but even with those scenes the one that probably hit home the most was when Jonah cut himself and had an interaction with the one wife of the four abusers. The rawness of that scene and the ensuing scenes just left me hollow inside.

Recommendation: This was a harrowing dark read and felt like it was from a more seasoned author, not a debut. There are definitely scenes that turned my stomach and times I wanted to yell at the protagonists and I honestly don’t know how I feel about where things left off, but isn’t that the sign of a good book? It riled me up and gutted me. It made me want to cry at the helplessness of some of the characters and even made me hope at various times throughout the novel, to what end I’m still not sure. Overall, I think it’s worth the read and I’ll keep an eye out for Parks-Ramage’s second novel to see if his writing stands up.

*I received a copy of Yes, Daddy from the publisher via NetGalley in return for my honest opinion. No goods or money were exchanged.

Opening Line: “You asked me to be a witness in the trial.”

Closing Line: “‘Jonah,’ you sing. ‘I made breakfast.’ ‘Coming,’ I say.’ — Jonah” (Whited out to avoid spoilers, highlight to read.)

Additional Quotes from Yes, Daddy
“I had no real friends during those early days, and I possessed a fresh-off-the-bus desperation for any opportunities to ease the constant loneliness that plagued my new life in the city. My calendar became spotted with a pox of cultural happenings: free readings at the New York Public Library, free gallery openings in Chelsea, free concerts in McCarren Park—anything free, really. Free was all I could afford. Somewhere, maybe in the trampled grass as I suffered through a mediocre rock band’s pro bono performance, I hoped to discover my ‘tribe,’ that group of fantasy friends who’d been waiting in the wings, ready to rush toward me with open arms and giddy laughter. It never happened; these events always had the opposite of the intended effect. I would feel my isolation harden into bitterness as I watched groups of people from afar gawking as they clung to one another with baffling ease, jealous of the joy on their faces.” (Chapter 1)

“Gay and heaven were two words I’d never believed could exist in the same sentence, but anything felt possible in this magical setting. Healing felt possible. As I looked at Richard now, it seemed inconceivable that I’d been raped here, among the wildflowers, surrounded by people I trusted, my new family. I couldn’t say rape because naming it would make it real; Richard and I would never return from that word. I’d be banished forever from his compound, from the man I adored.” (Chapter 10)

“I chose theater as my minor, hoping (but failing) to find other secret ‘sexual deviants’ in our production of The Importance of Being Earnest. Oscar Wilde’s gayness was never mentioned during the course of our rehearsals, but that didn’t prevent me from doing my own research. What started with Wilde continued with my exploration of Williams, Albee, Baldwin, Kushner, Lorca. I stopped writing in my journal and began penning plays instead. My amateur dramas were awful—esoteric dialogues between a character named Jonah and long-dead queer artists. But they made me feel less lonely. I confessed my desires to James Baldwin, shared my shame with Tennessee Williams, and they became a part of my imaginary community, the source of what little strength I had.” (Chapter 11)

“She left me alone and went to confront my father. It all happened so quickly, too quickly. had my father really molested me? It suddenly seemed impossible, absurd, even. Alone in the hotel room, I began to doubt my own recollection, the memory I’d constructed under Doctor Jim, lead architect. No, my father never molested me. But Doctor Jim seemed so sure of his methods, so confident in his discovery. What choice did I have but to believe him? Yes, I would believe him. That felt much easier than believing myself. If Doctor Jim, an expert on this issue, said it was true, then it must be.” (Chapter 11)

“‘Jonah—I canceled a meeting with Justin Bieber for you.’ Pastor Dane shot me an irresistible smirk. In another life