My Fathers' Houses: Memoir of a Family

Was great reading about the old neighborhood with many recognizable names. I grew up just a few blocks away on 33rd and Avenue A. It's hard to put into words why growing up in Bayonne, New Jersey was so special to us that did, but Steve did an excellant job of it.

I am not Jewish, I did not grow up in New Jersey, and I was born the year the author graduated from Harvard. How can I explain the reasons I loved this book? Perhaps the reviewer below summed it up best: it IS refreshing to read a memoir that is not fueled by anger, contempt, or confession. This is a very pleasant visit to a time and place that, while not my own, echo a love of family connections and triumphs. I hope there will be a sequel and I applaud Mr. Roberts for taking the time to reflect upon and share his childhood. We need more books that aren't someone else's therapy.

First: I'm a big fan of Team Roberts. But I was not expecting the depth of emotion and connection this book evoked in me. I'm a bit younger than Steve, grew up on the West Coast in a WonderBread world, but his descriptions of his background and growing up, full of all the anguish of the less-than-perfect teenager, were astonishingly affirming. I have passed the volume on to another, and expect it will continue to make the rounds. I'm hoping for volume two that picks up at the time they were married and carries on, since there are surely many more stories!

Steve Roberts has written a charming memoir that celebrates his family and an era gone by. Roberts grew up in Jersey City, an area usually reserved for punch-lines of stupid jokes, but Roberts captures all that is to be valued in his hometown. It is refreshing to read a memoir that is not so much motivated by anger and discontent. MY FATHER'S HOUSES is a memoir written to give credit where it is due.