A Father Like Mine (Memoir)

With A Father Like Mine is really honest memoir.  Mark Chamberlain tells the story of life as the son of an alcoholic but not to bring the reader down. Excessive drinking is a serious issue and it is a sad story in some ways but he manages it so well and interspersed with stories of his amazing life you don’t feel down.  

It’s not until you finish the book that you actually realise to phenomenal effect that early childhood had on his life and his close childhood friend who had a similar life went completely the other way so you get that incredible contrast as well.  It’s an amazing read with some very confronting messages, very topical ones in our current climate. 

Mark was the son of an alcoholic. He had a great life, he’d broken away from the cycle, married, had a family, travelled, had an amazing wife, lovely children and grandchildren.

He was a high achiever. An award winning author, his writing presentations for teachers have featured all over the world. 

He thought he broke away, but all the while ‘that’ part of his life was just parked. In his 60's Mark finally realised that his father’s drinking had actually affected him all his life and he was still struggling to deal with it, so it was time to do just that. 

With a Father Like Mine is a book that will stir the soul and provide inspiration and a ray of hope to all those suffering from family addiction.  

Mark says, "Well, I’ve finally done it. Broken that silence and talked about being raised in an alcoholic home. It wasn’t easy. Right up to the moment the book went to press, I wanted to take my finger off the trigger, put the gun away and let someone else fire it when I was gone. But it’s out there now, and I’m feeling edgy, waiting. I feel it on so many different levels.

All of Dad’s immediate family have gone. Still not everyone who thought my father a wonderful man has gone. I can think of at least one, a formidable adversary, who might take offence.

And my siblings? Can they handle the truth, my version of the truth? That Irish pride keeping matters of shame secret may well be incited. I can only hope those annoyed react as Dad would have reacted. The silent treatment. I can handle that. But angry abusive phone calls. Nasty emails. Mmm. Con fortare esto vir.

In some odd way, their verbal abuse would carry the voice of my Dad. Even now, forty-five years since I left home, I feel a burden of fear talking about my father’s drinking. Is it that I’m afraid he will somehow find out and confront me? Afraid those aligned with him will take punitive measures on his behalf? Is the little boy inside, not yet completely assured?

As children we had a conspiracy of silence. We did not complain, and we certainly did not talk of my father’s drinking with others. Absolutely taboo. Because we didn’t want anyone to think something was wrong. Were we really protecting Dad?

But, “When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose” (Bob Dylan). And old age brings me closer to that moment when I ain’t got nothing in this world to worry about. Closer to not giving a hoot what others think because in the end being precious and private about a story that can benefit others is selfish. The ridiculousness of my ego is beyond measure sometimes. I see it in others too. Guarded and secretive about their lives lest others discover they and their family are not perfect. The scandal of it all! When in reality no one really cares and all I’m  doing is depriving someone of a good story they could have gained from."