Picking up someone’s memoir can be a chancy thing. To not put too fine a point on it, some people simply shouldn’t have written one (or at least ever taken it out of their closet and published it). So it was with a slight sense of trepidation that I picked up Jesus, My Father, the C.I.A., and Me by Ian Morgan Cron, the length of the title not the least cause of my wariness. I’d never read anything by Cron–or heard of him, for that matter–but now I’ll have to hunt up his other books: Jesus, My Father. . . was that good.
Cron takes us along on his journey from childhood, through to adulthood. Along the way, he discovers that his alcoholic, distant father works for the C.I.A, and eventually that his heavenly Father is not bound by his earthly father’s shortcomings.
Cron’s writing manages to be both comedic and serious. He lightly paints scenes of the most laugh-inducing chaos, then switches gear to reveal deep truths and confront the depths of the human soul without missing a step. His memoir makes the reader laugh, cry, and contemplate–perhaps the best combination of reactions.
In accordance with Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255, I am disclosing that I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher. My opinions are my own, and I am not required to write a positive review.