At its heart, …And Then I Would Fly is a raw, emotional memoir that follows Damien Thompson’s journey through a turbulent childhood shaped by a complex, often painful relationship with his parents, especially his father. Written in vivid, almost cinematic scenes, the book recounts Damien’s early years of wonder, confusion, and heartbreak, all tied up in a quest for personal freedom and self-understanding. His story unfolds like a series of snapshots: joyful moments with his dad, brutal lessons about loyalty, the slow collapse of his family life, and his struggle to make peace with both love and betrayal.

Damien’s writing had a profound and lasting impact on me. He has a way of making even the smallest scenes, like playing with toys in his cluttered closet, feel heavy with meaning. His tone swings between childlike awe and the bruised wisdom of someone much older, and it works. I could practically smell the dusty record sleeves and hear the crackle of that old vinyl player. At times, the prose wandered through rich, detailed memories, but this only made the story feel more authentic, as if someone were sitting across from you, finally sharing everything they’ve carried inside.

One thing that hit me especially hard was the complicated love between Damien and his father. Their bond is so sweet at times, like the way his dad bench-presses him in bed, but it curdles into something darker as the book goes on. When Damien recounts being shoved into the pool during swim lessons or sneaking around reading his mom’s diary at his dad’s request, it’s heartbreaking. His father’s wounds bleed all over Damien’s childhood, and the writing never shies away from that. It made me angry at times, honestly, but it also made me ache for both of them.

What really stuck with me, though, was the way Damien shows how love and damage can come wrapped up in the same package. He doesn’t let anyone off the hook, not even himself. He describes stealing baby pictures from his mom’s house or helping his dad pull a small act of revenge with neon paint, and he does it without glamorizing or justifying it. That brutal honesty is rare. By the end, when he talks about losing his childhood alleyway kingdom and realizing his hero was just a very broken man, I felt like I had lost something too. It’s powerful, messy, and true in a way that polished memoirs often miss.

If you like memoirs that aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty, stories about broken families, complicated love, survival, and growth, …And Then I Would Fly is definitely worth your time. I’d especially recommend it for people who grew up with messy families, or anyone who loves a coming-of-age story that’s more bruised than beautiful. Just be ready: this book doesn’t hold your hand. It hands you the pieces and dares you to put them together.

Pages: 246 | ASIN: B0DRF3J18B