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Being Honest and Authentic
…And Then I Would Fly is a memoir chronicling your journey through a childhood fractured by love, betrayal, and the search for self amid the emotional wreckage of a broken home. Why was this an important book for you to write?
It was more than important for me to write, it oozed like Play-Doh through the cracks in my being, needing to be expressed. It did not start as a book that I intended to publish. It started as journals trying to make sense of my life up to that point and offering insight and role-modeling to my little sister, who was getting very little of those things. Before I really started going deep into my own experience, I was trying to “fix” my sister’s experience. It was only through therapy and self-reflection that I realized it was me who needed to listen to my own advice for healing. After two decades of writing, I saw the story and that it should be published for others, as well.
What was the hardest scene to write emotionally, and did you ever consider leaving it out?
Some of the hardest scenes to write were remembering the times as a child where I was acting out the abusive or dysfunctional behavior that was modeled to me. I’ve carried a lot of shame and guilt for some of these things over the years. When I realized that I was going to publish my story, I was also worried that retelling these events might further traumatize or shame the other people involved. I made a lot of hard decisions when it came to what should be included. I also had some hard conversations with many of the people involved. In the end, I decided it was important to tell my story and to tell it honestly and authentically, which hopefully allowed everyone to keep their dignity, since we are all human beings doing the best we can with what we have at the moment.
What do you hope readers who come from similarly messy families take away from your story?
I love the connections that this book has brought from people with whom it resonates. As a therapist in training, I hope that the self-reflection and humility make people realize that they are not alone and can be optimistic about their continued growth and development. Even in the hardest times, we can emerge stronger and surprisingly more vulnerable, like a phoenix from the ash.
How did your perspective on your father shift while writing the memoir?
I feel like my entire life I’ve been trying to squeeze my father into an object that I could hold out in front of me with both hands and see all of his sides. I’m not sure this memoir achieved that, but it provided enough catharsis to begin growing beyond some of the pain and suffering, and help separate his destructive behavior from my identity. I could see him more as a flawed human being who played a role in my life, as opposed to an ocean that I was treading water in. The end of the book really captures this, as I wasn’t ready to see him this way, but it was being shown to me nonetheless.
When Damien’s mother asked for a divorce, his father initiated a long journey of vengeance with Damien at the center, weaponizing the boy against his own mother. Suddenly, nothing was sacred. As the structure of the family and his father’s mental health crumbled, Damien’s idyllic life became seedy and dangerous.
His father spiraled out of control and vandalized their house, made Damien steal all his baby pictures, and exposed him to violence, drugs, and dysfunction. Eventually, he brought a new eighteen-year-old girlfriend home, who gave birth to Damien’s little sister, Lily. Living in squalor, Damien struggled to emerge with Lily from their dysfunctional father’s grasp.
…And Then I Would Fly is a heartbreaking and lovable memoir masterfully told over several decades, from a chaotic childhood to becoming a father who is still trying to heal himself. Sometimes darkly funny and often gut-wrenching, it is a moving story of an optimistic spirit seeking to thrive against any odds, even when in danger from the people he loves the most.
…And Then I Would Fly
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
LITERARY TITAN 