DAD HAD A BAD DAY

A caustic and well-crafted addition to the canon of white men seeking self-actualization on the tennis court.

Ned—unemployed, disaffected, pushing 40—digs up his old racquet and registers for membership at the Wind & Sea Tennis Club, whereupon he notices the club “urinals were wall-mounted higher than usual,” making him “feel like a small man.” Go figure. Ned begrudgingly runs “daddy daycare” for his 6-year-old son, Frederick, as his wife, Loraine, is the sole earner and often traveling for work. Ned, fueled by insecurity and emasculation, starts secretly frequenting the courts, dragging Freddie along and either conscripting him as ball boy or depositing him at club child care. There, Ned runs into Roland, a childhood friend. “I’d rather watch Roland play than play myself,” Ned recalls with admiration. Ned volunteers to captain the men’s summer league, recruiting Roland and other members. Just as Ned ascends in club stature, Roland vanishes, reopening old wounds and sending Ned on a wayward journey for answers. “I’m close to reaching my full potential,” Ned desperately asserts. His monomaniacally detached perspective is nerve-wracking and occasionally heartbreaking. Some readers may resonate with his Fight Club–esque desire to upend his life; others will feel unsympathetic toward Ned’s familial negligence. (“You’re a great father,” Ned blithely reassures himself after leaving his son unattended for hours.) That the novel largely works is a testament to Politanoff’s highly readable prose—his economy of language, sharp details, acidic humor, and crackling short sections. However, as Ned loses his balance, the story does too. All absurdity dissipates, along with any hope for earnest bonding, and we are left keeling under the devastating cycle of men raised to be lonely and competitive. “My son, he didn’t like tennis,” Ned muses. “What a disappointment.”

A wicked backhand of a novel that leaves a sour sting.