THE SUMMER FRIEND

Nostalgic tales of summer vacations by rivers and sea.

In his debut memoir, McGrath, a former editor of the New York Times Book Review and former deputy editor of the New Yorker, wistfully reflects on New England vacations and a special adult friendship. He weaves together three separate strands of memories: youthful summers at his family’s retreat, “a place we called the Camp”; summers with his wife and children (“it’s possible to be bored half out of your mind and still have a pretty good time”); and summers with Chip and his family, whom they met on vacation. Memories abound, as one leads to another, then another, wafting back and forth in time. The author recalls the thrill of bridge-jumping into water 30 feet down; making fireworks runs and setting them off on the 4th of July; and “messing about in boats” of all kinds, especially his father’s beloved Chris-Craft runabout made of mahogany wood,” which “was so brightly varnished that, out of the water, it looked like a piece of furniture.” Chip, an excellent sailor, taught McGrath how to sail, and the author takes particular pleasure in describing those adventures. He also lovingly chronicles his various summer residences, including Snowdie and its 62 chairs; Chip’s family residence that the McGraths rented; and their own beloved 1930s Cape with its summer-house odds and ends. The narrative takes on a bittersweet character when the author finds out that his 57-year-old friend has prostate cancer. They tried spending more time together as the cancer spread. McGrath reminiscences about the “companionship of shared purpose” while lobstering, the two families swimming together, and when he and Chip played golf, laughing at each other’s bad shots. Sadly, Chip died in 2015. “I wish we had had the conversation” about his impending death, writes McGrath, “for my own sake, if not for his.” He wishes he had said more. “This book,” he notes, “is what I should have given him.”

A warmhearted memoir imbued with a comfortable, old-fashioned, sweet ambience.