THE DOUBLE DUTCH FUSS

Affecting memoir of growing up an “inadequate son.”

Professional storyteller Branch puts his skills to good use in this thoughtful memoir, which takes its title from a climacteric childhood memory—namely, his father’s revulsion in the boy’s jumping rope with girls in the schoolyard. “Not being able to catch a football to his liking paled in comparison. I was indeed a fag.” Under threat of beating, Branch continued to jump in, protected by the girls surrounding him. Childhood verges into adolescence and adulthood, marked by self-discovery: of his fears, of his sexuality, of how to negotiate a household where silence reigned—“all silence unless it was shouting.” In a wonderful moment, when he decides to come out to friends, their responses range from “That’s it?” to “Congratulations!” to “I don’t give a fuck”—proof that the anticipation is all too often much worse than the reality. Branch goes off to Hollywood, seeking fame in the film business but finding work as a receptionist (“My title was front office manager, although I didn’t manage a damn thing”). Later, he works as a writer for a supermarket tabloid, then a factotum for an aging actor, stretching pennies, receiving the occasional word of encouragement (once from Stevie Wonder, no less), and doing grunt film work. In a moment of good fortune, he’s hired to teach screenwriting at an HBCU, where, unhappily, the provost calls him on the carpet for discussing his sexuality at a public forum: “As I continued to offer context about how hard it is to just exist as someone who is questioning and growing into themselves, she rolled her eyes.” Branch survives, going on both to reconcile with his father and to win an Emmy, with a word of encouragement of his own in closing: “Keep jumping.”

A well-crafted coming of age story marked by constant trials—but, happily, success as well.