A multitalented actor and comedian digs deep to write a letter to his son about becoming a man. Black, who got his start with the cult classic The State, is a performer with many facets. Onstage, he displays a dryly sarcastic sense of humor, and at the same time, he has been able to fully engage his goofy side in projects like Wet Hot American Summer. In his latest work of autobiography, following You're Not Doing It Right, Black drops the act in order to deliver heartfelt lessons for his college-bound son. Opening with the Sandy Hook mass shooting, which occurred blocks from his son's school, the author addresses his fears, hopes, and missteps in raising his children. The shooting, he writes, "felt like a tornado touching down, mindless and cruel. But also predictable. Infuriatingly predictable….In America…mass shootings are as common as sunsets." Whether examining violence, sex, relationships, or compassion, Black lays out his thoughts and feelings with few defenses up and a comic lightness that doesn't belie the book's rather heavy truths. Though not as analytical as Peggy Ornstein's incisive analyses of the sex lives of young people (although she shows up here), the narrative offers thoughtful ruminations on masculinity in the modern age. It's also refreshing to read a memoir that doesn't preach its messages from an author who honestly admits his imperfections. "The ideas I'm giving to you now are the best I can do now," Black writes. "I hope you'll tell me where you think I've fallen short. I hope you'll remind me to stay open and available and receptive to new ideas. Maybe the last job of parenting is surrendering the lead and letting our kids guide us forward. We're going to need the help." Whether you're a parent or simply thinking about life choices, there's both melancholy and wisdom to be found here. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

In this thoughtful memoir and social commentary, comedian Black (You're Not Doing it Right) writes a loving letter to Elijah, his college-bound son on what it means to be a man today. Black deconstructs America's troubled relationship with toxic masculinity, which he believes fosters anger and withdrawal in American boys and men--including his younger self. "I cultivated an entire comedic persona based on withdrawal," Black writes. "Sarcasm is a form of withdrawal." He recalls the alienation of his suburban New Jersey upbringing and the "might always made right" mantras of the Ramboesque Reagan era. Today, he explains, American men--especially white men--are scared, since their macho behavior is becoming increasingly irrelevant. It's all made worse, he contends, by "the infinite axis of manliness," by which society rates a guy's masculinity based on such arbitrary factors as his choice of beverage or academic performance ("A C student is somehow more macho than an A student"). Black's advice and counsel ("Respectful pride can enhance your dignity and lift up the people around you"), based on his own desire to be "a better man," is never maudlin but worldly and self-effacing. He convincingly writes to Elijah, "your generation of men can become pioneers, reinventing masculinity." Parents will be moved and enlightened by Black's thoughtful advice. (May)

Black (Navel Gazing, 2016) has made a career of being a sarcastic comedian, but now his writing, at least, has taken a serious turn. In A Better Man, he delivers a series of essays that, while still featuring Black's signature wit, begin seriously with reflections on watching the Sandy Hook tragedy unfold live in Newtown, Connecticut, while his children attended the elementary school one town away. He continues on to such topics as toxic masculinity, consent, respect, pride, and how to walk the line between being the man you want to be and the man society might pressure you to be. It is obvious that this is a deeply personal book for Black, who discusses his own disappointing relationship with his father, who died young, as well as his childhood as the "sensitive" boy and the conflicted feelings he has for his mother. Black's essays are addressed directly to his college-bound son, but there's something for everyone in these pages. Hand this to anyone who loved David Sedaris' Calypso (2018).