Matthew Quick's latest book, SORTA LIKE A ROCK STAR, centers on an unforgettable main character who handles all of life's hard knocks with unfailing optimism. Today, Matthew joins us with a touching homage to a favorite relative, revealing how his grandfather inspired this novel in more ways than one.
My grandfather upstaged the band at my wedding with his own version of “Makin’ Whoopee” and he still --- at the age of 89 --- puts on shows at his retirement home to raise money for charity.
He fought in WWII and then rose as far as he could in the banking world without a college degree, mostly because of his larger-than-life personality.
He is known as “Big H,” wears huge crazy glasses, often breaks into song during conversations, and is fond of wearing the color red.
I idolized my grandfather when I was in high school. He was quick to slip money into my pocket, even though he didn’t have a lot to spare, and he filled my head with adages about hard work, loyalty, and many other important values. Also, at a time when many adults in my life didn’t seem happy, my grandfather always greeted me with enough cheer and enthusiasm to make a Frank Capra hero look like a misanthrope. To this day, when I call my pop pop --- even though it is hard for him to breathe --- he will answer with a boisterous singsong, “HELL-O!” We talk every Sunday night.
My grandfather grew up in Philadelphia during the Great Depression. When his family couldn’t pay rent, they moved in the middle of the night to avoid the shame of skipping out on the bill, and eventually split up, not because his parents fell out of love, but because they couldn’t afford to stay together. In high school, he played sandlot baseball as a way to make money. He recalls a kindly priest who organized the neighborhood boys and provided them with an opportunity to make enough cash for an end-of-the-season team beach vacation, an unthinkable luxury at the time. When my grandfather talks about this now, he still gets misty eyed. And in his wallet is an old faded black-and-white photo of his best friend who parachuted from a plane in WWII and was never seen again. To this day, if you ask my grandfather about the war, the only story he tells is about his being sent to Paris when he had a broken leg, his singing in bars, and how an artist allegedly painted his picture on a wall. He sang even through a horrific world war.
When I was a kid, I thought my grandfather was simply a happy-go-lucky guy, that he was born extroverted.
Over the years, as I learned about the unfortunate periods of my grandfather’s life, I began to realize that the way he presented himself to me was a choice, and that it took great effort for him to quiet his own demons so that he could make me feel hopeful when I was around him. He taught me the value of rising up to an occasion in order to buoy the spirits of others, a survival skill he no doubt learned during the Great Depression and WWII.
My new novel, SORTA LIKE A ROCK STAR, features a character named Old Man Linder who befriends my protagonist, Amber Appleton, when she does community service at the old folks home. When my grandfather read the book, he liked Old Man Linder best, and saw the character as a thinly veiled tribute to my favorite senior citizen.
What my grandfather didn’t realize is that Amber Appleton represents the best of what he has taught me. She’s a homeless teen who has been kicked in the teeth again and again by life, but instead of complaining or giving up, she tries to be “sorta like a rock star,” to buoy not only herself, but everyone around her as well. When she falters and falls into a deep depression, she learns the true value of what she has been doing for others, as her community comes together in a beautiful and surprising way.
I hope you will read SORTA LIKE A ROCK STAR and I hope Amber will put a smile on your face.
-- Matthew Quick
