‘Every boy becomes his father: ever repeating and reliving the same miserable fate. They know it and still they venture forth with hope in their hearts, believing each new horizon and its promises. No misstep, mistake or misdeed can steal them from their hope. Like lovers they marry; for better or for worse. ‘Every boy becomes his father,’ read their vows. ‘But not I.’”
These were the first lines I wrote for The Bone Tree, a beginning that remained iteration after iteration but was ultimately cut as the story underneath revealed itself to me.
The story was originally about a boy and his father, about a boy’s resentment of his old man and his struggle
