The cover of Kent Russell's new book is a full-length photo of the 29-year-old author. He's wearing a gray T-shirt, rumpled black jeans. He's looking sideways, with a hangdog look on his face.

And around his neck is a sandwich board that reads, "I am sorry to think I have raised a timid son."

That's the title of Russell's book — it's a collection of essays exploring the fringes of masculinity, as well as his own relationship with his father. Russell tells NPR's Melissa Block that the title comes from something Daniel Boone is said to have told his own son.

"I came across a story of Daniel Boone speaking to his one son, Israel, saying, 'I heard the military company beating up for volunteers, but I didn't hear your name called among them. I'm sorry to think that I have raised a timid son,' " Russell says. "And of course, Israel signs up to go fight in this battle and immediately dies. And Daniel Boone has to bury him in a mass grave. But, yeah, there's something about that kind of imploration that really, really resonated with me when I was piecing this collection together."


Interview Highlights

On whether he himself is a timid son

I think, well, just me personally I come from a long line of — the Russells are very much a military family. We like to say that, you know, we've had somebody in all major and most minor conflicts except for me, I kind of break that long tradition.

On his fascination with tough guys, and Tim Friede, who's trying to build up an immunity to snake venom by letting snakes bite him

That story kind of sprung out of the idea of why ... the aphorism "that which doesn't kill me only makes me stronger" — why is that so appealing to me? So I kind of wanted to see who takes living this aphorism to its most logical extreme. And I came across Tim, who worked in a factory, had been separated from his wife and his children because of his work, but just spent most of his time illegally keeping snakes in a disused crematorium on the crumbling industrial rind of Lake Winnebago. He let me watch as he endured the bites of rattlesnakes, mambas, cobras, you know, he was the real deal.

On the effects of a black mamba bite

What would normally happen to a person who gets bit by a snake like this is, their kind of neurological wiring would slowly be turned off little by little. It would be like someone going through a house and shutting the lights off one room after another until, finally, your respiratory system just stops working and you kind of suffocate. But Tim, he had the kind of immune system that suppressed this. But at the same time the nature of it was such that his body just swelled like the Michelin Man's. So he withstood the bites but he was there kind of trapped in his own expanding self.

On his volatile relationship with his father

Well, I know he's listening right now so, I apologize in advance, Dad. He is very thickly built, very rarely wears a shirt, and that comes from his days in the Navy. His skin is kind of cured poreless, it looks like overmilked coffee in a way. He was the captain of the ship of our family, basically, the Russell Ahab if you want to go in that direction.

And [there's] something both really inspiring and really tragic just about the way he commandeered our family, and he was basically there with us every day, so this was the voice I heard most, outside of the one inside my own head.

On his father's awareness of his writing

He's warned me in emails to not call him "perspicacious" ever again. ... But the dude is supremely perspicacious. But at the same time, I think the man is so dutiful and is such a, ultimately, a good father that I think he is both proud of the end product and I think he agrees that I captured something true here.

On whether he got a new understanding of himself through writing the book

Definitely. To actually sit down, put on the cave-diver helmet and go spelunking into my own psyche and these other kinds of masculine psyches ... there's like, some kind of original sin of white American dudes, where we just keep getting sucked back to these ideas and ideals and myths and stuff — despite how much I may want to blow them up, I still find myself being drawn back, so I don't think this is necessarily like, the memoir of how I learned to love, by Kent Russell. I like to think it's a little more than that.

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Transcript

MELISSA BLOCK, HOST:

The cover of Kent Russell's new book is a full-length photo of the 29-year-old author. He's wearing a gray T-shirt, rumpled black jeans. He's a glancing sideways through his black-rimmed glasses with a hangdog look on his face. And around his neck is a sandwich board that reads, "I am sorry to think I have raised a timid son." That's the title of Kent Russell's book. It's a collection of essays exploring the fringes of masculinity, as well as his own relationship with his father. His title comes from American pioneer Daniel Boone. It's something Boone supposedly said to his own son.

KENT RUSSELL: I came across a story of Daniel Boone speaking to his one son Israel saying, I heard the military company beating up for volunteers, but I didn't hear your name called among them. I'm sorry to think that I've raised a timid son. Of course, you know, Israel signs up to go fight in this battle and immediately dies. And, you know, Daniel Boone has to bury him in a mass grave. But, yeah, it's - there's something I think about that kind of imploration that really, really resonated with me when I was piecing this collection together.

BLOCK: Is that how you see yourself in some way - as a timid son of a bold and brave father?

RUSSELL: I think, well, just me personally, I come from a long line of - like, the Russells are very much a military family. We like to say that, you know, we've had somebody in all major and most minor conflicts; except for me, I kind of break that long tradition.

BLOCK: And you write at one point that you have found yourself fetishizing people you call opaque brutes, adventurers, gunfighters, dudes for whom torment and doubt are inconceivable.

RUSSELL: Right.

BLOCK: There is a former hockey fighter...

RUSSELL: Right.

BLOCK: ...And an enforcer on the ice. There's the godfather of gore in horror films.

RUSSELL: Yes.

BLOCK: And the one who really riveted me the most is a guy in Wisconsin who lets himself be bitten by the world's most venomous snakes.

RUSSELL: Yes.

BLOCK: He's building up his own immunity over time.

RUSSELL: Yeah, Tim Friede - that story kind of sprung out of the idea of why is the aphorism that which doesn't kill me only makes me stronger - why is that so appealing to me? So I kind of wanted to see who takes, you know, living this aphorism to its most logical extreme. And I came across Tim, who, you know, worked in a factory, had been separated from his wife and his children because of his work, but just spent most of his time illegally keeping snakes in a disused crematorium on the crumbling industrial rind of Lake Winnebago. He let me watch as he endured the bites of rattlesnakes, mambas, cobras; you know, he was the real deal.

BLOCK: You actually set a goal. You want to goad him into enduring five venomous snake bites in 48 hours.

RUSSELL: Yes.

BLOCK: And I want to have you read the description of what is his third bite. This is when he takes a black mamba...

RUSSELL: Sure thing.

BLOCK: ...Out of its tank. And why don't you read what happens.

RUSSELL: You got it. OK (Reading) Tim held his palm away from his hip as though reaching for another's hand. The mamba's eyes shine with an intense bigotry of purpose. Her exhalations seem to jelly the air. Tim pursed his lips, tensed and lowered the open mouth to his forearm. Then, the snake nipped him. She nipped him twice, actually, in quick succession, fangs through skin making the same small popping noises as air holes forked in TV dinners. Tim's arm immediately petrified. That might have been the worst one ever, he said, carefully unwinding the mamba and dropping her into her tank.

BLOCK: And what happened to Tim physically after this bite?

RUSSELL: What would normally happen to a person who gets bit by a snake like this is their kind of neurological wiring would slowly be turned off little by little. It would be like someone going through a house and shutting the lights off one room after another until, finally, your respiratory system just stops working and you kind of suffocate. But Tim, you know, he had the kind of immune system that suppressed this. But at the same time, the nature of it was such that his body would just swell like the Michelin Man's. So he withstood the bites, but he was there kind of trapped in his own expanding self.

BLOCK: Was it terrifying to watch?

RUSSELL: You know, it's amazing how, you know, that kind of phrase - fake it till you make it - where you just have total confidence in somebody when they themselves have confidence. Also, we were drinking 13,000 beers at the time, so...

BLOCK: Participatory journalism.

RUSSELL: Yeah, oh yeah. I mean, well, if you're going to sit in a closed room with somebody who is himself going to drink and hold a black mamba at the same time, you know, the only way to kind of allay your own fears is to then have 13,000 beers.

BLOCK: Well, snaking around all of these character studies - sorry, sorry for the metaphor.

RUSSELL: Yeah, no, it was fantastic.

BLOCK: Snaking around these character studies is your essays dealing with your relationship with your own father. And you describe him as a very short man, but somebody who is tough as nails.

RUSSELL: Right.

BLOCK: At one point, you call him a white-hot boiler with the relief valve broken off. Describe your dynamic with your father and what you were working through with these pieces?

RUSSELL: Well, I mean, I know he's listening right now, so I apologize in advance, Dad. He is, you know, very thickly built, very rarely wears a shirt, and that comes from, you know, his days in the Navy. His skin is kind of cured poreless. It looks like over-milked coffee, in a way. He was the captain of the ship of our family, basically - the Russell Ahab, if you want to, you know, go in that direction.

And it's something both really inspiring and really tragic just about the way he commandeered our family. And he was basically there with us every day, so this was the voice I heard most, you know, outside of the one inside my head, basically.

BLOCK: Your dad knew you were writing about him, right? How did he feel about that?

RUSSELL: Well, that's, you know - that's the thing. He's warned me in emails to not call him perspicacious ever again. But the dude...

BLOCK: (Laughter) He took that as an insult?

RUSSELL: Oh, yeah, yeah. Oh, yeah. But the dude is supremely perspicacious. But at the same time, I think, you know, the man is so dutiful and is, you know, such a, ultimately, a good father, that I think he's both proud of the end product, and, you know, I think he agrees that I captured something true here.

BLOCK: I don't want to tie - to tie to your bow on all of this, because it's not that kind of book. But did you come out at the end, after exploring these characters, these versions of masculinity and your own relationship with your father - did you come out with any new understanding of yourself?

RUSSELL: Definitely. To actually kind of sit down, put on the cave-diver helmet and go spelunking into my own psyche and, you know, these other kind of masculine psyches and things like that, you know, there's like some kind of original sin of like, you know, white American dudes, where we just keep getting sucked back to these kind of ideas and ideals and myths and stuff. Despite how much I may want to, you know, blow them up, I still - I still find myself kind of, you know, being drawn back. So I don't think that this is necessarily like the memoir of, you know, how I - how I learned to love, by Kent Russell.

BLOCK: (Laughter).

RUSSELL: You know, it's - I like to think it's a little more than that.

BLOCK: That's Kent Russell. His book is "I Am Sorry To Think I Have Raised A Timid Son." Kent, thanks so much.

RUSSELL: Thank you for having me. Transcript provided by NPR, Copyright NPR.

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