IRMA: The Education of a Mother's Son

Terry McDonell's memoir is the story of his mother, Irma, a twenty-five-year-old widow who took control of her life she wanted and raised her son to be the kind of man and father he longed for but never knew.

What passes between a mother and a son is not defined by her love in that moment, but later by the echoes of her motherhood. What did she really do? Her touch. Her courage. No surprise, then, that the more I moved around, changed jobs or just an address, the more I realized how much Irma was still with me. That is what my book is about.

— TM

An Excerpt from IRMA

When I think of Irma now, I think of her blondeness, and her quick blue eyes, and her white skin, translucent not pale. She had what was called a good figure. She was not vain about it, but she did not hide it either. She was slender with surprising breasts and beautiful legs like the movie stars of the 1940s she was compared to—Betty Grable and Lana Turner. She always felt soft when I was a little boy. Later, I saw the strength of an athlete.

—Shelby Coffey

“In a narrative brimming with vignettes ranging from humorously innocent to painfully melancholy, McDonell chronicles how he grew increasingly appreciative of Irma and her innate ability to overcome her own grief to focus on raising the kind, resilient, morally upright man Bob would’ve fostered himself. A rich and bittersweet portrait of a mother and son spanning miles, decades, and complex emotions.”

— Kirkus Review

“Reading one of McDonell’s sentences about work-life, even in a memoir about growing up, is like eating a blistered shishito pepper. In one sentence he is capable of eviscerating an entire profession: ‘He asked the Human Resources VP what she thought it was about the truth that prevented her from speaking it.’ Whoa.”