Look for me there Grieving my father, finding myself

Former NBC correspondent Russert shares stories from his peripatetic life after the death of his father, Meet the Press host Tim Russert. He primarily focuses on the highs and lows of a three-year trip around the world, with stops in 67 countries. Luke quit his NBC job to find himself during this voyage, but he loses his way. It's easy to groan over some of his choices even as one comes to understand his grief and the pressure he felt as the only child of two famous journalists. His mom, Maureen Orth, wrote acclaimed pieces for Newsweek, National Geographic, and Vanity Fair. His well-meaning parents named him after St. Luke, who said, "To whom much is given, much is expected." Heartbreakingly, Luke writes, "The inadequacy cuts deep." Just as his dad wrote a letter to his dad in Big Russ & Me (2004), Luke pens one to his father, pledging to keep believing in the American promise and trying to help others with his words. Readers will sympathize with Luke as he mourns, feeling both self-doubt and gratitude.

Former NBC News correspondent Russert recalls the life of his late father, "America's most beloved political TV journalist." This memoir is a sort of why-are-we-here meditation that sometimes strays into mawkish territory, though it's certainly well intended. After his father, Tim Russert (1950-2008), fell victim to a heart attack, the author was courted as a kind of dynastic heir. "You have a gift," said one executive. "You could be a very good presence on air. TV needs more young people." The author worked for a few years until being pushed to follow his bliss by several guiding voices, including, surprisingly, John Boehner, who, in a profanity-laced ("Shut up, asshole") bit of tough love, encouraged Russert to hit the road and see the world. The soul-searching that follows is the least interesting part of the book ("Am I trying to show Dad, beyond the grave, that his boy could be like him?"), but the next steps have their moments. The author visited places like Bangkok and Buenos Aires, where he connected with his mother, herself a former correspondent and bon vivant who has a gift for tucking away both her fame and her grief in individual compartments. Russert too easily falls into canned travelogue-speak: "It's hard to leave Japan. I've fallen in love with the country's decency, its honor, and its order. It's odd, I suppose, to travel the world, cutting ties with the demands of the past, seeking a free-spirited existence and yet craving the orderliness of Japan." At his best, the author is aware of his privileged position as a traveler with no apparent limits on time or budget. Thankfully, Russert doesn't spend too much time feeling sorry for himself, honoring his father's observation, "Nobody likes a martyr." A middling memoir, but those working through grief may find some solace in Russert's pages. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.