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In his introduction to The Book of Dads, editor Ben George recounts the difficulty he had in finding books on fatherhood that had anything interesting or substantial to say. His wife had been reading Annie Lamott's Operating Instructions over the course of their baby's first year and felt an epiphany in its humour and honesty. The search for a similar experience, but for dads, was not fruitful. George found most parenting magazines to be completely mother-centric, and when he typed in “fatherhood” on Amazon.com, it came back with “Did you mean 'motherhood'?” The selections that did come up were generally sophomoric and essentially worthless. As a result, George took it upon himself to compile a series of essays that would look at being a dad from a variety of perspectives and would hopefully allow some sort of useful identification for its readers.

I had similar problems finding books when we were expecting our son. My wife was spoiled for choice when it came to books and magazines, but I felt sorely unrepresented. Mothering Magazine is a fine publication and all, but it doesn't really speak to me. Likewise, the meager selection of fathering books in the Parenting and Childcare section seemed only to take the viewpoint of “Dude! Don't let a baby cramp your style!” I don't need to know how to successfully bring an infant to poker night or how to substitute Sports Illustrated for a storybook at bedtime.

George's collection, The Book of Dads, is a good step in the right direction. George is the editor of the literary journal Ecotone, and most of the contributors come from a similar egghead background, so be warned that there are more than a few eye-rollingly unnecessary high-brow exercises in justifying one's university degree. Being able to quote Yeats or make extensive references to Greek mythology is nice and all, but it's not much help when it comes to changing a poopy diaper. Also be weary of the fact that there are no less than three different essays that use the image of private sailboats off the coast of Cape Cod as a metaphor for childhood.

There are however a number of worthwhile essays. Steve Almond's “Everyone into the Bunker” is a funny look at obsessive parenting and the modern tendency to buy our children material goods  in order to convince ourselves that we're good parents, while Neal Pollack, parenting blogger and author of Alternadad, weighs in on the pros and cons of imparting nerdism and/or religion on our children in “What I Can Offer.” Personally, I feel that religion is a choice, but nerdism is hereditary.

Davy Rothbart, the editor of Found Magazine, contributes a touching piece called “Zeke,” which is not about becoming a father, but rather becoming a father figure, as he tries to help a flighty hippie friend deal with the trials of motherhood. The most unique and tender story comes from Jennifer Finney Boylan, a male-to-female transgender, who struggles not only with losing her father to dementia, but with her own identity as a parent while undergoing such a transformation. When she asks her tweenage children what name they would like to call her once she is no longer their father and not exactly their mother, they calmly decide on Maddy, a combination of Mommy and Daddy, narrowly edging out Dommy.

Some of the other essays, however, are not quite as successful. The title alone of Charles Baxter's essay,"The Chaos Machine, a postmodern essay on fatherhood," should raise a few flags right away. It's a well-meaning but fairly pretentious essay about moving his son out of college that includes copious footnotes from the son commenting on what Pops has said. Oh, how po-mo. Plus the son plays in an ironic metal band called Grätüïtöüs Ümläüt. Heavy metal umlaut jokes haven't been funny since 1987.

"A Tale of Two Fathers” by David Gessner, a fairly routine piece comparing his father's parenting style to that of his own, is unique only in that it's told in a comics format. Unfortunately, like far too many amateurish “graphic memoirs” in the post-Persepolis world, it is so poorly drawn that it's an insult not only the reader but to the comics medium itself.

In “Fault,” Richard Brausch, takes the annoying approach of breaking the fourth wall and stating “Now comes the part where I cleverly change names and disguise myself in fictional gestures. You will not recognize me, nor will you be able to identify any of the principal characters.” But -- and here's the clever part -- it really is about him and his family! See what he did there?! If he was so uncomfortable writing about his own family, or concerned with what they would think, perhaps instead of resorting to such a ridiculous and ultimately meaningless literary conceit, he should just not write about it in the first place.

Brandon R. Schrand, who contributes “Comparative History,” also should have probably thought twice about writing his piece, mainly due to the incredible embarrassment that his children will no doubt experience once they are old enough to read it. He starts off by revealing that his own father was a burglar and drug dealer and had abandoned him at a young age. He insists that the apple can fall far from the tree, but soon he's admitting his own brushes with the law, his affinity for blowing off work in order to binge drink and the time he mistook the bed for a toilet. In the end Schrand cleans up his act and accepts that he was responsible for his actions, not his father's felonious genes, but he's still not convinced that heredity doesn't play at least some small role in raising children.

The Book of Dads may not be a perfect collection, but there are enough worthwhile essays to recommend it. There are valuable lessons to be learned here, especially about the different shapes that fatherhood can take and that as fathers we all have our own unique way of approaching it. And perhaps most importantly, remember to make sure it's really a toilet before you take a leak.