These memoirs consist of two volumes and are presented in the order of the parts of Willeford's life they cover, not the order in which they were written. The shorter, first part, I Was Looking for a Street, is the best, earning five stars for its description of Willeford's early life, his school experiences, and relationship with his grandmother after his mother died when he was six. The best part of this book is when Willeford takes to the road (more often the rails) when he was thirteen, living in hobo jungles, standing in the Depression-era breadlines for handouts, or occasionally settling in for brief stays at camps set up by the US Government or a State for the many migrants. This is "Grapes of Wrath" territory here, but filtered through Willeford's unique perspective of what is important and what isn't. We learn, for instance, that El Paso is the worst place on earth. We also learn some things I don't really want to have to type out....

This part of the memoirs is fascinating, funny, and ultimately quite sad in its last part--Willeford's free verse analysis of his feelings about his father (who died when Willeford was two.)

It is easy to see how Willeford developed the attitude and style that flow through most of his writing when you read about his childhood and the people and places he encountered. After a while, he returned to Los Angeles and his grandmother, but jobs were not to be found, and he ended up joining the Army Air Corps, because that didn't require previous military experience. As a result, most of the second part of the memoirs, Something about a Soldier, takes place in the Philippine Islands from 1936 to 1938. This isn't as interesting as the first book of the memoirs, though it does again have that unmistakable Willeford tone, and parts of it read just like one of his perverse novels. There is the usual coming of age story in some detail, though Willeford treats everything so matter-of-factly that you just nod your head and go on reading. By the end of the book, his Air Corps enlistment over, Willeford has returned to Los Angeles briefly before enlisting again, in the regular Army. The cavalry! He actually gets sent to Monterrey to learn how to ride horses. By this time, it is 1939, and horses aren't going to be much use in the war that is coming, but neither Willeford or anyone else seems to have a clue about that. Between the description of his time in the Philippines and in the cavalry, is is a pretty damning picture of US military preparedness between the wars. Nobody seems to do much of anything.

What is missing from the story of Willeford's life is of course much greater than anything portrayed in the two parts of this memoir. His later service in World War II as a tank commander, for instance. I assume that had he lived longer (he died at 69 not long after finishing I Was Looking for a Street), he would have written more about the other parts of his life. As it is, we just have to settle for this, and if you are a fan of Willeford, by all means track down a copy of this book.

If you are not a fan of Willeford and have read this far, then you need to become one. Start with the books available for free at munseys.com (sorry - that site has been defunct for a while, but try manybooks.net). Check out my other reviews of his books here on LibraryThing to see what you've been missing. ( )