This Isn't Going to End Well: The True Story of a Man I Thought I Knew

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Thank you to @algonquinbooks for sending me an advanced reading copy of THIS ISN’T GOING TO END WELL: THE TRUE STORY OF A MAN I THOUGHT I KNEW by Daniel Wallace (on sale 4.11.23). This brilliantly layered book is about what calls us to write, create, dance and even destroy those we love. What began as Daniel Wallace’s story became my story, too – the writer who lives “in that place between experience and understanding” and is compelled to touch bone regardless of the pain. I love this book. This Isn’t Going to End Well ended too soon -- and like all great ghost stories I want to read it again.” What a talent, what a career, what a life, and what a treat to relive it all with this most down-to-earth of demigods.

He has written one book for children, Elynora, and in 2008 it was published in Italy, with illustrations by Daniela Tordi. O Great Rosenfeld!, the only book both written and illustrated by the author, has been released in France and Korea and is forthcoming in Italy, but there are not, at this writing, any plans for an American edition. The afterword indicates that Wallace did a huge number of interviews about William's life with all kinds of folks, but they mostly didn't get quoted. It's hard to say what contributions they made, except for in the one chapter where William is convinced that this one rando murdered his friend. Then you saw a bit more input from others.

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Lastly, I have to express some astonishment that a writer older than me is surprised that a man was not who he thought he was. If you dig deep enough, no one is. A memoir wrapped in an elegy… [that] maps a strangely stunning life… [Wallace] imbues this chronicle with tremendous compassion — for William, for everyone. This Isn’t Going to End Well gives off the particular radiance of a life lived hard, whatever as such, a brand of American bildungsroman. There’s deep satisfaction to its arc, despite its inherent sadness — a wondrous glimpse of the melding, in human doings, of fate, character and serendipity.”― Washington Post Even before Wallace wrote of taking possession of the journals and utilizing them, the book was not relatable to me. The entire concept that a writer can only be someone who has experienced taking the life of something or performing daring deeds seems to be a frail Hemingway concept, built on machismo. There’s a moment halfway through “This Isn’t Going to End Well: The True Story of a Man I Thought I Knew” when the author, Daniel Wallace, ponders how, a few centuries ago, society viewed suicide as a criminal act, a murder of the self. The dead person’s body might therefore be hanged, burned or dragged through the street as punishment. While "This Isn't Going to End Well" feels like a series of essays that are all supposed to be about Wallace's brother-in-law, William Nealy, they are as much about Wallace, his obsession with Nealy, and some seemingly un-self-aware observations. When an individual suggested early on that they would not participate in an interview to add to the author's advancement, I didn't see any flag but now wonder. How is it acceptable to take a deceased individual's journals and use them as a prop for the latter half of your book when you've already decided that he was unworthy because he committed suicide and left your sister in need? Perhaps there's a revelation near the end. Or perhaps not.

Lastly two. I am surprised by how annoyed I am that the writer did not follow through with his sister's wishes on her deathbed because he became angry at his brother-in-law. His actions felt like those of a scorned lover rather than a brother-in-law who should have, at the top of his mind, his sister's last directions. Join Book Club: Delivered to your inbox every Friday, a selection of publishing news, literary observations, poetry recommendations and more from Book World writer Ron Charles. Sign up for the newsletter. Novelist Wallace’s first work of nonfiction examines his deep connection to illustrator and outdoor adventurer William Nealy (1953-2001), who was also the author’s brother-in-law and an intimate friend and mentor. Wallace was a teenager when he first met Nealy, who had just recently begun dating his sister, Holly. They would eventually marry, and they remained mutually supportive through Holly’s struggles with debilitating arthritis and Nealy’s bouts with depression, until his death at age 48. Wallace traces their enduring friendship and the many escapades they shared together, from fishing expeditions to illicit drug runs across state lines, and he deftly reveals Nealy’s expansive range of interests and accomplishments. He was also a kind of MacGyver, continually building and fixing just about anything. More significantly, the author relates how Nealy’s gregarious and adventurous approach to living influenced his own life and eventual career as a writer. “He was the one who would give me the idea for the life I ended up living, even if what I ended up doing was nothing like him or what he did,” writes Wallace. “He showed me how it was done: experience, imagine, then create. Every book I’ve written is dedicated to him in invisible ink. I doubt I would have written a one of them without him, or that I ever would have considered being an artist at all.” Though there were signs of Nealy’s mental struggles in the final years leading up to his death, it wasn’t until several years later, as Wallace reluctantly read through Nealy’s private journals, that the long-standing severity of his condition became fully evident, bringing into question much of what he thought he knew about the man. “There were three or four copies of his suicide notes there as well,” writes Wallace. “His driving license, his passport. My heart felt as if it were floating in my chest.” I don't know, the whole book kind of felt like Wallace saying, "Man, William was sure a character. And he sure did die by suicide. Nuts, huh??" Any time Wallace tries to psychoanalyze the dead man, it falls flat for me.Daniel Wallace's first foray into nonfiction is a memoir dedicated to his brother-in-law, fellow author, and complete idol William Nealy. Wallace traces their intertwined lives from their first meeting in 1971 through William's suicide in 2001, and Wallace's own reconciliation with this fact in 2019. Wallace writes about the man he admired so much, the man he modeled his own life after, who influenced so many decisions Wallace himself made in his life, not least of which was to become a novelist. And then he writes about Nealy's death and the aftermath that rippled through he own life, and the twenty years it took for him to understand what happens when heroes die and become flawed humans all over again.