midnight, call your sister/brother a jerk, or get a tattoo,neven if Jennifer-Jason-Amy-Josh has been granted suchnprivileges since birth, even if your teacher says it’s okay,neven if you want to trade me in for a better model—and bynthe way, I wouldn’t trade you for the world. It is thenwillingness to be, from time to time, very unpopular withnthose you love the most because you love them the most.nLater still, it’s trying to explain, at the same time, thenconnection between love and sex and the difference betweennlove and sex. It’s teaching that effort is sometimes itsnown reward (a tough one, but it connects up later withnduty-as-its-own reward). It is trying to encourage withoutnnagging, nag without bullying. It’s taking your opportunitiesnwhere you find them by listening when you feel likentalking and talking when you feel like going to bed. It isngetting Off and On—off yourself and on the job—time andnagain, so that somewhere down the line your children willnknow, among other things, who to be for their ownnchildren.nWe are not talking here about the popular concepts ofn”quality time” and “shared experiences” (although it isnBoy GeniusnWilliam James Sidis learned Latinnat age three. By the time he was six,nhe had written an extended study ofnanatomy and spoke seven languages.nEnrolled in Harvard inn1909 at the age of 11, and within anyear lecturing the senior mathematicsnfaculty on the subtleties ofnfourth-dimensional bodies, “Billy”nSidis seemed bound for greatnthings. But if Sidis had an appointmentnwith destiny, he missed it.nThe depressing record of his laternlife is one of a $20-a-week clerknoperating an adding machine, readingndetective novels, and carryingnon private studies in the lore ofnAmerican Indians.nAmy Wallace tells the strangenstory of this unfulfilled genius innThe Prodigy: A Biography of WilliamnJames Sidis, America’s GreatestnChild Prodigy (New York: E.P.nDutton; $18.95). It makes for fascinatingnreading, which is more thanncan be said for Intimate Sex Livesnof Famous People, which Amyncoauthored with her father, IrvingnWallace.nBesides providing an engagingnnarrative of her subject’s life, Wallacentries to explain why Sidis’ talentsnnever found fruitful expres-nREVISIONSnsion. As a teetotaler, he did notnhave the excuse of his friend NathannSharfman, who was acclaimednby Alfred North Whitehead as “thenhope of American philosophy,” beforenhe took to drink and became ancabdriver. Nor did Sidis ever “burnnout” or suffer a mental breakdown,nas James Thurber alleged in anshamelessly cruel depichon of Sidisnin 1938. To the end of his life, Sidisncould perform the most complexnmathematical derivations in hisnhead. The most reasonable motivenWallace can find for his spectacularnunder-achievement comes, instead,n’ out of the “painful emotional environment”ncreated by the degenerationnof his parents’ marriage, thenrelentless domination of his moth­nquality hme, and they are shared experiences). We’re notntalking about parenthood in the trenches. It is not, by anynmeans, where all of parenthood takes place; but it’s wherensome of it must take place.nNot for the Dad of the 80’s, however. His idea of trenchnwork is changing diapers, a job which, because his fathernrefused to do it, automatically qualifies him for the UnthreatenednMasculinity award. Yesterday’s relentless selfexplorersnbecame today’s enlightened fathers when andnbecause they realized that as enlightened fathers they couldnremain relentless self-explorers—and appear responsibleyet-sensitivenin the bargain. Jackpot. And where do theirnchildren fit in? Well, they get to be little sidekicks on dad’snwondrous journey of self-discovery. Look! Over here! I’mnfeeling good about myself!nPast the surface, it’s not at all funny, of course. Thennotion that children can be used to help their parents grownup is perverse and offensive and dangerous. But younwouldn’t know it by Today’s Dad. He’s found himself annImage; he’s found himself a Role. He’s proud as punch andnbursting to talk. Me, I’m damned if I’ll listen.nnner, and the failure of his parents tonshield him from the relentlessnmedia exposure and the mercilessnenvy of the public.nWallace produces a fair amountnof evidence to support her thesis,nbut in addition she unintentionallynsuggests another reason for Sidis’nfailure. Sidis’ parents, both brilliantnJewish emigres from Russia, sparednneither pain nor expense in introducingntheir son to philosophy, literature,nmathematics, and the arts,nbut they positively turned him awaynfrom religion: “By the age of six,nBilly was a confirmed atheist.” Thenfamily atheism was not so much anmetaphysical problem as an obstaclento a sense of community identity.nNeither Jew nor Gentile, Sidisnwas simply alone. It is possible tonsee an awkward groping towardnboth faith and community in thenUtopian movements he joined afternWorld War I and in his researchninto American tribal rituals later innlife.nAmbitious parents had betterntake a hard look at the case of BillynSidis. A four-year-old who learnsnhow to read and how to manipulate,na Mobius strip may end up in anseedy New York apartment collectingnbus transfers and studying thenwar chants of savages.nOCTOBER 1988/23n