="AG/DC"]In the vastly over-rated A Prayer for Owen Meany, the narrator's mother is killed as a passive spectator of a youth league baseball game. With two outs in the last inning and his team down by a large margin a player with the same last name as me works a walk. Owen, an undersized and overmatched athlete ,comes up to bat and breaks with precedent by hitting a hard foul ball, the ball that hits and kills the mother. The narrator, in a mystical way I'm supposed to understand but don't, maintains a lifelong animus for the character who "takes" the walk (seeing him as somehow unmanly), but retains his lifelong friendship with Owen, who --- while still innocent --- is at least the inadvertant agent of Mom's demise. The narrator's hostility to my namesake continues right up to him snarking about the guy who "takes" a walk dying in Vietnam. Haven't read John Irving since. I found large parts of that book to be trite. It's not his best work. I did enjoy, among other books of his, the more recent A Widow For One Year and Until I Find You.