A month ago, I had no idea who Paul Auster was, but he quickly came to my attention when the New York Times ran an article about his successful effort to get Nathaniel Hawthorne's musing on fatherhood published. In what I feared was a bit of overstatement, Auster bragged that the book, Twenty Days with Julian and Little Bunny by Papa, "should be the bible of all the housefathers, the stay-at-home fathers today."

The bible for Rebel Dads? Written by the Scarlett Letter guy a century and a half ago?

But I'm a sucker for this stuff, so I ponied up and bought the book. Good move. The literature on fathers and children often seems a bit bare, though there are clearly some wonderful current examples (like Believing It All by Marc Parent and buddy Hogan Hilling's The Man Who Would Be Dad). But Hawthorne's 74-page account -- taken from his notebooks -- of the three weeks he spent caring for his five-year-old is a true gem. The not only can the guy write, he has a great eye for parenting, too.

There is no whitewashing in the account. The kid sometimes drives Hawthorne nuts, and he is confident enough to say so. But the book paints a picture a father who appears to love every minute of his time with his child. And it serves almost as a modern parenting guide: stimulate the imagination, endure the constant questioning, be a kid yourself. Apparently, Hawthorne doesn't have much of a rep as a softie in literary circles, but it sounds like he's one heck of a dad.

The book was written in 1851, showing that the idea of men as caring, capable providers stretches back well before Alan Alda ever hit the scene. One of the troubling elements of at-home fatherhood coverage is the perception that somehow men only recently figured out how to raise kids. Hawthorne shows that we've always had the tools, just not the opportunity. Hawthorne, as a novelist (and a slightly eccentric one at that), had the chance, and he made the most of it. I only hope I can do the same.