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April 1, 1999
By: David Conrads
I had not grown up until, at the age of thirty-nine, I adopted
a child." So begins Robert Klose's account of his experience
in the foreign-adoption process, a "subculture" that
doesn't quite know what to do with single men. While single women
have long been permitted to adopt children - and in the process
have established a lengthy and successful track record - adoption
by single men in the United States is a rarity.
Stories of the hazards encountered even by traditional, married
couples attempting foreign adoptions are legion - red tape, crooked
adoption agencies, impenetrable bureaucracies, last minute complications,
and staggering expenses. Klose encounters all of these and more,
as many countries and agencies simply won't work with a single
man.
The author's decision not to adopt an infant or toddler further
limits his prospects. For most parents pursuing an adoption,
the process takes about a year; for Klose, it is nearly 2-1/2
years from the time he attends his first informational meeting
in 1991 until he arrives home from Moscow with seven-year-old
Alyosha in tow.
Why would anyone submit to such an undertaking? "Although
the concept of what constitutes a family has changed greatly
in America in recent decades, our desire to constitute a family
at all costs swells great within us. I was gripped by this need
as well," explains the author, a biology professor at University
College of Bangor, Maine.
"Adoption was my opportunity to form a family of my own,"
he writes. "If adoption by a single man was a possibility,
then I wanted to try to make it happen."
The first half of this appealing and instructive memoir is
taken up with the lengthy process in the US that precedes the
referral of a foreign-born child: meetings, interviews, parenting
classes, paperwork, references, homestudy, more paperwork, and
a constant outflow of cash.
Klose initially envisions adopting a boy from South America
- he assumes from the start that a single man would never be
offered a girl for adoption - because he speaks Spanish, and
his early efforts focus on adoption possibilities throughout
that part of the world. All of these come to naught, either because
countries will not work with single men or because their fees
are too high. (A Peruvian adoption, for instance, costs $10,000,
plus travel expenses. Some countries are even higher.) During
the long and emotional cycle of hope and disappointment, Klose
expands his outlook and investigates prospects in other parts
of the world. Two years into the process, and desperate, he stumbles
onto an opportunity in Russia. This one, at last, results in
a referral, although the adoption isn't complete until he has
actually brought the boy home with him.
The second half of "Adopting Alyosha," in which
the author recounts his trip to Russia and events leading up
to the completed adoption, spans just a few weeks. Klose has
an acute eye for detail and considerable storytelling skills,
both of which are showcased especially well in the second half
of the book. His observations of post-communist Russia and Russians
are fascinating and entertaining, and the scene in which the
author, at long last, meets his son is quite moving. The climax
of the story, involving eleventh-hour complications with a provincial
bureaucrat and frantic attempts by the local adoption agency
to get final clearance for the adoption before time runs out,
reads like a cold-war thriller.
David Conrads is a freelance writer in Kansas City, Mo.
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