Joyce Carol Oates once observed that Andre Dubus possesses the remarkable ability to evoke readerly empathy for his characters, even those involved in criminal activities. One such character is Luke Ripley, a father faced with a moral dilemma when his daughter, having driven under the influence, accidentally kills a man. Despite the gravity of her actions, Dubus crafts the narrative in a way that allows readers to connect emotionally with Ripley’s turmoil and his daughter’s plight. This nuanced portrayal gives rise to a sense of redemption, not through the absolution of guilt but through the profound human sympathy Dubus invokes for these flawed individuals.

In the poignant conclusion of "A Father's Story," Luke engages in a compelling dialogue with God, akin to the biblical conversations seen with Job. This introspective exchange provides a window into Luke's moral conflict, as he wrestles with his choices and their ethical implications. In his morning prayer, Luke hesitantly brings up his past relationships with two women after Gloria, hinting at a defiance likened to questioning divine authority. He audaciously reminds God, "You never had a daughter," boldly suggesting that God might lack the personal experience to fully understand a father's love.

God, in this metaphysical exchange, counters Luke's assertion by questioning whether his love for his daughter surpasses his devotion to the divine. God labels this as "a love in weakness," implying that Luke's decisions may be clouded by his affections. Yet, Luke, determined and unwavering, concludes the conversation with a simple yet profound reminder: his love for his daughter mirrors the divine love for humanity. This statement not only defends his actions but also aligns his paternal instincts with a broader, universal empathy, pulling the narrative full circle back to the core of human and divine connections.

Luke’s sharp and sometimes contentious defense of his actions intriguingly brings God into the fold as a fellow father, subtly suggesting a shared understanding of paternal instincts. However, this clever narrative maneuver does not conceal Luke’s tendency to bend church doctrines to his own will. By engaging in what is often criticized as situational ethics, Luke asserts his autonomy in determining moral rightness or wrongness. For those who cherish the notion of the individual as sacrosanct, Luke emerges as a compelling figure. Yet, his choices may still provoke lingering doubts, inviting readers to question the validity of his self-determined moral compass.