This is a memoir about a troubled childhood full of abuse and neglect. It’s not an easy read and I wasn’t looking for one. It follows her growing up years with her brother and parents and all the trauma you can imagine.
Her father is a piece of crap, to put it lightly. He is an alcoholic that spends most of his at-home hours terrorizing his family. When he isn’t home, they dread his coming home so they are never truly free of him. After reading her recollections of him, I can understand that fear.
And her mother isn’t much better in comparison. She doesn’t abuse the kids but she doesn’t stop the abuse either. She puts her head in the clouds and pretends that everything is just fine. Domestic violence doesn’t go away because you want it to, you have to stop it! Her mother failed them all.
When her father finally snaps, I expected more somehow. More untangling the emotional threads of her life. More in-depth onion peeling. I wanted to see her do the hard work to undo all the lessons that her upbringing taught at such high prices. But she did none of it. She drank, slept around, and went to Greece. I’m healed!!! The end. What?? Yeah, I’m confused too.
My first inclination was to give this a 2-star review. I mulled it over though, for several days I might add. Three is as high as I can go. She writes well. She knows how to create an atmosphere and add texture and shade to a story but in the end, there’s no story. There’s no healing final chapter. There’s no Oprah “Aha!” moment. And that is a true letdown.
⭐⭐⭐ /⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
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