It's hard in some ways to write a review for The Glass Castle, a bestselling, beloved book that I've been aware of since it came out in hardcover and then paperback and I remember we could never seem to keep it in stock as a teenager working part time at an indie bookstore. I didn't read much nonfiction then, so I never picked it up. Only now have I turned my attention to Jeannette Walls' memoir, seeing it as some glaring oversight in terms of big books or authors I haven't read and need to address ASAP. I'll start off by saying I enjoyed reading this, though my enjoyment felt occasionally like rubbernecking at a five car pile up on the highway and one is a tractor-trailer and it's on fire, and so my enjoyment made me a bit comfortable at times (which is no bad thing, it's great when books push you to recognize your own bias and perspective and question yourself morally). Walls' childhood is littered with anecdotes by turn fascinating and horrifying and humorous, and she achieves a fantastic balance covering what it was like to grow up the child of Rex and Rose Mary Walls in an objective, dispassionate way, but also is able to show how she and (most of) her siblings were able to survive and thrive in spite of (and Walls allows "because of" too) her dysfunctional, chaotic upbringing. And though Rex and Rose Mary have some truly abominable, selfish, insane moments between them, there's also love, education, and resilience passed from parent to child and then back the other way, and the sibling bond is protective, fierce, and funny. This is one of the gold standards for family memoir and fucked up childhood memoir for a reason.

But as much as her childhood was illuminating and shocking, and I applaud Walls' candor about the levels of her parents misbehavior while also showing the positive qualities they were able to instill in their children, I didn't love this memoir. I suppose I judge nonfiction on a similar level to fiction, but in some ways my inner critic is a bit sharper. For nonfiction to be great for me, the narrative has to be absorbing and the research has to be sound, but I also prefer a distinctive and fluid writing style (not everything has to be lyrical, but I need more than a recitation of facts and events) and I prefer that the sum of the parts not be greater than the whole. Great memoirs for me (thinking of Insomniac City , The Best We Could Do and When Breath Becomes Air for starters) achieve this, so I'm overcome with feeling and appreciation and interest at the conclusion, and I've enjoyed the anecdotes presented, admired the prose, and been able to take away larger meaning, not necessarily for myself but for the broader human experience. I did not feel the same from The Glass Castle, probably from some combination of the removed, dry, journalistic prose (which I understand why she used it to tell her story effectively, but it did limit the emotional connection for me as a reader and could occasionally bore me as a lover of more exciting prose styles whether quiet or sharp or incisive or questioning or contemplative) and the lack of a larger connective thread beyond the very specific tale of overcoming parental obstacles by the Walls children.

I guess ultimately for me The Glass Castle didn't transcend what it was at face value: a dysfunctional family history with an out for the author and siblings at the end. And for me to really like or love a memoir, I need more than just interesting anecdotes (though I readily admit I couldn't look away from the page as Walls related moments major and minor, completely insane and completely endearing). I'd probably rate this 3.5 stars and round down to 3 stars. I would recommend it to regular memoir readers if they haven't read this yet: again, I can see how and why this memoir is enduringly popular, and will probably bubble back onto bestsellers lists around the movie adaptation releases. But I didn't find it as special or transcendent as other memoirs I've read and loved recently, and so for me, it's a solid "I liked it".

I really don't know how I'm supposed to defend my dislike of this book? I mean, what kind of asshole says, "Man, this book about a woman's miserable childhood really bummed me out, two stars"?

But for real - this book about a woman's miserable childhood really bummed me out. Like, if you read Angela's Ashes and thought it just needed more sexual assault of the pre-pubescent protagonist, then The Glass Castle is for you! There's a bit early on where the dad takes his kids to the zoo and I sure hope you enjoy it, because that's pretty much the only truly happy interaction Jeannette Walls has with her parents for the rest of the book.

And it's totally unfair of me to complain about that. Jeannette Walls owes me nothing, and she definitely isn't obligated to gloss over the uglier aspects of her (I cannot emphasize this enough) truly awful childhood just to make readers more comfortable. So honestly, it's not even the fact that this book is XXX-rated Misery Porn that bothers me. What I really don't like about this memoir is that Walls, even as she recounts stories where she and her siblings were being routinely abused by her parents, seems unwilling to look this ugliness fully in the face, and condemn her parents for the way they treated her and her siblings. She ends (no spoilers, relax) on a note of, not quite forgiveness, but acceptance of the fact that her parents were just being true to themselves, and did the best they could.

And that's somehow the most depressing thing about the book. The Glass Castle seems to frequently market itself as a story of an unconventional childhood that was tough, sure, but full of love and adventure. (Probably the movie adaptation, which made major changes in order to make the story more heartwarming, is mostly responsible for this) But in reality, The Glass Castle is just the story of an abusive childhood, written by a woman who maybe doesn't realize how truly toxic her parents really are.

Anyway. If starving kids, alcoholic fathers, dangerously narcissistic mothers, and sexual assault makes up your preferred memoir cocktail, enjoy.

The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls is a memoir about a dysfunctional family. Walls's father was an alcoholic and thief, and her parents were children who never grew up. The Glass Castle is a disturbing, freakish, and amazing ride that I cannot believe is a true story.

What makes this book so compelling is the author's honesty. Walls does not shy away from detailing the heartbreak, deprivation, and dysfunction of her childhood. Yet despite all the challenges she faced, Walls never lost her sense of humour or her determination to succeed.

Walls' writing is both powerful and eloquent. She brings readers on an unforgettable journey from a trailer park in Arizona to New York City, telling the story of her remarkable family along the way.

It is a great reminder that you never know what someone has gone through or where they come from, regardless of how privileged they may look.

I found The Glass Castle to be an absolutely amazing book. Walls has a gift for storytelling, and she manages to make what could be a depressing memoir into an interesting and engaging read. Her descriptions of her childhood are so vivid that I felt like I was right there with her, experiencing everything along with her. The Glass Castle is definitely one of the best memoirs I have read in a while, and I would highly recommend it to anyone interested in this genre.

Jeannette Walls has written a masterpiece of a memoir. The Glass Castle is powerful, unforgettable, and utterly remarkable.

Another Update: I just saw the movie!!! I liked it! Woody Harrelson - Brie Larson
and Naomi Watts were all great! I thought they got the important 'duel' emotions just right. On one end - the parents did not 'protect' their kids appropriately at all-- lots of crazy dangerous chaos-
On the other end - there was no question the parents loved wholeheartedly their children AND there were 'some' great gifts they gave their children - so our emotions are 'mixed'.
At the end of the movie when they show the real -Jeanette Walls & her mom- plus wonderful photos of the kids growing up... it's very touching?



Update: I just read some place that a movie is being made of this book. I want to share something about my relationship with "The Glass Castle" --that I've shared with a few people on this site --but never with the larger community.
I read this book in 2006. It was a gift from a friend. She mailed it to me from New York. She said...
"YOU MUST READ THIS BOOK". The book had only been out about a week. I wasn't much of a reader.
My friend knew me well --knew about my childhood --and said ...."you 'will' read this book".

Paul and I were leaving for Harbin Hot Springs --a regular -'get-a-way' place for us at the time. I took "The Glass Castle" with me. I mentioned in my other 'little' review --that I read it while sitting under a tree. The author became my hero!
What I 'didn't' say was ....."I then read another book, right away"! I liked it too! Then another book... Then another! I HAD *NOT* BEEN A READER UNTIL THIS BOOK!!!!!!!!

I'm not saying this was the best book in the entire world -(but it was great),- but I'm saying 'something' happened to me. I have been reading book-after-book -after -book (never NOT reading a book) --since 2006!!!
Looking back, I'm 'thankful' the following few books were all good experiences. Had they been awful books....I might not have kept reading.
Having several good books under my belt, if I hit a book I didn't like later on, --I didn't worry any longer. I knew reading was enjoyable. I felt comfort in ways I couldn't explain.
I wanted to call my long time friend 'reader' friends from Jr. High School (Lisi, Renee, Ron) ---friends who were always reading --and say....."why didn't you tell me"? "why didn't you tell me how intimate -personal - WONDERFUL - READING WAS? ------
Now, as an adult, I was not reading for a class....or a grade. I wasn't reading to please anyone!!!!
I'm still clear I have holes in my education. I KNOW I'm a LATE BLOOMER READER.....(For many many years of reading these past years --I still wasn't sure if I would call myself a reader --I just knew I was always reading)
Point is ---I found READING ---LATE IN LIFE!!! (Its NEVER TOO LATE).
Nobody can take away something you really enjoy! I may not be the smartest cookie in the room --- but I'm
honored to 'be-in-the-room'!!!
I love to hear from THE FLASHLIGHT READERS!!! Oh my gosh --you guys have such great 'childhood' reading memories. I melt hearing them. (sometimes cry).
I love to hear from the READERS whose parents read to you OFTEN as a child.
I love to hear about books YOUR parents gave you
I love to hear about books Members share with their children
I love to CHAT about books we love together (this si get to participate 'with you now)
I love to read 'too'!
If I left this site tomorrow ---I'd still have reading -- I'd still have friends to chat about with about books.
Its real now -- -- I read! THIS BOOK --(for whatever reason) --- kicked my new reading- habit into high gear!!! ----
So, I'm very thankful to Jeannette Walls --she changed my life!
Any 3 year old who tries to cook her own hot dog on the kitchen stove alone (my god -bless the little girl Jeannette was) --has me melting in the palm of her hands.

Thanks --its never too late to become a reader!


------------------------------------------------------------------------

Agree with my friend, Victoria!!! (who just read the book and wrote a 5 star review)


5 stars!!!

I read this book sittng under a tree at Harbin Hot Springs one summer --

Jeannette Walls became my hero!

Now I get why people like this memoir so much.

Though it is a memoir and a true story, both the writing style and the way Walls reminisces about her childhood make it seem like more of a fairy tale. My favourite non-fiction books are those that don't lose the compelling flow of a good fiction book - that still pull you into another world and life, dragging you along for the ride. This is one of those.

I especially liked reading about Walls' complex and conflicting thoughts about her parents and childhood. When she's writing about her youth, she writes with the rose-tinted glasses of a young girl who loves her family; as she grows, she begins to see the shadows of reality creeping in - her father's alcoholism, her mother's selfish behaviour, the lack of food in the cupboards as a parental failure and not a normality.

And, through it all, she still loves her parents. She remembers her father as an intelligent man full of fantastical stories, and her mother as a spirited artist. It's interesting, though, how differently I felt toward them.

Normally, a convincing story has me feeling the same way as the narrator, but even though I could understand Walls's love for her parents, I despised them for being selfish and neglectful. I hated them for allowing a 3 year old to use the stove (and cause herself serious burns). I felt extreme anger, not love and understanding, towards them.

But that's not a criticism. The Glass Castle is a beautifully-written, emotional read. A true bildungsroman, full of dark and happy times.

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Rating: 5.0/5.0

What an outstanding book!! Usually many nonfiction books tend to drag unnecessarily but I cannot say the same here. The book had the right amount of writing and I have never felt bored for a second. Although the book shows the hard times the author has lived through but to us readers this felt like an adventure. I felt like I was on a rollercoaster ride enjoying both riding to the top or sliding down to the bottom. Honestly, I have read this book in a very relaxed slow way. I just did not want it to end fast! I wanted to enjoy the adventure ride as long as possible.

This is a memoir about how to survive the hardships of life, being in a dysfunctional family does not mean that life is over. There are so many lessons to be learnt from this book. The writing style is absolutely brilliant. The good thing is that there is a movie that is going to be released based on this book. I hope it does justice to this little gem.

Very highly recommended.

Jeannette Walls had the kind of parents that make even the freakiest families on Wife Swap look like saints.

These are the kind of people who let their 3 year-old cook hot dogs, and when she catches on fire and has to get skin grafts, they end up breaking her out of the hospital. They are the types that put three kids and a newborn in the back of a U-Haul truck and don't notice that the back gate flies open as they speed down the highway. They spend every cent on booze and food for themselves while their kids don't have one decent pair of shoes and root through trash cans at school for something to eat. They tell their daughter that her near sexual assault is just a "perceived crime." They blow every chance they get, from inheriting a home and letting it be overrun by roaches and termites and vagrants, they lose job after job after job before finally settling in some holler in West Virginia that probably made Loretta Lynn's childhood home look like a mansion. The whole book is a series of bad choices and disasters, and everything keeps getting worse.

Amazingly - especially among today's writers - Walls never once sinks in to bathos. She never even tells us what she herself was feeling. She describes her family dysfunction and triumph against adversity without getting in our faces. Given that so many writers lately are emotionally manipulative, there was a huge feeling of liberation in having an emotionally absent narrator. Combine that with great writing and you've got an official unputdownable book.

Kicked ass.

Somehow the narrator steps outside of her unusual and unimaginable life and speaks about her experiences as if she was referring to someone else. I had to keep reminding myself that this was a memoir and not a work of fiction and that these were situations that were not created but recalled, and with such vivid details.

There are four children in the Walls' family, all of whom turned out quite differently and whose experiences brought them to different places in their lives. Unfortunately, we only get to hear the perspective of one of them here and it is quite unlikely that the other three grown children remember the events the same way.

Since I studied psychology in college, I was intrigued by the notion that despite their upbringing, these children, with the exception of one who we hear little about as an adult, turn out as normally functioning members of our society. Educated, too.

It is quite apparent after reading this story that one does not need money or a plethora of material things to "make it" in the world. In fact, perhaps quite the opposite is true. Would the Walls' children learn the lessons they did if it weren't for their parents showing them and teaching them (without trying) that hard work and responsibility bring you certain advantages in life? After all, these children had to scrounge for their own food and learned to survive without their parents and in fact, spent many days and nights, most likely, worrying about them and taking care of them, both physically and emotionally.

These children saw their neighbors and classmates in a much different light. While people looked to her with pity, Jeannette sees others much differently than they see themselves and is inspired and motivated by simply wanting more, wanting to have enough and not go hungry.

One could argue that these children were neglected and that it would've been better for them to be removed from their home as children and brought into houses with warm food, warm beds and warm and loving 'parents.' One could also argue that being taken away from the only home and the only family they know could've done more harm than good.

This is quite an interesting and thought-provoking book and one that will most likely become required reading as it focuses on survival and reveals how young people today no longer rely on their instincts. Their own survival skills are not tested since they are provided with every opportunity, and an overabundance of choices which could possibly take away the chances of their ability to "make it on their own" once they step into the real world.

Once I let my frustration with the parents' neglect go, I actually enjoyed this book. Because of her matter-of-fact, non-whining writing, I enjoyed reading this book the entire time and actually put off other things so I could read more. As a disclaimer to my following comments, I am in no way condoning all of their parenting style and I also acknowledge they did not provide for their children like a parent should, but I have to say that I learned quite a bit from her parents! The positive things from this book stuck with me, not the negative ones, so that is what my comments will be about.
The description of her growing up years gave me ideas and motivation of how to be passionate about hobbies and life in general. Her parents taught me how to make learning fun and to see the potential in people and situations (i.e."this house needs fixing, but it has good bones"). I went away from this book with a desire to have more vigor and creativity in life and to pass that on to my children (i.e. the mom bought tons of shoes from thrift stores and played classical/jazz/country/etc. music and they danced around having a ball while learning all about different genres of music).
I also feel that we've become too much of "helicopter" parents -- hovering over our children making sure we direct every thought and action they have. We see this as helping, but I think it is actually detrimental to their own learning and growth. We are seeing the effects of dependent, inexperienced college-aged kids (this was most notable in southern CA). I think many of life's lessons could and should be learned at home, which means a loosening of the reins so that mistakes are still made while we are around to help as parents. Granted, in the book, her parents take this self-learning to an extreme, but I still learned from it. My perception is that (the US) society labels you as a "bad parent" if your child is allowed to 1)fall off a slide at the playground, 2)go without their snack one day at school if they forgot it(vs. you bringing it to them), 3) sort out a (non-physical) fight they got in with a friend without a parent getting involved, etc.
I also found it amusing that she had such hard time accepting that her mom wanted to be homeless. I can understand how she'd still be embarrased or get tired of having to explain to people, but I agreed with her mom when she said that her daughter had the problem with esteem because she still worried about what other people thought.
Anyway, it got me thinking so much about what's most important in life and how important love is (I never once doubted her parents love for her and she gave the impression that she never did either) that I highly recommend it! I had a couple friends that didn't like it, mostly because they couldn't get past things like her digging in trash cans at school because she was so hungry('People like that shouldn't be allowed to have kids' they said). But it was all the other things I learned (naming a star for your birthday) that makes me want to read it again.

My sister saw The Glass Castle on my coffee table and said, “Oh, I read that. It’s kind of . . .” then she paused and we both were awkwardly silent for a minute. “Well, I was going to say, it’s kind of like us, a little bit, but not –“

“Yeah,” I said. “I wasn’t going to say it – because not all of it – “

“Yeah, not all of it.”

We didn’t talk about it again.

When I first saw this book, I think I died a little inside because of the cover. I didn’t hate The Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood like I hated The Mermaid Chair or (*shudder*) Bastard out of Carolina, but when there’s a little girl on the cover of a book, looking all innocent, it’s like a movie with the word “Education” in the title. You just know you’re in for a published trip to the psychiatrist’s couch. Kiddy-sex and soul-searching. I’m not saying people shouldn’t tell their stories (I mean, look at me, I’m all up in your website telling my stories), but I do think people should get a handle on what their story is before they try to tell it. Or at least before they make me read it. Sorry, that’s kind of asshole-ish of me to say, but I just think a lot of books with innocent little girls on the cover are really arrogant. They have this sense that since some man did something horrifying, everything that women do, including dancing around a fire with girlfriends or taking exotic lovers, is just part of the loving circle of nature’s healing. I am such a fan of women, and so I take it personally when we look like morons.

This book has absolutely nothing in common with its cover. I haven’t written a review of it before because I think it is a perfect book, and how do you review a perfect book? I’m like Wayne and Garth when they meet Alice Cooper. This book is my Alice Cooper. I’m sure it wouldn’t be everyone’s Alice Cooper, but to me this is exactly what a book should be. Everything about the book is simple, concise, and action-packed. It makes me laugh and it makes me cry. The people are incredible, but deep and smart and human. In some ways, I think this book is the Great American Story, but it’s the story none of us talk about and all of us live. In other ways, the book is so specific and personal to the Walls family that I never would have imagined the stories if I had not been told them.

Virginia Woolf and Rainer Maria Rilke, two of the wisest people I have read, both ask when and how women will be able to tell stories without being self-conscious that they are women. How can we write, or even live, not as reactions to men, but as separate masters of our own experiences? I don’t know where the genders are on the space/time continuum of respecting each other, and I think there are probably gender-related specifics to any story (maybe that’s just natural and not even bad), but there is something about this book that is just human and strong. It is compassionate and unflinching. Oh, I hate adjectives. Just, read the first chapter of this book, and if you don’t think it’s compelling, don’t keep reading because it’s probably not for you.

My family was nomadic, like Jeannette Walls’s family, but, like I say, all of her stories, and my stories, are unique. When I last lived with my parents, it struck me that we never really understand other people’s relationships with each other. I grew up, probably as many of us did, thinking that my parents never really got along and that my mom was a victim of my dad’s anger and wild scheming. But, later, I realized they probably both got something that I never understood out of their relationship. I think a lot of this book is about how we know the people we are close to and, also, never really do – how it is useless to hold other people to our own standards of what love or responsibility looks like. But, still, it is about holding each other responsible. Or, maybe the book is just about her family with no real moral lesson at all. Walls is so loyal to her stories in an almost scientific way. None of the adult outrage that contaminates so many stories of children creeps into Walls’s. She tells you what happened, and maybe how she felt about it at the time, but she doesn’t impose emotion on the reader. Here’s just a small part (well, actually, half . . . I couldn’t resist) of the first chapter to give you a little taste:

Mom was sitting at a booth, studying the menu, when I arrived. She’d made an effort to fix herself up. She wore a bulky gray sweater with only a few light stains, and black leather men’s shoes. She’d washed her face, but her neck and temples were still dark with grime.

She waved enthusiastically when she saw me. “It’s my baby girl!” she called out. I kissed her cheek. Mom had dumped all the plastic packets of soy sauce and duck sauce and hot-and-spicy mustard from the table into her purse. Now she emptied a wooden bowl of dried noodles into it as well. “A little snack for later on,” she explained.

We ordered. Mom chose the Seafood Delight. “You know how I love my seafood,” she said.

She started talking about Picasso. She’d seen a retrospective of his work and decided he was hugely overrated. All the cubist stuff was gimmicky, as far as she was concerned. He hadn’t really done anything worthwhile after his Rose Period.

“I’m worried about you,” I said. “Tell me what I can do to help.”

Her smile faded. “What makes you think I need your help?”

“I’m not rich,” I said. “But I have some money. Tell me what it is you need.”

She thought for a moment. “I could use an electrolysis treatment.”

“Be serious.”

“I am serious. If a woman looks good, she feels good.”

“Come on, Mom.” I felt my shoulders tightening up, the way they invariably did during these conversations. “I’m talking about something that could help you change your life, make it better.”

“You want to help me change my life?” Mom asked. “I’m fine. You’re the one who needs help. Your values are all confused.”

“Mom, I saw you picking through trash in the East Village a few days ago.”

“Well, people in this country are too wasteful. It’s my way of recycling.” She took a bite of her Seafood Delight. “Why didn’t you say hello?”

“I was too ashamed, Mom. I hid.”

Mom pointed her chopsticks at me. “You see?” she said. “Right there. That’s exactly what I’m saying. You’re way too easily embarrassed. Your father and I are who we are. Accept it.”

“And what am I supposed to tell people about my parents?”

“Just tell the truth,” Mom said. “That’s simple enough.”

It’s been a while since I read this book, so a lot of the stories aren’t fresh in my mind, but some are so vivid to me that I think of them whenever I see a trash can or think of the desert. In high school, I thought that American history was the most boring topic imaginable. Then, in college, I took a class called the History of Women in the U.S., and I realized that I think the history of industry and conquest is mind-numbing, but the history of actual people is riveting. The Glass Castle is a real, honest history (or as honest as histories can be) of people in America. It is so close to me and so foreign in just the way this country is.

It is also, in a way, a tribute to family oral histories. My dad has a . . . loose . . . relationship with the truth, as I’ve probably mentioned on this site before. In the past couple of years, every time I see one of my siblings, we sit around and tell stories from my dad or about my dad, trying to weed out what actually happened, what got a nice polish in the story factory, and what is an outright lie. I get that same feeling from this book – of siblings sitting around and saying, “Do you remember . . .” and “You weren’t there this one time . . .” or “No, that’s just what Dad said happened, what actually happened was . . .” I’m sure someday, my siblings and I will put together a history of our own, since every one of us seems to have inherited the storytelling gene. Whatever I write will be in some way inspired by this book.

Despite my extreme reluctance to reading family dysfunction memoirs, it was (thanks to my Goodreads friends' overwhelmingly positive reception to this, as well as an announcement of its big-screen adaptation) nigh time to finally give it a try.

What Jeannette Walls' The Glass Castle lacks in poetic splash and clear-cut veracity, it more than makes up for with the one of the most compulsively readable, train-wreckiest stories about an f'ed-up childhood I've ever encountered. On multiple occasions I found myself exclaiming "there's no way in hell anyone's parents could be this horrid", yet by book's end, Ms. Walls succeeds in convincing us just that. What's remarkable is that, as wretched as the Walls siblings' lives must've been, as terrible as (we all must certainly recognize) their parents certainly were, Walls is able to somehow burrow deep and extract love from the cesspool of crap parenting. That she (along with her siblings) was able to convey that love, and rise above to become relatively successful adults is somewhat of a miracle; certainly memoir-worthy, anyway. Really glad I gave this one a chance.

I couldn't put this book down - it was a wonderful memoir. The story was so odd that it seemed hard to believe, yet you knew it was likely a lifestyle this unusual, time and time again would not be made up. I found the parents to be infuriating, selfish, neglectful and irresponsible throughout the entire story - the mom more so than the dad, which a lot of people probably disagree with, but regardless, the story had the right amount of details and moved along at what I felt was the right pace. Jeannette and her siblings were resourceful given their circumstances and I felt for them, over & over throughout the book. I was happy with the ending too, and would easily recommend this book to anyone looking for a truly great memoir.