#3: The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls
This book is incredibly sad. Jeannette Walls lived what was at once a fascinating and horrifying childhood, characterized mostly by poverty and hunger caused by her rather ridiculous dreamy parents. They were selfish and insecure and needy and immature and their four children, who had practically no care from the time they were toddlers, carry the scars (some literal, some figurative) of their parents’ neglect to this day. On the other hand, the Wallses had experiences almost nobody can claim, a self-sufficiency that no one can question, and a drive that no one can sully. So there’s that. Also, Jeannette Walls is a really great writer; she knows exactly how to tell her story and the book has no saggy spots, and the prose is solid and functional, like the author herself appears to be. If nothing else, this book made me grateful for the vastly different way in which I was raised, and for my mother, who lent me the book, in particular.
