A few months ago I was browsing through a bookstore looking for a gift for a friend. If you're a reader, and you must be since you're reading this blog, you know how that goes. . . intentionally look for one book for the friend, unintentionally find three for yourself. I made eye contact with a friendly, eager B&N employee, and during the course of a two minute chat, found out that she is a high school English teacher, working part-time at said bookstore to supplement her income. I shared that I, too, had spent ten years teaching jr. high and high school English, and that I had also worked part-time at B&N at one point in my career decade. With a sigh of "I get you/you get me" understanding that comes when fellow English teachers meet, she glanced at the book in my hands: "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle," by Barbara Kingsolver.
"Oh, if you enjoy her writing and you like to read memoirs, you will adore Jeannette Walls! I must introduce you to Jeannette Walls!" Having found her mission for the moment, the bookseller/English teacher promptly jetted off down the aisle, beckoning me to follow. When we arrived at the display table which held two of Jeannette Walls' books, she picked one up, gazed reverently down at the cover, and offered it to me.
"You'll love this book, I just know you will." Her words tumbled out, breathlessly. "It's a memoir of a childhood--an awful, horrible childhood. I mean, just terrible. You can't imagine what this girl went through." The bookseller/English teacher teared up, then continued: "I mean the neglect, the poverty, just horrible!"
Coming out of her reverie, she glanced up and noticed the concern on my face. I mean, do I want to read the story of an awful, horrible, terrible childhood? She patted my arm reassuringly and said "I know you'll love it--it's awful, but hopeful!" With that, the bookseller/English teacher skedaddled off to bond with another customer.
So I bought the book, brought it home, and (guiltily) placed it in my bookshelf with other books I had bought but hadn't read.
"The Glass Castle" gathered dust.
* * *
Lately I've been thinking about the whole concept of "resilience"--how some people face awful, horrendous, difficult childhoods, yet turn out to be wonderful human beings, while others, even other members of the same family, spend their lives miserable and bitter. What is it in the people who achieve in life, who succeed in spite of the direst circumstances, that allows them to move beyond their experiences? It was this wondering that caused me to reach for the "awful, but hopeful" story in "The Glass Castle."
Jeannette Walls' childhood was, indeed, horrific, yet she paints the tales of her youth with a sympathetic brush. Her dad, a brilliant man given to alcohol, chases fortune wherever he thinks it can be found, always at the detriment of his wife and four children. Jeannette spends much of her childhood sleeping in a refrigerator box, subsisting on margarine sandwiches and whatever she can dig out of the garbage at school. The family lives for years without heat, electricity or indoor plumbing, as her father's alcoholism cost him numerous jobs.
At age 4, Jeannette spends six weeks in a hospital burn unit as the result of overturning a pot of boiling water while she was cooking her own hot dogs. At age 5, she falls out the backdoor of the family car as they are leaving town in a hurry. She rolls to the side of the highway, bruised and bloodied, where she waits for her parents to return when they realize they've lost her. Rather than taking Jeannette to a hospital or a doctor, her dad uses pliers to dig out the pieces of gravel embedded in her face, throws her back in the car, and continues on.
In spite of failures in every town they call "home", Jeannette's dad insists that someday he will strike it rich. When he does, he will build the family a "glass castle"--an intricately designed, solar-fueled, glass mansion in the desert. Until she was about 8, Jeannette believed him.
Jeannette's mother, a well-educated teacher and artist, is a free spirit--a self-described "adventure addict"--who implores her children to understand that it is more necessary to feed her artistic hunger than it is to feed the hunger in their bellies. She believes she is instilling "survival skills" in her children by letting them fend off vicious bullies, forage for their own food, and defend themselves from the sexual abuse of their uncle and grandma.
Jeannette, her brother and her two sisters, do, in fact, survive their childhood. Three out of four become productive adults who excel in their chosen fields, have families, and function well in adulthood. Jeannette, far from bitter, feels sorry for her parents, and long after she has finished school and moved out, attempts to help them when they wind up homeless. They choose homelessness over the constraints of "normalcy," though, and reject any offer of charity.
Why do some kids make it out, seemingly unscathed, possibly better for the hardships, while others flounder and never find their way? Why does one person's struggle create in them a depth of beauty, while another person's struggle leaves them hardened and lifeless? Why does pain make some more cognizant of joy and blessing and beauty? Why does it blind and maim and scar another?
"The Glass Castle" did not answer these questions, but made me wonder all the more-- and it was awful. But it left me hopeful.
Jeannette Walls' childhood was, indeed, horrific, yet she paints the tales of her youth with a sympathetic brush. Her dad, a brilliant man given to alcohol, chases fortune wherever he thinks it can be found, always at the detriment of his wife and four children. Jeannette spends much of her childhood sleeping in a refrigerator box, subsisting on margarine sandwiches and whatever she can dig out of the garbage at school. The family lives for years without heat, electricity or indoor plumbing, as her father's alcoholism cost him numerous jobs.
At age 4, Jeannette spends six weeks in a hospital burn unit as the result of overturning a pot of boiling water while she was cooking her own hot dogs. At age 5, she falls out the backdoor of the family car as they are leaving town in a hurry. She rolls to the side of the highway, bruised and bloodied, where she waits for her parents to return when they realize they've lost her. Rather than taking Jeannette to a hospital or a doctor, her dad uses pliers to dig out the pieces of gravel embedded in her face, throws her back in the car, and continues on.
In spite of failures in every town they call "home", Jeannette's dad insists that someday he will strike it rich. When he does, he will build the family a "glass castle"--an intricately designed, solar-fueled, glass mansion in the desert. Until she was about 8, Jeannette believed him.
Jeannette's mother, a well-educated teacher and artist, is a free spirit--a self-described "adventure addict"--who implores her children to understand that it is more necessary to feed her artistic hunger than it is to feed the hunger in their bellies. She believes she is instilling "survival skills" in her children by letting them fend off vicious bullies, forage for their own food, and defend themselves from the sexual abuse of their uncle and grandma.
Jeannette, her brother and her two sisters, do, in fact, survive their childhood. Three out of four become productive adults who excel in their chosen fields, have families, and function well in adulthood. Jeannette, far from bitter, feels sorry for her parents, and long after she has finished school and moved out, attempts to help them when they wind up homeless. They choose homelessness over the constraints of "normalcy," though, and reject any offer of charity.
* * *
"While we were in Midland, Mom painted dozens of variation and studies of the Joshua Tree. One time I saw a tiny Joshua tree sapling growing not too far from the old tree. I wanted to dig it up and replant it near our house. I told mom I would protect it from the wind and water it every day so that it could grow nice and tall and straight.
Mom frowned at me. 'You'd be destroying what makes it special,' she said. 'It's the Joshua tree's struggle that gives it its beauty'" (Walls, 38).
Mom frowned at me. 'You'd be destroying what makes it special,' she said. 'It's the Joshua tree's struggle that gives it its beauty'" (Walls, 38).
* * *
Resilience.Why do some kids make it out, seemingly unscathed, possibly better for the hardships, while others flounder and never find their way? Why does one person's struggle create in them a depth of beauty, while another person's struggle leaves them hardened and lifeless? Why does pain make some more cognizant of joy and blessing and beauty? Why does it blind and maim and scar another?
"The Glass Castle" did not answer these questions, but made me wonder all the more-- and it was awful. But it left me hopeful.
This was the book that started my book club! One mom read it, passed it on, and pretty soon we were all reading it and decided we might as well have a glass of wine and talk about it. :) And I love your rendition of the B&N lady's description - it IS horrible and hopeful and somehow not at all exploitative or tawdry (like A Child Called It, or Running With Scissors, two similar memoirs that I *hated.*)
ReplyDeleteSo, did you ever read Animal Vegetable Miracle? That's a favorite of mine.
Michelle , who wishes we lived closer and could chat books in person!