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A review by amandagstevens
I'm Glad My Mom Died by Jennette McCurdy
5.0
The title and cover design of this book nearly kept me away from it. I thought the book itself would consist of macabre humor (no thanks) or snarky bitterness. But the blurb drew me just as the rest of the packaging repelled me, and at last I decided to give it a chance via audiobook. And...I binged it. The short chapters, the vivid and pithy style, the astute perspective all kept me engrossed. And yes, there's a vein of deadpan unflinching sardonic anger here that could be misread as flippancy, but this anger is never unfair.
What a strong writer Jennette McCurdy is, immersing the reader in her world and her thoughts and her heart--as a small confused child who's already so deeply enmeshed with her narcissistic abuser; as a guilt-driven self-minimizing teenager whose enmeshment is deepening into resentment (which only triggers more guilt); as a broken young adult for whom grief for her abuser is now added to the weights of guilt, confusion, and anger. Ultimately I couldn't set the book down until I reached the end of the journey with her--through abuse and trauma, confusion and sadness, progress and relapse, help and healing, and finally a scarred but stepping-forward freedom. I felt so much along with her. I felt so proud of and grateful for her willingness to commit her story to paper and offer it to strangers like me. I hope I held her story well.
What a strong writer Jennette McCurdy is, immersing the reader in her world and her thoughts and her heart--as a small confused child who's already so deeply enmeshed with her narcissistic abuser; as a guilt-driven self-minimizing teenager whose enmeshment is deepening into resentment (which only triggers more guilt); as a broken young adult for whom grief for her abuser is now added to the weights of guilt, confusion, and anger. Ultimately I couldn't set the book down until I reached the end of the journey with her--through abuse and trauma, confusion and sadness, progress and relapse, help and healing, and finally a scarred but stepping-forward freedom. I felt so much along with her. I felt so proud of and grateful for her willingness to commit her story to paper and offer it to strangers like me. I hope I held her story well.