The Glass Castle, by Jeannette Walls
The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls My rating: 3 of 5 stars I’ve had a hard time reading “ The Glass Castle ” by Jeannette Walls . Walls describes the horrors (and a few good times, few and far between) of her childhood and adolescence. While I kept wishing someone had intervened, I still felt thoroughly disengaged from the memoir. Walls describes everything without allowing any emotions to shine through. “Glass Castle” reads like it has been written by a detached observer. It’s a sterile, antiseptic report, which is undoubtedly well-written but, to me, not very interesting. Only during the very first chapter are there any meaningful emotional components and in her acknowledgements, Walls states being “grateful to my father, Rex S. Walls, for dreaming all those big dreams”. These are the dreams of a man who repeatedly tried to sell his own daughter to strangers to rape her. Moreover, he goes on to victim-blame her. Walls is also grateful to her mother “for believing in art and truth”...