Journals are our present day children’s stories, the nerve racking tales of the Brothers Grimm reconsidered from the point of view of the brave tyke who has, despite seemingly insurmountable opposition, avoided the destiny of being cleaved up, cooked and served to the family for supper. What the diary essayist knows is the thing that perusers of Grimm intuit: the adoring guardian and the malevolent stepparent may as a general rule be the same individual saw at progressive minutes and in various lights. Thus the autobiographer is confronted with the overwhelming test of depicting the close shave from being heated into gingerbread while in the meantime endeavoring to comprehend, pardon and even love the witch.
How fitting, then, that the title of Jeannette Walls’ chilling journal, “The Glass Castle,” ought to inspire the engineering of imagination and enchantment.
A little youngster is brought up in a useless family always on the keep running from the FBI. Living in neediness, she grows up guided by her alcoholic, smart dad who diverts her with mystical stories to keep her brain off the family’s desperate state, and her childish, protester mother who has no aim of raising a family, alongside her more youthful sibling and sister, and her other more seasoned sister. Together, they fight for one another as they develop in an irregular voyage that is their family life.