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Taking my internet one day at a time.

This is a memoir of a vicious East Texas childhood, with substantial kinship to Jeannette Walls and a bit of relation to Mikal Gilmore (though not as good), if those are the sort of memoirs you read. It's the kind of childhood survivable only by children who do not know an alternative, with parents who drink hard and never quite have any money and should not be allowed near motor vehicles or firearms. That sort of book.

It's quite a good one of those, coherent and structured and consistently interesting. It's not its fault that I've read too many books in this general genre and therefore get the vague feeling of having heard all of these stories before, at some point, from someone standing maybe three feet to the left of the current author. I don't know. Maybe I feel this shouldn't have to be enough of a genre to be predictable. Maybe it's just that this is the sort of book I nitpick, both out of having read others and as a distancing mechanism from the events, as of course people who had that sort of childhood have had a great deal happen to them that is very believable and yet exactly the kind of thing that my parents and relatives always said would kill one instantly, such as drinking substantially before the age of ten. Maybe I was in the wrong mood.

At any rate, a book that rings true to me only most of the time has still got a lot of worthwhile in it, so I still say this is better than average, and probably worth the time for people who like this sort of thing, as this is the sort of thing that you would like.


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March 2017

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