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I read The Glass Castle, by Jeannette Walls, only because my grandmother asked me to. There are a very limited number of reasons I would be willing to read a sad memoir about a traumatic childhood with weird, less-than-responsible parents, and "My grandmother asked me to" is on the top of the very short list.
I didn't enjoy reading the book, and I'm not recommending it, and really this is a sideways rant that has stuck with me for the *several* *years* since I read the book.
There's a point, late in the memoir, where the author runs into her homeless parents in the city. She asks if there's anything she can do for them (presumably short of housing them, which she doesn't have the money for and they don't seem to want from her).
Ok, here's the thing: the parents ask her to get them a YMCA membership. And the author acts like this makes no sense and is a non-productive indulgence.
This is the strangest, most disconnected moment in the memoir for me because if you're homeless in a major city, a YMCA membership would be a *wonderful* thing to have. Frequent, free access to safe, hygienic bathing facilities! Drinking water! Lounges to spend daytime in when it's cold/rainy. And, y'know, the chance to move your body a bit in safety. So, basically, that the author doesn't see why this is a sensible request just... boggles me. YMCA membership would be way up there with monthly transit pass on the "makes being homeless much easier to handle" list.
Yeah. So, anyway. I don't know how a woman who spent her entire childhood marginally housed and short on resources lacks the imaginative empathy to understand why the YMCA membership is a useful request, but there it is: the one main thing that stuck with me from The Glass Castle.
I didn't enjoy reading the book, and I'm not recommending it, and really this is a sideways rant that has stuck with me for the *several* *years* since I read the book.
There's a point, late in the memoir, where the author runs into her homeless parents in the city. She asks if there's anything she can do for them (presumably short of housing them, which she doesn't have the money for and they don't seem to want from her).
Ok, here's the thing: the parents ask her to get them a YMCA membership. And the author acts like this makes no sense and is a non-productive indulgence.
This is the strangest, most disconnected moment in the memoir for me because if you're homeless in a major city, a YMCA membership would be a *wonderful* thing to have. Frequent, free access to safe, hygienic bathing facilities! Drinking water! Lounges to spend daytime in when it's cold/rainy. And, y'know, the chance to move your body a bit in safety. So, basically, that the author doesn't see why this is a sensible request just... boggles me. YMCA membership would be way up there with monthly transit pass on the "makes being homeless much easier to handle" list.
Yeah. So, anyway. I don't know how a woman who spent her entire childhood marginally housed and short on resources lacks the imaginative empathy to understand why the YMCA membership is a useful request, but there it is: the one main thing that stuck with me from The Glass Castle.
