The Glass Castle

So, The Glass Castle. Wow again. This is a book that's going to stick with me. Written by Jeannette Walls, it's the story of her incredibly nomadic, difficult, extremely poor and wildly uncertain childhood. Her parents were free spirits, to say the least: her father came across as brilliant, but he was an alcoholic who also had an outrageously grandiose sense of self; her mother was likely bipolar, incredibly self-absorbed and seemed to lack any significant ability to connect with and care for others. They moved frequently, often in the middle of the night to avoid all manner of things (like the law), often went hungry and lacked adequate housing and amenities like electricity, plumbing and so forth. In a nutshell, Walls and her three siblings had very little materially, saw some really awful stuff during their childhoods and often seemed to be raising themselves. However, what struck me about this story was that while her parents were abject failures in some regards, in other ways it seems they managed to teach their kids some valuable lessons. Both parents were bright and placed tremendous value on knowledge. The three oldest kids were avid and advanced readers, had a great deal of exposure to the arts (Walls' mom had visions of becoming a famous artist and painted constantly; Walls' sister is now a very accomplished artist) and knew a fair amount about geology, math and the like. Because the parents so often left the children to their own devices, they were independent and spent a lot of time exploring their surroundings, whatever those were at the time. Today, the oldest three kids are successful in their respective fields (sounds like the youngest sibling didn't fare well at all).

I guess what I'm trying to say is that while I came away from this book fairly horrified by the parents' selfishness and the many ways they neglected and didn't in any way care for their children, I did feel reflective about the ways in which the antithesis of the Walls methods can be equally damaging. We all hear about helicopter parents, those who coddle their children, never let them fall, do everything for them, basically blow smoke up their bums literally and figuratively all day long. And I don't think that's going to work out real well for those kids. What are they learning to do? How are they learning to deal with rejection/failure/challenges? What are they learning to value if nothing is hard to accomplish or come by?

The Walls kids had to struggle for pretty much everything, and while I certainly want to provide my children all the safety and love and support in the world, I do think there's something (much) to be said for backing off a bit, for letting them work out their own squabbles, for setting rules and sticking to them no matter how much they don't like them, for letting tumbles happen, for refusing to be and do everything.

Opportunities are nothing if you don't know how to appreciate and take advantage of them. Life-changing experiences don't happen without some sort of struggle. I think about how wildly and primally and intensely I love my children, how I want them to always be happy and feel safe. But to ask nothing of them, to demand nothing in return (respect, doing their fair share), to keep them shielded from all difficulties and sadnesses and disappointments seems as troubling as the kinds of neglect Walls and her siblings often experienced.

Food for thought...

2 books/2 weeks

Unbelievable! I can't recall the last time I finished two books in two weeks, much less substantive, weighty ones. I suppose doing so requires a four day there-and-back international trip alone to get started. Sheesh. In any case, what a pleasure, what an almost-forgotten joy, to immerse myself in works that made me want to trade sleep for a few more pages. The first was Cocktail Hour Under the Tree of Forgetfulness by Alexandra Fuller. Isn't that a hell of a title?! I first came across Fuller when I read Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight many years ago. Both are about her family (mom and dad are from Scotland and England but have lived in Central Africa for most of their lives) and her childhood in Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe), both are quite painful at times regarding family dysfunction and tragedy, and both are both extremely well-written.

I spent three incredible weeks in Kenya in 2001, then and since feeling the tug of connection to Africa that many seem to but which is difficult to articulate without sounding overly romantic and thus implausible and/or condescending in a way that (most of the time I think) isn't purposeful but reflects a lack of cultural understanding (i.e. smiles don't always signify happiness) and a rather superficial experience of being.in.Africa. I was fortunate enough to travel with a friend who was in Peace Corps there, so while we did the requisite (and magnificent) safaris, we also traveled on buses so packed over roads so riddled with potholes (more like poolholes) that all you could do was go with it and hope. We didn't stay at a remove from really being there, and I can hardly imagine having such an amazing travel experience again. It felt authentic in the ways that the connective tissue that language facility and real knowledge of a place provide.

In any case, I left Africa with a powerful desire to return and also with an almost complete inability to truly describe why I was so besotted with it. It became wholly understandable why accounts of African travel often list towards the idyllic, and since, I have been impressed with writers whose stories of Africa appear balanced. Fuller does this, and Rhodesia during the years she lived there is such an interesting context: wealthy white farmers propped up by the British government on land that's not really theirs, civil war, the country being renamed Zimbabwe, Mugabe coming to power. Fuller's parents loved Africa with a passion (they now live and farm in Zambia), but you also see how much they lost there as well.

I thought the book's last chapter or two weren't as strong as the rest of the book, but nonetheless I quite enjoyed and would recommend it.

The second book was Jeannette Walls' The Glass Castle, which I just finished last night. Wow! More on that next as I'm off to the farmers market now!