Currently Reading: The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls (2005)

Now that we are out of our apartment, all packed up, and done with work, I need something to keep my mind occupied.  I found The Glass Castle in the room we are staying at my in-laws house.  I always judge a book by its cover, so if it looks interesting, it usually is.   I picked this Memoir out of a few books laying around, immediately read the back cover, flipped through the first chapter, and since then I’ve been hooked. 

Jeannette Walls grew up homeless with her 3 siblings and parents.  Her father was an alcoholic and mother was a free-spirited artist.  Most of the book tracks her childhood adventures.  Currently, I’m in the chapters during her teen years, where she begins to realize being homeless is not an adventure anymore, but a dangerous and destructive lifestyle.  Her family (especially her siblings) watch out for each other and make the best of any situation.

Here’s an excerpt from the book describing a Christmas evening.  Mom and kids saved up pennies to provide gifts for each other, but the Christmas did not go as planned:

Mom gave Dad one of his presents, a brass cigarette lighter from the nineteen twenties in the shape of a Scottish terrier.  Dad flicked it a couple times, swaying back and forth; then he held it up to the light and studied it.

            “Let’s really light up this Christmas,” Dad said and thrust the lighter into the Douglas fir.  The dried-out needles caught fire immediately.  Flames leaped through the branches with a crackling noise.  Christmas ornaments exploded from the heat.

            For a few moments, were too stunned to do anything.  Mom called for blankets and water.  We were able to put the fire out, but only by knocking down the tree, smashing most of the ornaments and ruining all our presents.  Dad sat on the sofa the whole time, laughing and telling Mom that he was doing her a favor.

            Once the fire was out and the sodden, burned tree lay smoldering on the floor, we all just stood there.  No one tried to wring Dad’s neck or yell at him or even point out that he’d ruined the Christmas his family had spent weeks planning—the Christmas that was supposed to be the best we’d ever had.  When Dad went crazy, we all had our own ways of shutting down and closing off, and that was what we did that night.