Tara Westover, Educated
I just finished the last 150 pages of Westover's memoir, pinned to my chair, across from my husband at an outdoor cafe, the first cafe we have been able to visit since March 16. By no coincidence, the cafe has special meaning for us. We ride our town bikes there as often as possible, usually to hear live music, read and write. While music is still not allowed, our cups were filled this morning.
Westover's portrayal of her survivalist family, by turns flinching and unflinching, is a captivating journey of resilience, forgiveness and acceptance. (Not mutually exclusive, all comprehensively complicated.) Of the traumatized Self, before and after.
As much as I loved and devoured this book (my half-sister, whom I found when I was 29, is Mormon and had four children in five years), I can't wait for the movie.
I know I'm late to the party on this one, but if you haven't picked it up, do yourself the favor.