Completed November 2022
I'M GLAD MY MOM DIED
It feels strange writing about a memoir. Usually I can indulge in whichever feelings I like, safe in the knowledge that it really doesn't matter – it's just fiction, after all. But this was different, because I was shook not only by the poetry of McCurdy's narration but due to the fact her experience wasn't imaginary. I feel guilty of how much I gained from this book, as I'd much rather it hadn't been written, if it meant she never had to experience such a childhood at all.
Speaking of the narration, I don't think I've ever read anything like it, in particular throughout the early sections of the book. Usually writing from a child's perspective goes one of two ways – either oversimplification that feels honest but lacking nuance, or a more complex portrayal which has depth but is hard to believe in. I'm Glad My Mom Died fell into neither category. McCurdy's narrative voice encapsulated her experiences as a child as she understood them at the time, but with an omnipresent sense of wisdom and perspective too. I felt like I could see her memories unfold as both her child and adult self at once. This is such a difficult balance to strike but one which was executed fantastically. Hence the emotional ravaging.
This book truly pulled no punches. It was brutally honest throughout, especially in how McCurdy portrayed her own thoughts and feelings. There were no attempts to gloss over, or to present herself in an unfairly positive light. She made plenty of decisions she wasn't proud of, which she shared with us – acknowledging her failings unapologetically.
Nor was she afraid to share views which were controversial. Of course I have to acknowledge the title, a real bomb set off in only five words. If this seems an impossible statement to ever understand, then let me assure you, it's not. Over the course of the memoir we are submerged in the distorted reality that McCurdy finds herself growing up in – one which is intentionally twisted by her mother with the explicit goal of manipulation and control. As the reader we know that the things she is taught are normal are not, but also it's perfectly clear why she never questions them. One section which will stay with me is when she explains to her therapist that she was introduced to calorie restriction at age 11, with such utter nonchalance as if this was something obviously for her benefit. The tension in the room is gut-wrenching – we know exactly what her therapist is thinking, and so does McCurdy in hindsight. But of course, she didn't then. She thought this was something that all parents should do.
It's easy therefore to reduce her mother to a villain. And truly some of her actions were truly evil, enough so that I understood why McCurdy (eventually) felt relieved by her passing. But there was nuance here too, especially in the moments when we witness her mom suffering – cancer is a bitch, and one which can warp individuals beyond recognition. It's awkward to watch how she uses her illness for leverage, but then who are we to judge? Just how hard did it get for her?
McCurdy is courageous in challenging the requirement of society to respect our parents. There is often an unspoken expectation that we owe them for our existence. That even though they bear responsibility for us, so do we for them, whether or not we asked for it. For most of the book, this fact is the main motivator of her life – every decision she makes is to further her mom's goals. And we see this, bit by bit, tear her apart. This is why the most powerful part of the book for me is when McCurdy finally rejects her mother, after decades in servitude to her and years further consumed by grief.
I listened to the audiobook of I'm Glad My Mom Died, a decision I'm glad of as hearing the story in the author's own voice really added to the authenticity. There were moments when her voice faltered. It was clear just how much these words meant to her, and it was impossible not to experience this visceral pain alongside her.
I'm starting to think I have a masochistic side, as my god, am I grateful for this book.
“My mom didn't get better. But I will.”