Inheritance: A Memoir of Genealogy, Paternity, and Love by Dani Shapiro

Reviewed by Kristin

Genealogy was the first word which caught my eye on the cover of this book.  The background picture is unassuming, a short, aged, ivory dress, such as one which might be worn to a baptism or a bat mitzvah.  Opening the cover, I read that the author, Dani Shapiro, had a big surprise when she decided to have her DNA tested as part of an ancestry kit.  Her unusual blonde hair, blue eyes, and fair complexion had never quite fit in with her dark haired Jewish family, and suddenly those features seemed a lot more significant.  Only about half of her DNA pointed to being Eastern European Ashkenazi, (Jewish,) so what about the other half?

Shapiro made this personally earth-shattering discovery in 2016, in the modern era when DNA testing is rather commonplace, and where the internet is a treasure trove of information if you just know where to look.  Very quickly, Shapiro was able to figure out the bare bones of how she came to be, and even found a YouTube video of the man she suspected was her biological father.  Suddenly, her life was turned upside down.  If the father she had always known was not related to her genetically, how had this come about?

Within a surprisingly short period of time, Shapiro was able to reach out to a man who she had so much in common with and yet had never known.  Treading lightly, she began to explore the possibilities of forging a connection with the man who played a tiny part in her creation, while still holding tight to the family heritage which had encompassed her very being from the moment of her birth.

Shapiro’s parents had both passed away.  Searching for clues in remembered conversations was one way that she tried to understand what her parents had gone through five decades earlier.  A box of papers in the basement provided some clues and also sparked memories of the uneasy relationship she had with her mother over the years.  Seeking peace and answers, Shapiro continued talking to family members and friends.  The discovery brought her closer to some, but created distance with others.

Shapiro has written several other memoirs and works of fiction, often focusing on the intimacy of family relationships.  This memoir explores family identity, larger ethnic distinctiveness, and the human capacity for love.

Flat Broke With Two Goats by Jennifer McGaha

Reviewed by Ambrea 

Jennifer McGaha lived happily in middle class suburbia, her life full of kids, pets, PTA meetings, college funds, sports practice, community dinners, schedules that rarely allowed her to cross paths with her husband—and mounting debts.  When Jennifer finds out that she and her husband owe a substantial amount of back taxes, she’s forced to foreclose on her beloved home and move to a rundown cabin in the woods.

Now, she’s must contend with copperheads lurking beneath her grandmother’s old china cabinet, “ringneck season,” dirty orange shag carpets, a temperamental boiler, and a leaky, drafty old house that makes her clothes smell of mildew.  But as Jennifer and her husband readjust to their drastically altered lives, they discover unexpected joy in their ramshackle cabin, their herd of hilarious barnyard characters, and their growing ability to live—and even thrive—off the land.

I picked up Flat Broke with Two Goats after seeing it on Overdrive and, of course, the Bookblog.  I was a little hesitant at first, but I decided to pick up a copy anyway and give it a try.  Overall, I enjoyed reading about Jennifer McGaha’s foray into homesteading.  McGaha is a very talented writer.  Although I struggled through a few parts of her memoir, I found that her writing—her voice, her humor, her ability to draw me into the story—kept me going, even when the going got tough. 

Her memoir feels very real, very raw, and her story, especially when she looks back into her abusive first marriage, can be a bit painful.  McGaha is very honest, even to the detriment of her own character—though there were a few instances that her panic made the narrative feel “shrill”—but it gives her writing a powerful punch.  I also liked reading the recipes between chapters.  They helped to enhance and enrich McGaha’s story, offering insight into how her cooking changed as she transitioned into her new life.

Additionally, I liked hearing about her grandmother, about the relationship she cultivated with her.  Having lost my grandmother just over two years ago now, I understood intimately how crushing it can be to lose someone so important and how it completely changes the dynamic of a person’s entire life.  Those stories felt particularly powerful for me.

While I did enjoy Flat Broke with Two Goats for the most part, I was constantly frustrated by the McGahas’ ability ignore the warning signs of their own impending financial collapse.  Although the author admits to having her head buried in the sand, I just couldn’t understand how she could willfully ignore the loss of utilities, the strain of extra mortgages, or the repossession of her car—or, you know, the fact that her husband was obviously struggling.  I understand he purposefully kept it from her (and I can understand why, considering she does not does cope well under stress), but she never asked questions, she never tried to dig deeper.

Even after it finally happens, even after their middle class world collapses, they’re still careless with money.  They decide to continue putting their youngest through an expensive private school, rather than letting him go to public school; they are willing to spend $200 plus on a specific breed of goat, rather than adopting one cheaply; they feed their chickens organic yogurt, rather than looking at cheaper food options.  (Does she not even realize how much more expensive “organic” products cost in the store?)

Throughout the memoir, I was painfully aware of a serious disconnect when it came to money.  McGaha worked as an adjunct professor and her husband had—and continued to have—a lucrative career as an accountant.  They had ample opportunity to live within their means, they just didn’t.  They weren’t living in poverty, especially since they obviously had internet access and used cell phones and paid their vet bills; they were just feeling the pinch of living on a much tighter budget, a budget that’s probably more akin to a median income household rather than the upper middle-class from which they came.

Note: Kristin also reviewed this book.  For her take on McGaha's book, click here.

Furiously Happy by Jenny Lawson

Reviewed by Ambrea

Jenny Lawson is known for her wit, her humor, and her candor.  She’s published a best-selling novel (Let’s Pretend This Never Happened, in case you’re curious), and she’s managed to cultivate a loyal following in the blogging world.  However, she has also struggled with mental illness and a slew of anxiety disorders and Furiously Happy is her attempt to express her lifelong battle and, more importantly, create “a hysterical, ridiculous book about crippling depression and anxiety.”  It sounds like a terrible idea, but terrible ideas can sometimes lead to great things as Lawson shows with her latest memoir.

Furiously Happy is uproariously funny, brutally honest, completely candid, and absolutely absurd.  Jenny Lawson has a quirky sense of humor that sometimes borders on vulgar—no, rather she crosses the line on vulgar and waves at you from the other side—but, somehow, the shock value in her stories keeps them interesting.  And her ability to capture an unusual story, a tragic event, or a strange set of circumstances, makes her second book thoroughly hilarious and patently insane.

Lawson has a unique way of telling a story.  She frequently deviates from a set path, skipping merrily along, before she reverts back to the original narrative.  She distracts herself with new stories, but she has ADD (among other disorders) which explains quite a lot—and, I think, tends to make her storytelling interesting.  Her history might be a little fractured by her inability to stay focused, but I think she perfectly conveys herself and her story.  She shows her audience her real self, warts and all, and adequately characterizes her family and friends.  She really brings everyone to life, showing off their unique characteristics and attitudes, and she throws some pretty extraordinary stories into the mix.

Like how her husband bought her a mounted bear head, which is when she learned that he really did love her.  Or how her father stumbled across a stuffed giraffe and discovered a tribe of individuals with a love for ethically-achieved, taxidermied animals, just like Jenny.  Or her strange penchant for hosting midnight cat rodeos with stuffed raccoons.  Or her unusual encounter with a doctor who removed her gallbladder (an experience which, she claims, merely proves she’s turning into a zombie one organ at a time).

I mean, I couldn’t not laugh at the ridiculous, sometimes terrible things that happen to her and the equally terrible ideas that strike her fancy.  While Furiously Happy is sometimes fragmented and, well, just plain weird, it’s a strange, scintillating and comically absurd memoir.  It’s an irreverent romp through mental disorder, family dramas, and horrible things that are inadvertently funny—and it’s sure to garner a laugh or two, if only for Jenny’s mission to remain as furiously happy as humanly possible and live a life of which she’ll be proud.

I’m Perfect, You’re Doomed: Tales from a Jehovah’s Witness Upbringing by Kyria Abrahams

Reviewed by Christy H.

            Equal parts fascinating, amusing, and depressing, Kyria Abrahams reveals what life was like growing up as a Jehovah’s Witness with parents in a dysfunctional and loveless relationship. As a young child she is excited and dedicated to her religion but as she grows older and increasingly unhappier, she finds it harder and harder to stay committed – not only to her faith but to her own ill-advised, unhappy marriage.

            This is an interesting memoir because Abrahams does not try to paint herself in an overly sympathetic light. She is selfish, impulsive, unbelievably immature, and makes bad decision after bad decision seemingly without learning from her mistakes. Still, it’s not that difficult to feel sorry for her. She’s an alcoholic high school drop out with no discernible life skills who married as a teen to someone she didn’t love to get away from her parents. 

Sometimes she cuts herself. She’s never been on a job interview; she’s never even filled out a resume. All the more incentive to stay at her current job even though she works with her estranged father and shares a desk with her soon-to-be ex mother-in-law (who spends her work hours constantly berating Abrahams.) Because she wants a divorce she thinks (and is told) she is going to Hell. She’s in danger of being excommunicated from the only community she’s ever really known. She is only in her early 20s.

            Abrahams is able to find brief moments of solace, however, in poetry and comedy. The book itself has self-awareness and a self-deprecating, head-shaking tone. While it’s never quite laugh out loud funny the humor does help balance, without detracting from, the darkness of her depression and situation.  I enjoyed this memoir quite a bit but I do wish it ended with more closure, although I know life is messy and conflicts don’t wrap themselves up in neat little bows. After spending so much time with Kyria, however, it would’ve been nice to know the steps she took to get healthier and happier – which I’m hoping she did.