... a detailed look at a very specific and individual childhood of horrors, but it also points to a major systemic problem. I’m Glad My Mom Died doubles as a damning indictment of the child star system ... she paints a vivid picture of child stardom as a system in which children find themselves turned into walking piles of other people’s cash, and summarily dismantled when they lose their value. It’s damning both for the horrors she experienced as an individual and the systemic failures to which her story points.
This will not be a flippant exposé of childhood stardom, nor an angry diatribe directed at an abuser. This complexity is what makes I’m Glad My Mom Died feel real. It’s also why it had to be a memoir ... When McCurdy draws on her child voice, the reader instinctively takes the position of the discerning adult to see both the wrongness of the situation and the flawed, desperate love young McCurdy has for her mother. That complicated truth—of having adored and feared someone, of missing them and being relieved that they’re gone—deserves the more than 310 pages McCurdy takes ... McCurdy takes her time to remember difficult and complex moments of her life, staying true to her younger self while ultimately trying to come to terms with who she is as an independent adult. It’s a triumph of the confessional genre.
... a heart-wrenching but honest account of living with an eating disorder ... a revelatory memoir by a dynamic young artist who is using her pain and experiences to forge a new identity. It’s also a book that speaks to countless victims of child abuse, including myself, giving us language to describe our experiences and further validation of those complicated feelings.
There’s more humour, pathos, and anger on the cover of I’m Glad My Mom Died than most books manage on their insides. Luckily, however, for people who like reviews a little longer than the above, I’m Glad My Mom Died remains just as funny, sad, and angry, once opened ... many aspects of this book are harrowing, and all the more powerful for being rendered in a present tense that places you firmly in her child’s eye view for much of the book’s length ... The grateful innocence of this perspective makes for moments of searing poignancy ... The book is made both more and less bearable by the neatly understated humour of McCurdy’s writing. Her short, crisp chapters have a zinging economy of language, whether in the painfully astute self-observation of her narration, or her dialogue, which has the zip and swing of sitcom writing at its most polished. Since she worked her entire childhood on sitcoms, this makes sense, and sets up a jarringly rewarding tension between events and their descriptions. At one point, I noted the dagger-sharp arguments between McCurdy’s parents were so darkly comic and brilliantly paced, they could be cut straight from an episode of Malcolm In The Middle, only to turn the page and read her account of booking an audition for that very show ... a startlingly impressive, assured and funny memoir. For that, if nothing else, its writer has every right to be glad.
This is a brutally frank, no-holds-barred memoir that answers a lot of questions about why so many child stars end up miserable, broke or dead. McCurdy's hard-won victory over her demons will leave many readers exhausted, but her excellent writing will compel them to stay with her on her torturous journey.
[McCurdy's] stunning debut offers fierce honesty, empathy for those that contributed to her grief, and insights into the hard-fought attachments and detachments of growing older.
While this is a grim tale of a lost childhood, not unlike stories of other child actors, McCurdy is a good writer and her compelling story is not without dark humor ... For those who enjoy candid celebrity memoirs and stories about overcoming the odds.
... explosive ... McCurdy’s recovery is hard-won and messy, and eventually leads her to step back from acting to pursue writing and directing. Despite the provocative title, McCurdy shows remarkable sympathy for her mother, even when she recalls discovering that the man she called Dad while growing up was not, in fact, her biological father. Insightful and incisive, heartbreaking and raw, McCurdy’s narrative reveals a strong woman who triumphs over unimaginable pressure to emerge whole on the other side. Fans will be rapt.
Throughout the book, she honestly portrays Debra’s cruel perfectionist personality and abusive behavior patterns, showing a woman who could get enraged by everything from crooked eyeliner to spilled milk. At the same time, McCurdy exhibits compassion for her deeply flawed mother ... The heartbreaking story of an emotionally battered child delivered with captivating candor and grace.
