Autobiographies can be difficult – certainly, I imagine, to write – but no matter how interesting or profound the life of the author, reading one can quickly become a bore (or worse) if the tone is off or if the voice is unlikable. Mary Karr, a poet as well as a charming spit-fire of a lady, possesses a most inviting but sharp voice and has transformed her fairly gritty childhood into an intriguing yarn with colorful language and a powerful attitude.
In the company of her dramatic and profoundly unstable mother and whiskey-toting father, Karr traveled from the bleakest corners of Texas to the mountains of Colorado – from the joys of her father's storytelling to looking down a barrel of her mother's gun. It's a roller-coaster ride of an adolescence that makes you wonder how children can endure so much sometimes.
Karr endured (thankfully) and she went on to create this engrossing account of it all.