Lately, I’ve been reading books like crazy. I feel like I’m on a book reading marathon. A very, eclectic, book marathon. I went over the books I read recently in my head and I laughed at how very different they all were. Some romance, historical fiction, memoirs, biography… I’m very spontaneous, I guess.
I just finished a memoir by Christina McDowell (Prousalis), called After Perfect. It’s about a very wealthy family who loses everything due to their lawyer father’s big-time, white-collar crime he commits during the Wall Street implosion. It starts off good and interesting. She talks about the struggles she has from going to the 1% of privileged upper class to being homeless across the country, depressed and looking to be accepted somewhere. She succumbs to drugs, sex and alcohol and holds onto the hope that her father will return to save her after his prison sentence. She hangs onto her belief that he is innocent and that her normal life will resume when he comes back for her but continues to go through a downward spiral with horrible habits and hardly tries to help herself.
At first I was really interested and kept turning the pages and was loving it. And then about half way though it just got to be very repetitive and got kind of boring and was getting annoyed by her. I just wanted to scream, “get your sh*t together!!!!” I started losing interest and by the time I got to the last chapter, she seemed to just sum everything up to happily ever after and left it at that.
Was it terrible? No, not terrible. I finished it after all. Was it my favorite? Not by a longshot. I enjoyed the realness and the courage it took for her to write this and to come to the conclusion about the man her father was after years of thinking he was someone else. It couldn’t have been easy going from extreme to the other. But I wouldn’t say it’s the best book I’ve ever read. I enjoyed Carole Radziwell’s memoir, What Remains, a whoooole lot better if you’re looking for an interesting, raw, memoir.