Educated

I read Educated by Tara Westover for the month of September and let me tell you, it was a whirlwind of a read. 

The things that Westover experienced and had to endure is unimaginable – the constant battle between bringing pride to her family and living for herself was draining and unhealthy. I felt as though I had to be making these decisions with Westover, which was difficult because I would want to choose the western ideals of going to the hospital, whereas Westover would choose her mother’s herbs and essential oils. 

I keep having to remind myself that this is a real person, checking the cover to ingrain the picture of Westover in my brain so that I know these things happened and are happening to people around the globe. 

As for the writing style, I felt that at points Westover’s story outweighed her writing prowess. The memoir went in an order that helped make sense of her life and piece things together in chronological order, but at some points I felt that she discredited herself as an author. I understand that the entire point was revealed at the end when she explained how she doubted herself and the smallest details in the room due to her neglected domestic abuse claims; however, I also feel that it was humble and vulnerable to gloss over the fact that she made it into Cambridge, Harvard, and had a PhD because she did not think it was an accomplishment. She did not think she fit into this society where people washed their hands every time they went to the bathroom. 

The insecurity in this novel was real and apparent. So many decisions, indecisions, and lapses of doubt helped create the trapped environment that Westover endured her entire childhood. If you decide to read this book– I rated it a three out of five– be prepared to be moved emotionally and feel a pit in your heart thinking about how Westover loses her family in a span of long, difficult, and heart-wrenching decades.

p.s. just because I don’t know where to add this in my blog, I am adding one line from her book that stood out to me: “It pierced the inside of my leg, an inch below my knee, sliding into the tissue like a knife into warm butter,” (Westover 64). The simile with the temperature of the butter paints this vivid picture in my head and explains the situation with accuracy and clarity that any reader can imagine.