The narrative reads more like a serious of occasions that create a life, less like a series of events that create a complication.
Maybe as children we do not see the complications that impact our life. The drunk father, the lack of money, the fights with neighborhood ruffians - that is Just the Way Life Is. Even as adults reflecting back, do we, should we, break apart and dissect our childhood? The why did this happen? And how did it come to this point? Or should we just accept our childhood experiences at face value - this is what happened, this is who was there, this is what she did, he did, I did.
Jeannette Walls presents her childhood at face value - this is what happened, this is who was there. She does not reflect on the why, the cause and effect, the ramifications of her childhood. Just on What Was.
Her memoir reads as a series of vignettes. While the vignettes flow chronologically, they stand alone, enjoyable on their own merits. I can skip from her childhood in Arizona to her life in New York, and still enjoy the lyrical flow of her words and the comfortable rhythm of her storytelling. Read out of order, her story is not lost. It reads like a new friend, telling me about their life in piece mail. Recounting childhood memories as she remembers them. I do not need to know that this event lead to that event. I already know the finished product - I am reading the resolution.
