The Glass Castle is a memoir by Jeannette Walls that recounts her unconventional and often tumultuous childhood. Growing up in a dysfunctional family with eccentric parents, Walls shares her experiences of poverty, resilience, and the complexities of familial love. The narrative explores themes of survival, forgiveness, and the impact of parental choices on children's lives. Readers will find a vivid portrayal of Walls' journey from a chaotic upbringing to a successful career as a journalist. This memoir is ideal for those interested in personal stories of overcoming adversity and the intricacies of family dynamics.

Key Points

  • Explores Jeannette Walls' childhood in a dysfunctional family
  • Details the impact of poverty and resilience on personal growth
  • Examines complex relationships with her parents, Rex and Rose Mary Walls
  • Highlights themes of survival, forgiveness, and self-discovery
newtopiccyclegrowin
Author:Jeannette Walls
215 pages
Language:English
Type:Short Story
Literature
newtopiccyclegrowin
Author:Jeannette Walls
215 pages
Language:English
Type:Short Story
Literature
221
/ 215
I
AWOMANONTHESTREET
I WAS SITTING IN a taxi, wondering if I had overdressed for the
evening, when I looked out the window and saw Mom rooting through a
Dumpster.Itwasjustafterdark.AblusteryMarchwindwhippedthesteam
coming out of the manholes, and people hurried along the sidewalks with
theircollarsturnedup.IwasstuckintraffictwoblocksfromthepartywhereI
washeading.
Momstoodfifteenfeet away.Shehadtiedrags aroundhershoulders to
keepoutthespringchillandwaspickingthroughthetrashwhileherdog,a
black-and-white terrier mix, played at her feet. Mom's gestures were all
familiarthewayshetiltedherheadandthrustoutherlowerlipwhenstudying
itemsof potentialvaluethat she'd hoisted out oftheDumpster, the way her
eyes widened with childish glee when she found something she liked. Her
longhairwasstreakedwithgray,tangledandmatted,andhereyeshadsunk
deepintotheirsockets,butstillsheremindedmeofthemomshe'dbeenwhen
I was a kid, swan-diving off cliffs and painting in the desert and reading
Shakespeare aloud. Her cheekbones were still high and strong, but the skin
was parched and ruddy from all those wintersand summers exposedto the
elements. To the people walking by, she probably looked like any of the
thousandsofhomelesspeopleinNewYorkCity.
IthadbeenmonthssinceIlaideyesonMom,andwhenshelookedup,I
wasovercome withpanic that she'd see meand callout my name,and that
someone on the way to the same party would spot us together and Mom
wouldintroduceherselfandmysecretwouldbeout.
Islid downin theseat and asked the driver to turnaround andtake me
hometoParkAvenue.
Thetaxipulledupinfrontofmybuilding,thedoormanheldthedoorfor
me,andtheelevatormantookmeuptomyfloor.Myhusbandwasworking
late,ashedidmostnights,andtheapartmentwassilentexceptfortheclickof
myheelsonthepolishedwoodfloor.IwasstillrattledfromseeingMom,the
unexpectednessofcomingacrossher,thesightofherrootinghappilythrough
theDumpster.IputsomeVivaldion,hopingthemusicwouldsettlemedown.
Ilookedaroundtheroom.Thereweretheturn-of-the-centurybronze-and-
silvervases and theold bookswith wornleather spinesthatI'd collectedat
fleamarkets.ThereweretheGeorgianmapsI'dhadframed,thePersianrugs,
andtheoverstuffedleatherarmchairIlikedtosinkintoattheendoftheday.
I'dtriedtomakeahomeformyselfhere,triedtoturntheapartmentintothe
sortofplacewherethepersonIwantedtobewouldlive.ButIcouldnever
enjoytheroomwithoutworryingaboutMomandDadhuddledonasidewalk
gratesomewhere.Ifrettedaboutthem,butIwasembarrassedbythem,too,
andashamedofmyselfforwearingpearlsandlivingonParkAvenuewhile
myparentswerebusykeepingwarmandfindingsomethingtoeat.
Whatcould I do?I'd tried to help themcountless times, but Dad would
insisttheydidn'tneedanything,andMomwouldaskforsomethingsilly,like
a perfume atomizer or a membership in a health club. They said that they
werelivingthewaytheywantedto.
After ducking down in the taxi so Mom wouldn't see me, I hated
myselfhated my antiques, my clothes, and my apartment. I had to do
something,soIcalledafriendofMom'sandleftamessage.Itwasoursystem
ofstaying in touch.It always tookMom a fewdays to getback to me,but
whenIheardfromher,shesounded,asalways,cheerfulandcasual,asthough
we'dhadlunchthedaybefore.ItoldherIwantedtoseeherandsuggested
she drop by the apartment, but she wanted to go to a restaurant. She loved
eatingout,soweagreedtomeetforlunchatherfavoriteChineserestaurant.
Mom was sitting at a booth, studying the menu, when I arrived. She'd
madeanefforttofixherselfup.Sheworeabulkygraysweaterwithonlya
fewlightstains,andblackleathermen'sshoes.She'dwashedherface,buther
neckandtempleswerestilldarkwithgrime.
She waved enthusiastically when she saw me. "It's my baby girl!" she
calledout.Ikissedhercheek.Momhaddumpedalltheplasticpacketsofsoy
sauceandducksauceandhot-and-spicymustardfromthetableintoherpurse.
Now she emptied a wooden bowl of dried noodles into it as well. "A little
snackforlateron,"sheexplained.
Weordered.MomchosetheSeafoodDelight."YouknowhowIlovemy
seafood,"shesaid.
ShestartedtalkingaboutPicasso.She'dseenaretrospectiveofhiswork
anddecidedhewashugelyoverrated.Allthecubiststuffwasgimmicky,as
farasshewasconcerned.Hehadn'treallydoneanythingworthwhileafterhis
RosePeriod.
"I'mworriedaboutyou,"Isaid."TellmewhatIcandotohelp."
Hersmilefaded."WhatmakesyouthinkIneedyourhelp?"
"I'm not rich," I said. "But I have some money. Tell me what it is you
need."
Shethoughtforamoment."Icoulduseanelectrolysistreatment."
"Beserious."
"Iamserious.Ifawomanlooksgood,shefeelsgood."
"Come on, Mom." I felt my shoulders tightening up, the way they
invariablydidduring theseconversations. "I'mtalkingabout somethingthat
/ 215
End of Document
221

You May Also Like

FAQs

What is the significance of the dumpster scene in The Glass Castle?
The dumpster scene is significant as it highlights the stark contrast between the narrator's current life and her mother's circumstances. The narrator sees her mother rummaging through trash, which evokes feelings of panic and embarrassment. This moment reflects the ongoing tension between the narrator's desire to distance herself from her past and her deep-rooted concern for her parents, showcasing the complexities of familial relationships and societal perceptions of poverty.
How does the narrator feel about her mother's lifestyle choices?
The narrator expresses a mix of embarrassment and concern regarding her mother's lifestyle choices. She feels ashamed to be associated with her mother, who is seen picking through trash, while also worrying about her well-being. This internal conflict illustrates the narrator's struggle to reconcile her love for her mother with the societal stigma attached to their family's poverty.
What does the narrator's apartment symbolize in the story?
The narrator's apartment symbolizes her attempts to create a new identity and life separate from her past. Despite the beautiful decor and antiques she has collected, she feels a persistent sense of unease and guilt about her parents living on the streets. This juxtaposition highlights her struggle to find peace within her new life while being haunted by her family's struggles.
How does the narrator's mother respond to her offers of help?
The narrator's mother responds dismissively to her offers of help, insisting that she does not need assistance. When the narrator suggests practical help, her mother instead requests something trivial, like an electrolysis treatment. This response emphasizes her mother's pride and refusal to acknowledge the seriousness of her situation, reinforcing the theme of independence versus dependence in their relationship.
What does the narrator's childhood memory of the fire reveal about her family dynamics?
The childhood memory of the fire reveals the chaotic and dangerous environment in which the narrator was raised. It illustrates her mother's calmness in a crisis, contrasting with the narrator's fear and vulnerability. This incident highlights the lack of safety and the unconventional parenting style that characterized her upbringing, emphasizing the themes of resilience and survival within their family.
How does the narrator's perception of her parents change throughout the story?
Throughout the story, the narrator's perception of her parents evolves from embarrassment and shame to a more nuanced understanding of their choices and struggles. Initially, she feels the need to hide her family's poverty, but as she reflects on her upbringing, she begins to recognize the complexities of her parents' lives and their unconventional values. This shift illustrates her journey towards acceptance and understanding.
What role does food play in the interactions between the narrator and her mother?
Food plays a significant role in the interactions between the narrator and her mother, serving as a symbol of care and connection. During their lunch at a Chinese restaurant, the mother eagerly collects sauces and food for later, highlighting her resourcefulness and survival instincts. The discussions around food also reveal the differences in their lifestyles and values, as the narrator grapples with her mother's unconventional behavior.

Related