Book Review: I’m Glad My Mom Died by Jennette McCurdy

Jennette McCurdy’s memoir I’m Glad My Mom Died is my first completed audiobook. I’ve never been drawn to that reading format, as I prefer to visually see the words on a physical copy and perhaps annotate it up the wazoo. But this memoir is perfectly suited for an audiobook. I did miss annotating it, since now I don’t have notes to revisit, and I feel like the story isn’t as ingrained in my brain as it would have been had I visually read the words, but it was a more special experience learning about her story through her own voice. 

I honestly don’t feel like I can fully critique the writing style since I didn’t physically read it, but I can critique McCurdy’s delivery. Through her voice, the writing didn’t feel overly laborious, but more conversational while not drifting into the overly informal or void of craft. She maintained an honest, direct, and transparent approach that well suited the heartbreaking story, breaking up the sad with a healthy dose of sarcasm that provided much-needed humor. While speaking, McCurdy imitated her mother and grandmother very well so the intent behind the dialogue wasn’t lost, and she adopted Miranda Cosgrove’s voice perfectly. Imitating the men in her life sounded a bit less seamless, but that was easy to forgive. You could hear the emotion in her voice as she read about the first time therapy made her confront the idea of her mother as an abuser. I highly recommend listening to this memoir through the audiobook, which is something I never thought I would say.

The title of the memoir is a bit of a shock, and some might say it’s brutal, but the book isn’t a mindless, immature, hate-filled bashing of her mother. It’s a mature look at her journey from self-denial to self-discovery, realizing that her entire life was lived for her mother and that she could only heal once her mom had died and couldn’t wield control over her anymore. She loved her mom throughout the verbal, emotional, and sexual abuse, and while she grew up to fully understand the abuse her mother inflicted upon her, she still misses the good moments. McCurdy perfectly illustrated the complexity of an abusive relationship, and she honestly portrayed her own internal monologue and struggles with a self-awareness that is laudable.

There were many aspects of McCurdy’s story that surprised me, but Chapter 76 brought one of the only twists in literature that truly shocked me. My jaw actually dropped. One would think real life would be less unpredictable than fiction. If McCurdy’s story was actually a fictionalized account that someone completely made up, I would think the author was doing too much in that chapter, making it too unrealistic, piling up too many sad events in one person’s life. But no, that was McCurdy’s real life. I commend her bravery in writing this book and in her journey to self-awareness through therapy.

One thing I will say is that since I don’t naturally gravitate towards audiobooks, I listened to this off and on over the course of three months, which makes the story feel disconnected and fragmented in my mind. Though I’m glad I listened to this as an audiobook on my first read to hear McCurdy’s voice and emotion, I think I might pick up the physical copy and read it again that way to solidify the story and fully appreciate the nuances.