I don't rate memoirs.

I don't rate them because I don't feel it's right to a rating to someone's life story. Even still, I highly, highly recommend reading this memoir. It is a glimpse into a world that most people don't have any frame of reference for—hyper-religious doomsday preppers. Westover was able to weave the story of her life, her family, and her education into a tight narrative very masterfully. She doesn't shy away from letting you experience the insane rollercoaster that is her life, but she also doesn't make the people within those experiences one-dimensional or even wholly evil.

She also doesn't try to sell you on these experiences being absolute—she will tell you when she doesn't remember something, or when people in her family disagree with her version of events. I have seen some people that this is duplicitious, but it's here where I can see Westover's inner historian shining through. In the book, she says "Who writes history? I thought. I do." It is obvious she extends this philosophy even to her own life; I find that admirable.

I hated her dad and brother Shawn—although I know I have no right to say that because they aren't my family—but they were still complex people. As much as they protected her, they also abused her in equal measure. It was a painful read. I was so happy when she finally got away from her family and went to university. I have seen some of the antics that her family has gotten up to after she published this, and it only multiples my happiness to know she's away from those freaks (sorry not sorry). 

I know this book has been hyped to the moon and back, but I think it is deserving. I hope that the author continues to thrive in her life.