Interesting subject, mid execution. Many of these memoirs people write about their family and history suffer from one huge problem that I hate to say because it makes me sounds like an ass, but truthfully, I care less about your family than you do. Interesting tidbits and things I would find fascinating about my own family are not of huge interest to me when it's another family. (Not by lacking empathy, but in the sense that one of my ancestors being a single woman living alone in a homesteading shack in Montana and refusing to modernize is probably more of interest to me than to you.) Often this book just packs in details which just sort of confuse me as a reader, especially with the very large cast of characters who utilize different names, and the panels were laid out in a way that didn't flow particularly well. 

This book shines best in the final 'act' as it were, the reflections on the author and how their story is "not unique, just specific". That I enjoyed and found impactful. Just a lot of stuff lost in the sauce on this one. Art style also wasn't really for me, reminded me a lot of Bechdel but with a bit less humor and character distinction.