I was moved from sympathy to bewilderment from aching heart to discombobulation. A child who describes her early abusive years in the polygamous community is the core of the story. No one deserves that kind of treatment – years of emotional and physical abuse, displacement, hunger, depravity, and lack of any emotional support or love is the horrendous picture of childhood.
I will stop here. This plight is for no one, and no one should endure it. Period.
The book per se is below mediocre. I kept comparing it to a book written by her cousin, Ruth Wariner, The Sound of Gravel, and the one that is currently being reviewed paled in comparison. Ms Wariner’s book is full of breathing characters and vivid, palpable memories, light and tragedy, compassion and memorable recollections. Everything that is in listed in the previous sentence is saliently absent in the Polygamist’s Daughter. The characters are skeletal and two-dimensional, the writing is pedestrian, and it is with the help of the co-author, and the second part of the book, in my case, only provoked me to roll my eyes with every sentence.
I am the only one to blame for the choice of the book. If I had done some research before I selected the book, I would have learned that it was published by Tyndale Publishing House that is known for publishing right-wing conservative authors. Knowing that, I would have not wasted time on this memoir, but alas, I paid for my intellectual laziness.
I could not take any sentence without a smirk about her spiritual redemption and simple and very simplistic spiritual transformation. As the author explains, she found Jesus as her father in the absence of her real father, who was, to tell the truth, a HORRENDOUS person, but sometimes I wish she had attended the therapeutic sessions led by Freud and Jung.
I watched a couple of videos featuring the author, and she sounds like a born-again, Bible thumping, white evangelical. Really? Out of the frying pan into the fire. Call me judgmental …