Jeannette Walls grew up with parents whose ideals and stubborn
nonconformity were both their curse and their salvation. Rex and
Rose Mary Walls had four children. In the beginning, they lived
like nomads, moving among Southwest desert towns, camping in the
ains. Rex was a charismatic, brilliant man who, when sober,
captured his children's imagination, teaching them physics,
geology, and above all, how to embrace life fearlessly. Rose
Mary, who painted and wrote and couldn't stand the responsibility
of providing for her family, called herself an "excitement
addict." Cooking a meal that would be consumed in fifteen minutes
had no appeal when she could make a painting that might last
forever.
Later, when the money ran out, or the romance of the wandering
life faded, the Walls retreated to the dismal West Virginia
mining town -- and the family -- Rex Walls had done everything he
could to escape. He drank. He stole the grocery money and
disappeared for days. As the dysfunction of the family escalated,
Jeannette and her brother and sisters had to fend for themselves,
supporting one another as they weathered their parents' betrayals
and, finally, found the resources and will to leave home.
What is so astonishing about Jeannette Walls is not just that
she had the guts and tenacity and intelligence to get out, but
that she describes her parents with such deep affection and
generosity. Hers is a story of triumph against all odds, but also
a tender, moving tale of unconditional love in a family that
despite its profound flaws gave her the fiery determination to
carve out a successful life on her own terms.
For two decades, Jeannette Walls hid her roots. Now she tells
her own story. A regular contributor to MSNBC.com, she lives in
New York and Long Island and is married to the writer John
Taylor.
An exclusive Q&A with Jeannette Walls, author of The Glass
Castle
Q: How long did it take you to write The Glass Castle and what
was that process like?
A: Writing about myself, and about intensely personal and
potentially embarrassing experiences, was unlike anything I’d
done before. Over the last 25 years, I wrote many versions of
this memoir -- sometimes pounding out 220 pages in a single
weekend. But I always threw out the pages. At one point I tried
to fictionalize it, but that didn't work either.
When I was finally ready, I wrote it entirely on the weekends,
getting to my desk by 7:30 or 8:00 a.m. and continuing until 6:00
or 7:00 p.m. I wrote the first draft in about six weeks -- but
then I spent three or four years rewriting it. My husband, John
Taylor, who is also a writer, observed all this approvingly and
quoted John Fowles, who said that a book should be like a child:
conceived in passion and reared with care.
Q: How did you decide to follow The Glass Castle with Half Broke
Horses?
A: It was completely at the suggestion of readers. So many
people kept saying the next book should be about my mother.
Readers understood my her's recklessness because they
understood alcoholism, but Mom was a mystery to them. Why, they
would ask, would someone with the resources to lead a normal life
choose the existence that she did?
I would tell them a little bit about my mother’s childhood. She
not only knew that she could survive without indoor plumbing, but
that was the ideal period of her life, a time that she tries to
recreate. I think that for memoir readers, it's not about a freak
show– they’re just looking to understand people and get into a
life that’s not their own. I thought, let me give it a , let
me ask Mom. And she was all for it. But she kept insisting that
the book should really be about her mother. At first I resisted
because my grandmother, Lily Casey Smith, died when I was eight
years old, more than 40 years ago. But I have a very vivid memory
of this tough, leathery woman; she sang, she danced, she
s, she’d play honky tonk piano. I was always captivated by
her. Lily had told such compelling stories—I was stunned by the
number of anecdotes, and that Mom knew so much detail about them.
Half Broke Horses is a compilation of family stories, stitched
together with gaps filled in. They're the sort of tales that
pretty much everyone has heard from their parents or
grandparents. I realized that in telling Lily's story, I could
also explain Mom's.
Q: Why did you decide to write Half Broke Horses in the first
person, and how much of this "true-life novel" is fiction?
A: I set out to write a biography of Lily, but sometimes books
take on a life of their own. I told it in first person because I
wanted to capture Lily’s voice. I’m a lot like my grandmother, so
it came easily to me. I planned to go back and change it from
first person to third person and put in qualifiers so the book
would be historically accurate, but when I showed it to my agent
and publisher, they both said to leave it as it is. By doing
that, I crossed the line from nonfiction into fiction. But when I
call it fiction it’s not because I tarted it up and tried to
embellish things, but wanted to make it more readable, fluid, and
immediate. I was trying to get as close to the truth as I could.
Q: How has your relationship with your mother changed in recent
years?
A: Several years ago, the abandoned building on New York’s Lower
East Side where Mom had been squatting for more than a decade
caught fire and she was back on the streets again at age 72. I
begged her to come live with me. She said Virginia was too
boring, and besides, she's not a freeloader. I told her we could
really use help with the horses, and she said she'd be right
there. I get along great with Mom now. She's a hoot. She's always
upbeat, and has a very different take on life than most people.
She's a lot of fun to be around -- as long as you're not looking
for her to take care of you. She doesn’t live in the house with
us-- I have not reached that level of understanding and
compassion-- but in an outbuilding about a hundred yards away.
Mom is great with the animals, loves to sing and dance and ride
horses, and is still painting like a fiend.
Q: What do you hope readers will gain from reading your books?
A:Since writing The Glass Castle, so many people have said to
me, "Oh, you’re so strong and you’re so resilient, and I couldn’t
do what you did." That’s very flattering, but it’s nonsense. Of
course they’re as strong as I am. I just had the great fortune of
having been tested. If we look at our ancestry, we all come from
tough roots. And one of the ways to discover our toughness and
our resiliency is to look back at where we come from. I hope
people who read The Glass Castle and Half Broke Horses will come
away with that. You know, "Gosh, I come from hearty stock. Maybe
I’m tougher than I realize."