Haunting Book for Any Parent
925624
I read this book back in March 2012, and 9 months later I still find myself thinking about it from time to time, wondering what I would do as a parent.

I think that my first instinct, as any parent's, would be to deny that my child would commit any crime and defend him/her to the fullest extent possible. Then, as this story unfolds, I found myself questioning my judgment, and asking myself exactly what I would do. As horrible as it sounds to those who have read it, I almost feel that my life would follow exactly that of Jacob's mother.

You have to read this book.
3217460
This book is moving, informative, and scary.  It brings back memories and produces premonitions.  I don't know who I felt worse for: The author or her parents.  In preparation for the next two decades or so, my kids will be gifted a copy of this volume.  Jack
723619
To me, this was a terribly disturbing book. Working closely with the psychiatric field, I see Jeannette Walls' book as a classic example of two very disturbed individuals whose intellectual brilliance did not excuse the egregious neglect of their children. I am amazed that the author talks about these emotionally abusive parents, particularly the mother, with a kind of serene detachment.

At first I was infuriated by the father's drinking and alcohol-induced reveries of a by-and-bye that never came, but at least he had emotions. It was the mother's total disregard for her children that sent me into apoplectic fits. In a recent interview the author forgives her mother's hoarding and surreptitously eating chocolate, withholding the only food in the house from her starving children, as the helpless antics of woman who never grew up. I saw it as a consummately selfish act. I would not excuse this selfish behavior in my own young children, much less condone it in a grown woman. Regardless of what the author says, I think the mother knew what she was doing, and this is what infuriates me.

Moreover, not only did she continually endanger her children by leaving them to their own devices, I would even venture to say that she had a hand in the death of the author's sister, Mary Charlene, which the mother cavalierly dismisses as "crib death." Since the research that made crib death a household word was done by a doctor whose subject was later convicted of suffocating nine of her children, I would say the ubiquitous crib death diagnosis could have been used to hide a much darker secret.

In any case, I see Rose Mary Walls' lack of emotion and empathy as a serious personality disorder. Perhaps the story might have gone differently if someone had been able to diagnose her condition and offered therapy. Realistically, though, I think she would have refused it, as she continually refused help from her grown and successful kids.

While the story of this family is initially fascinating, I could barely finish it because it was so monotonal. "Oh, boy," I'd think, turning the page to another chapter. "Here they go sliding into another disaster." Same story, different setting. Chapter after chapter bludgeoned me with its enormous miseries and failures.

During the process of coming to terms with the aftermath of growing up in this family the author surely must have gone through some intense anger. I wish she would have put some of it into the book. I don't mean Mommie Dearest-like diatribes, but some healthy transformative anger that lays the groundwork for redemption. There are hints of this anger, but nothing to suggest the justifiable outrage she must surely have felt towards these damaged parents.

In the end, I get the impression that the author, despite the awesome descriptions of the family's destitution, skimmed through these troughs in her life, emerging whole and successful at journey's end. There is an undefineable abstraction to the story, and perhaps it is this detachment that I find upsetting. It is this that makes this otherwise brilliant memoir read like a broken record. Yes, the kids escaped and made a life for themselves, but these chapters also read like the first ones. Recitation of facts. I realize that Jeannette Wells took a huge risk in writing this memior, but my opinion is that she didn't go far enough.

We saw her life, but we didn't see her heart.
3548246
My 8-year-old daughter could probably handle this book's macabre nature, but I think I'll encourage her to wait a few years. She'll get more from it then anyway.
I was wary of it being too unbelievable, but instead I have been swayed into believing in ghosts--or at least wanting to believe! As a mother, I felt this coming-of-age novel to be honest to the vagaries and emotions that come with the unavoidable act of growing up. It was with a tear and a smile that I closed the book.
It's going on my children's classics shelf.
2655696
Reading this book is a gutting experience. Paul Tremblay has based his latest book on what  is perhaps any parents greatest fear: the loss of a child.  Elizabeth Sanderson wakes one night to find her teenage son, Tommy, missing. His friends say he just wandered off in the woods and no one can find him. Its as though he has just disappeared. Elizabeth comes to believe that his ghost is visiting her and leaving messages and there are rumors of a dark figure peering in peoples windows which corresponds to an old myth about the devil who inhabits the woods where he disappeared. But just like Tremblays novel A Headful of Ghosts, the true horror isn't the supernatural but what people are capable of and how a family can too easily come unraveled. As the police detective thinks at one point (Im paraphrasing): people tend to make surprisingly bad decisions and do so with surprising ease. This is no shockfest horror novel but a disturbing portrait of loss. I found this book hard to put down, I was so ensnared by its suspense. By not overplaying the supernatural, it made the events incredibly and terrifyingly possible.
If I had to complain about anything, it would be that a few of the characters that the narrator follows closely are ignored at the end and we don't get a glimpse of how they have been affected by the events. But that quibble aside, I highly recommend this book to anyone who likes horror that makes them think.
2621032
If you are the parent of a child with special needs or you know someone who is, I recommend getting this book. I almost cried at every page because it spoke so deeply to me and my spiritual struggles as a special needs parent and as a Christian. This is the book I really wished was available when our son was first diagnosed, but this is also the book I still need now eight years later because the grief still comes and goes. The author, Diane Kim, has been able to put into the words many of the feelings that have been difficult and scary for me to articulate and admit. I feel like finally there is someone who understands the anger, the disappointment, the sorrow, the fears, and the loneliness; and Ms. Kim is able to mix all that with also the hilarity and absurdity that come from special needs parenting. The verses, written prayer and introspective questions make it great for both a shared bible study with other special needs families and a personal devotional guide, which is the way I plan on using it. I have no time or energy and honestly sometimes almost no desire to read these days, but I couldn't put this book down. Now having read the book once, I am eager to go back and really delve deeper into each chapter and to talk about it with others. Every page, there was something highly quotable and relatable for me. Reading this book has helped to renew spiritual hope in me which has substantially waned with all the emotional and mental exhaustion from caring for my special needs child. Thus I have bought several copies of this book for special needs moms I know as an early Mother's Day gift. I also plan to buy some more for the pastoral staff at our church because I think the book provides invaluable insight into the struggles of special needs families and it's important for the pastoral care team to understand the needs of their congregation.
1710719
Reconstructing Amelia is a story about a mother's worst nightmare. Not only does the mother, Kate, feel guilty because she's a high powered lawyer and works a 60 hour work week, but she's a single mom and loves her child fiercely.
When she's called to the private school to collect her fifteen year old honor student for cheating, Kate arrives too late.
The reconstruction of what happened that day through emails, conversations, texts and clues found in Amelia's bedroom is horrifying. As Kate pieces together the clues and Amelia's secret life is revealed, subplots swirl into the vortex to bring us to a surprise and horrifying conclusion.
McCreight has given us so many possibilities in her brilliant story that it's anyone's guess as we read to the end, what happened. I love books like this and raced to the final pages for the inevitably crushing revelation.
No, this book is not Gone Girl, like the new cover suggests with it's black and blonde theme but it's a novel that stands on its own, with a beautifully complex plot, heart-breakingly flawed characters and a chilling conclusion. Don't discount it because you expected a Gone Girl clone. It's nothing like Gone Girl except that it's that compelling.
If I could, I'd give Reconstructing Amelia a few more stars for keeping me riveted to a print book for several days, and thinking about Kate long after I finished. I highly recommend this read to mothers of daughters, mothers of girls in the public or private school system, mothers of daughters who tweet, FB and Instagram.
The world is a different place than when we grew up and knowing about cyber-bullying is an absolute must as a parent these days.
4930277
With a mother who was only a child herself, and a father who loved with blinders on, this book takes the reader into the dark world of a pedophile and his victims.

"She gave the devil permission for a play day."...It doesn't take long for the reader to discover that the devil's playmates are two innocent children. Treadwell takes the reader on a journey to hell and back. As 3 year old Saul and his baby sister, Jane, live a life most can not imagine, with "the devil slithering in and out of their lives", their mother found it easier to "live in denial than to face the truth."  This is a young boy's childhood journey of neglect, abandonment, unspeakable acts of abuse all the while wondering, "How does one love the psychotic monster of his worst nightmare?'

While an occasional relative or neighbor stepped in to help from time to time, the protection they offered these poor children was nothing more than a Band-Aid on a gushing, putrid, vile wound. Leviathan, Kings of Terror give insight to the 1950's and '60's way of dealing with child abuse, alcoholism and mental illness. The author writes in such a way, that the reader can not help but get caught up in the emotions and ugliness of these two unwilling victims as they alternate between trusting the adults in charge of their wellbeing and the fear of what will come next. No one should have to spend their childhood afraid, being humiliated and always wondering when "it" will happen again.

Treadwell writes his story through the eyes of a child who's innocence is crushed almost from birth. The reader feels as if they are right there as the physical and mental abuse of the characters takes place. The raw emotion and ugly truths are right with you. There is no wondering about what this author is trying to say. The pictures he draws in your mind will haunt you. If you are looking for a book about roses and rainbows, don't bother with this book. However, if you want to wait on baited breath turning page after page to find out what happens next, then this is a must read.
4447552
I bought "Love You Forever" for my now 8 year old son when he was a baby. It is a beautiful, poignant story that documents the profound bond that exists between mother and child. It ends by completing the circle into the next generation between father and daughter. Everytime I read this book to my son I get choked up -- and that doesn't happen often. I plan to read it to my 18 month old daughter very soon.

I was both amazed and flabbergasted at how some view this book. But the world contains all types of people with their own unique ways of thinking. Perhaps people who view this book as warped or perverted are judging the book through their own warped and cynical view of the world. Or maybe some folks just take things very, very literally. At any rate, it's a shame that some just don't get it. Simply put, it's a great children's book!
1155586
I agree with others on here, that the book is haunting and in some places nauseating. However, the main character has to overcome a very disturbing childhood and live with the scars of it the rest of her life. I can understand why she could not/would not raise a child as she was barely able to take care of herself physically. Ann Minnett (the author) does a great job describing the mental and physical abuse in the book.
1074761
This book is written so well that you neither want to nor need to skip a word. It's a rare look inside this world that most of us have never seen. As a parent, it's scary as hell. I hope more people read it and legislators take action.
296076
This is perhaps the most disturbing book I have ever read. I'm not into the "weird fiction" or horror genre but this book got passed around my family and I was curious. My brother literally had to get the book out of his house so he could go to sleep at night. My mother said she hated it, but wouldn't put it down. So I read it. Aronovitz' writing is is compelling and "true" in that the characters and their words/actions are natural, real, believable. That made the weird and creepy things that happened far more weird or creepy than one might normally expect from a genre book. I recommend this, but don't blame me if it gets to you.
431008
It was the cover that got me.  I also heard an interview with the author at some point about how he collected all of the postcards that later became the photographs in this book.  After what seemed like forever, both of those stuck with me so resoundingly that I hunted it down at a better point in my life, and read it within less than a week.

The plot summary is one which you can undoubtedly read the description hook for, so I won't reiterate what's already been said, except that you probably won't be disappointed with this if the description sounds like your thing.

Really, it has all of the elements of a haunting, darkly-imaginative and fast-paced fantasy.  If your grandfather ever told you scary stories as a child, stories you wondered about the truthfulness of at a less tender age, then read this book.  If you like exploring old, abandoned places and wondering about what might have been, read this book.  And lastly, if you like compelling characters, great atmosphere, and a main character you can feel for, read this book.  Some of the scenes within are written so vividly that I am left remembering them, even weeks after having finished reading.

The only caution I would include is that this is listed as a young adult book, but I'm guessing they mean the `older teen' range, because there is quite a bit cursing and some images that younger kids might find a little bit too edgy.  This isn't a children's book, even if it's billed as one.
487189
The night I read the first chapter, I couldn't sleep. I lay haunted by the sadness of three little girls enduring the death of their mother.

In The Light That Never Dies, William Hendricks guides his reader from the heart-wrenching sorrow of his 47-year-old wife Nancy's lost fight with cancer to his assurance that she is alive with Christ today. Although he professes to write not just for Christians, but "for anyone who knows grief, loss, pain, or suffering," (p. 21) his story is pervaded by the presence of a loving God. It is also pervaded by the presence of those little girls, Amy, Kristin, and Brittany, and their Daddy. How often I looked back at the photo of the family complete with its mother.

The first of the book's two dominant images comes from Margaret Wise Brown's children's classic, The Runaway Bunny. Brown's mother bunny vows to pursue her little one every time he runs away. "The little bunny knows that he will always be the object of his mother's affection" (p. 26). This motif entwines the human theme around the theological treatise. God, the ultimate Mother Bunny, manifests the same loyal love. The author himself displays it, assuring eight-year-old Amy that, "Even though Mommy's gone, Daddy's here, and I'm not going anywhere" (p. 83).

The Light That Never Dies, however, reaches beyond bunnies and their mothers, apt as that image may be. Neither is it only a memoir of God sustaining a family through intense pain, though He clearly does.

Revealing his Dallas Seminary theological training and didactic writing experience, Hendricks uses a second image, from Ecclesiastes 7:2. "It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting." But where was God in the Holocaust, Columbine, and 9-11? In the Challenger explosion and sniper deaths? In personal loss? Why is it better to go to the House of Mourning? From Ecclesiastes come biblical precepts for suffering. Life is brief. Death is not final. God comforts.

A book that might have become unbearably tragic instead brings hope from one who grieves with understanding. Heartwarming moments intersperse with excruciating times to provide stamina to persevere. As serious lessons creep from the story, so a husband's love glimmers in the little mentions, such as Nancy's favorite Earl Grey tea. And in his visual depictions of their special times. "Our surroundings gradually took form as the light intensified, like a Polaroid slowly developing" (p. 29).

With tenderness and candor, Hendricks evaluates his journey from the news of Nancy's diagnosis, through her sickness and death, to his own mourning and recovery. He admits his feelings. "Suffering is an a cappella solo" (p. 13). He declares theological truth. "Evil is real" (p. 39). He offers practical advice for those who console. "Loving care is best expressed in emotions and actions, not theology or philosophy" (p. 136). And he proclaims for our comfort that God is "utterly trustworthy" (p. 132). "His lovingkindness is everlasting" (p. 131).

Whether you ache now or seek to understand pain before your own turn comes, I commend to you The Light That Never Dies. The emotions are authentic. The lessons are thought provoking. And the conclusion of the book, an account of 15-year-old Brittany's expression of love, again threatened my sleep.
1358444
This book is biographical although that is not its main purpose. First and foremost, it is a plea to young people primarily, but to anyone, that suicide is not an answer to anyone. With the premature death of his older brother, with whom the author has had an exceptionally close relationship, much of the early part of the book gives an insider look at how this death touches and affects everyone who ever knew him. Bruce had everything to live for to the eye of all beholders, but he failed to let anyone into his inner struggles, whatever they may have been.

Too many who are on the edge of this precipice feel that they cannot burden their families and friends with their existence rather than talking to someone, anyone, no matter how large or small the perceived straw that would break them. They must learn to realize that there will be far more of a burden, and blaming of selves, than could ever crush those same people by sharing their feelings, deeds, or whatever overwhelms them.

The book actually begins with the death of Sam David, Carl's father, which takes us on the journey of memories and hence to the suicide of Bruce as an integral part of the memories. Carl David, through his memories, wounds, and lifelong struggle with "why" and "is it my fault?" demonstrates how much of a burden is placed on those who knew and loved Bruce. Though few families seem to share the closeness and love of the David family, the suicide did happen.  But this is not a sad book, it is meaningful, historical, and brings to mind an age gone by as Carl takes the reader through his memories from the 1950s on. Great memories of days gone by he shared with Bruce, memories of growing up with an amazing bond with his father, a lifetime of good memories.

The sudden death of his father at the age of 58, while on a buying trip in England, once again throws the family in turmoil. This event, as fraught with sorrow and  blame as the death of Bruce, almost puts his mother over the edge, adding to the anxiety. But this also brings a wealth of memories, although always with that sadness that clings. By this time, Carl has been married less than a year. Some people would call it paranormal, others would call it echoes, or a passing thought, but a feeling of the presence of the two departed makes itself known many times, a feeling of connection, and sometimes a warning.

Aside from the fears of mortality and loss, the book is full of the love, and the closeness this family has.  There is a bit of history of how the David David  Gallery, and the gallery is another theme throughout the book. This is where Carl learned the art business, along with his older brother Alan. When their father died so suddenly of a heart attack, the two brothers took over the Gallery.  When Carl's boys were old enough to show interest in the workings of the business, they, too, were eventually running the family business.

Another theme throughout the book is flying. Sam David was an excellent pilot and had his own Aztec plane, teaching the teen-aged Carl how to fly. Carl's memories flow on the hours spent with his Pop in the air. Carl lost his interest in flying when his father died, but after many years of not realizing how much time he spent trying to be like his father to keep his memory alive, he and his wife instead took to boating. This was probably the most major event to change the direction of his dwelling on the past. No longer did he dwell, but enjoyed the memories for what they were.

This book is a testament to handling whatever is thrown at you; not only that, but how to sort out the good from the tragic, incorporate those memories and go on. Carl chose to write the memories as a way for his sons to know their grandfather, who and what he was and the gentle, all-encompassing love and compassion he represented. This is perhaps his greatest gift.

Note: The David David Gallery is still in existence, and some of the works of art that Carl speaks of in his book can be seen on their website.
4351940
Having begun to read these reviews while looking for a copy for friend (I'll always keep the copy we read to our daughter when she was a child) I was stunned to see people describe this book as "creepy."  Never in all the years we read and discussed it did that idea ever occur to us.  In fact, we always perceived the concept to be transcendent to the actual storyline, the testimonial of a parent's pure love throughout the trials & tribulations of childhood and beyond.  Likewise, the fact that it was a boy rather than a girl was never an issue, since parental love is pure regardless of gender.  Somehow, the fact that I was so touched by this story seemed to always touch my daughter, too.  And yes, I made up my own melody to it, that I remember to this day.  Maybe it IS more an adult story than a kid's book, but let your child feel YOUR joy while reading, and ultimately understanding the intensity of parental love.  It is forever.
706871
I've read a lot of horror novels, but this is, by far, the most frightening and disturbing one. And it is not only because we have to witness a horrible crime, based on the cruel murder of Sylvia Likens. Of course, the story of the book is a horrifying one: Back in the 1950's, we meet David and his friends and family, living a rather normal life. Yes, there are some ugly secrets behind the surface, but everyone has chosen not to notice. All of the boys likes the neighbor Ruth, a single mother that treats them like adults, not like annoying little children. This woman seems to be the perfect stepmother for Meg and her sister Sarah, who have just lost their parents. But the beautiful and strong Meg brings out something horrible in Ruth. It starts with arguments, with punishments - it ends with physical and mental abuse of an almost unbearable cruelty, and with Meg being locked up and tortured in a bomb shelter in Ruth's cellar...

It is really hard to read through all the incredibly horrible things that are done to Meg, and it certainly doesn't help that many of the most disturbing cruelties are done by children. All the kids in the neighborhood are taking part in the torture - everyone knows, but no one helps, and none of their parents seems to care enough to notice what is going on the cellar next door. But the most frightening thing about the book is, in my opinion, that the reader is forced to go through the main character's feeling, and starts to feel the same thing. The story is absolutely shocking, but I felt such a strange and horrible fascination, that I couldn't stop reading anymore and actually finished it in one day. It is the same mixture of pure disgust and overwhelming captivation David goes through, and this was what makes the reader realize that everyone can be drawn into a horrible event like this - and that it can (and of course, does) happen again, anywhere, anytime.

This book is one of the best examples that no monster, no paranormal activity, no evil spirit can be more frightening than the human mind - and that bad things are not only done by bad people. David is a good boy and he feels true sympathy for Meg, but he can't resist until it is too late. And no one can truly say that he would have acted differently if he were in his shoes, because... you never know unless you have been there.

The Girl next Door is one of the most horrible and impressive books I've ever read. It is a book you will never ever forget about - even if you wish you could. And it shows a very important truth about human society, that Meg's history can repeat in everyone's house next door, and that we have to do everything to prevent this.