When I saw Rodenberg's memoir publicized on NetGalley, I was caught by two features: its connection to Minnesota (the state I called "home" for most of my life) and its promise to detail life in a selective religious commun(e)ity from the viewpoint of a child. The book delivers on both levels, although its structure and details may create momentary befuddlement for the reader (more on that in a moment).
The author describes how her childhood is radically changed when her parents decide to move to northern Minnesota, several hundred miles away from their home in Kentucky. Her grandparents are protectively concerned, but offer support throughout the young family's transition. She writes with candor and provides the unique perspective of life through a child's eyes. Living in community (of whatever kind) is a challenging proposition, but especially when living in the closest of proximities with those who share a religious life together.
The spiritual life she describes is directed by a strong male authority figure (complemented by the expectation that the "man of the family" will provide similar leadership in his own family unit). Surprisingly, the author seems to have emerged from such a rigorous childhood without bitterness. In the midst of what seems like spiritual and emotional confinement, she relates moments of liberation where humane light shines forth. After a period of home schooling, she is allowed to attend a local public elementary, where her artistic capacities are recognized and encouraged. In a religious sect that didn't permit celebrations like birthdays and holidays, there are moments where her mother privately surprises her daughters with loving gifts.
The book, though, is about much more than a child growing up in a fundamentalist religious sect. It is a multigenerational memoir, in which the value of extended family is described. It is, of course, still a personal memoir, and Rodenberg discloses with sometimes painful honesty the highs and lows of her (to this point) life's journey.
While the author's multigenerational memoir helps to provide the reader helpful context, there are times when the alternating chapter pattern between generations offers too many names and details. The power of her personal story's narrative is at times compromised by the flood of family details. I wonder how my appreciation of her work might be enhanced if it were simply her memoir, with brief (not chapter-long) family references.
The author's concluding paragraph reminds the reader that hers is a story still being written. And perhaps that is the book's most notable feature: the recognition that for all of us, our life's story continues to be written and any attempt we make at memoir is but a snapshot, a picture in a moment of time. The rest of the story, for all of us, is still being written.
(Disclosure: I received this NetGalley ebook without charge and received no compensation; the only expectation is to provide this honest review).
