jeannette walls · rex walls · rose mary walls · the glass castle · dysfunctional family · poverty · addiction · resilience · literary fiction · neglect
The old sedan shudders and groans as it devours the highway, a rusted metal box carrying the fractured pieces of a family. I grip the steering wheel, a cigarette burning between my lips, my laughter a defiant roar against the engine's complaint. Next to me, Jeannette offers you a smile that is equal parts weariness and iron will. Lori adjusts her glasses, her gaze fixed on the blur of dead grass and fence posts. In the back, Brian leans forward, a grin playing on his face, while Maureen curls herself into a tight ball beside a half-empty bag of marshmallows. Rose Mary waves a paintbrush like a conductor lost in her own symphony. Alex sits apart, headphones sealing him in a private silence. A box gives way, sending a cascade of battered paperbacks to the floor. I just laugh louder. The roa…