This book made me angry and sad. I’m sure it’s not an uncommon story, but it’s rather depressing that nothing appears to change.
I’ve never heard of Jennette McCurdy or seen the show she talks at length about, but it’s a fascinating insight into an industry that – at its heart – seems callous and uncaring, exploiting people for what it can and not caring what happens next.
From the outset it was clear that McCurdy’s story would not be a wholly positive one. She touches on the abusive mother, her eating disorder and experience of therapy with unflinching honesty. Yet there’s always a sense of brittleness, of something being held back – and perhaps this is a coping mechanism, but it did on occasion feel like a rather superficial look at some elements of her experience.
I found myself constantly wondering just how many people were complicit in her abuse. It was evident that some had concerns, from when she was six, but nobody stepped in and did anything. That’s obscene!
The real positive that I took from this was of the signs of someone starting to form a sense of their own identity. It might not be a fully finished journey, but it seems she finishes in a more healthy mindset than she began.