Book Review: Educated by Tara Westover
When I first stumbled upon Educated by Tara Westover, I was drawn in by the gripping premise outlined in the opening lines, where Tara, at just seven years old, reflects on her family’s disconnection from the world of formal education. “We don’t go to school,” she writes, encapsulating the heart-wrenching reality behind a childhood marked by isolation and fear. As a book lover who firmly believes in the transformative power of education, I couldn’t help but feel a deep connection to her story. And what followed was an extraordinary memoir that melds horror with hope, resilience with reflection.
Tara’s narrative is both a personal odyssey and a collective commentary on family dynamics, identity, and the quest for self-fulfillment. Raised as the youngest of seven children in a survivalist, fundamentalist Mormon family in rural Idaho, her upbringing was anything but conventional. The contrasts she navigates—between her father’s extreme beliefs and her own yearning for knowledge—shape a powerful thread throughout the book. I found myself captivated by her descriptions of childhood, where moments of beauty and connection were interwoven with profound threats, revealing the duality of her experiences.
Westover’s writing is beautifully evocative, and her command of language often left me in awe. Her ability to articulate the complexities of her family life—especially her tumultuous relationship with her brother Shawn—has this haunting quality. For instance, when she reflects on the irrationality of her father’s fears, I could feel the weight of her internal struggle: “All abuse…is foremost, an assault on the mind.” This quote resonated with me deeply, shedding light on her gaslit reality.
As Tara ventures out into the world, attending college at BYU at seventeen, her naivety—asking questions about words everyone "knows"—is both charming and painful. Her journey into academia is a testament to her resilience and thirst for knowledge, revealing how education can be both liberating and isolating. With each page, I found myself rooting for her triumphs and feeling her struggles as she grappled not just with textbooks, but with her family’s expectations and the weight of her past.
What stood out most for me was Westover’s candid exploration of the emotional turmoil involved in cutting ties with an inherited identity. Her experiences are a poignant reminder of the sacrifices often required to forge one’s own path. By the end of the memoir, I felt not just admiration for her achievements, but a profound empathy for her journey.
Educated is a compelling read for anyone intrigued by the complexities of family, the pursuit of education, and the resilience of the human spirit. It’s a profound exploration of how we can both be shaped by our upbringing and rise above it—a narrative I suspect will resonate with many readers. Personally, it left me inspired and grateful for the transformative power education holds, igniting a spark in me to never take for granted the access to knowledge we often overlook.
In closing, if you’re seeking a memoir that blends heartbreak with hope, look no further than Educated. Tara Westover’s story is sure to leave an indelible mark on your heart and provoke thought long after you’ve turned the last page.