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Like a lot of people my age, I grew up watching iCarly. Jennette McCurdy was part of the background noise of my childhood, so I came into this memoir with curiosity more than expectations. I already knew—vaguely—that her life hadn’t been easy. Child stars rarely get out unscathed. What I didn’t expect was how direct, unsettling, and grounding this book would feel, especially listening to it as an audiobook in her own voice.
What I Expected vs. What I Actually Experienced
I expected a behind-the-scenes look at Nickelodeon fame, maybe some familiar stories reframed with adult perspective. I thought it would be reflective, possibly sad, but still somewhat distanced—like many celebrity memoirs.
What I actually experienced was something much more intimate and uncomfortable in a necessary way. This book isn’t about fame as much as it’s about control, survival, and the long-term impact of growing up without autonomy. The title alone signals that this won’t be softened for the reader—and it isn’t. Jennette doesn’t ask for sympathy or dramatize her experiences. She just tells them plainly, which somehow makes them hit harder.
How It Felt to Read (and Listen)
I listened to the audiobook, and I genuinely think that matters here. Hearing Jennette narrate her own story adds a layer of weight that would be hard to replicate on the page. Her delivery is controlled, almost restrained at times, which contrasts sharply with the content. That restraint made the listening experience intense but focused—not overwhelming in a sensational way, but heavy in a reflective one.
The pacing is steady. This isn’t a book you rush through for plot turns. It unfolds chronologically, but emotionally it circles back to the same themes—control, worth, silence, and recovery. As someone who works with students who have experienced trauma, I found myself listening less like a fan and more like a professional trying to understand how early environments shape coping mechanisms later on.
That said, this is not an easy listen. There are explicit discussions of abuse, eating disorders, and toxic relationships. I strongly recommend checking trigger warnings before starting. The book is eye-opening, but it asks a lot of the reader emotionally.
Who This Book Is For
- Readers interested in trauma-informed perspectives
- Those curious about the realities behind child stardom
- Listeners who value author-narrated audiobooks
- People who appreciate honesty without forced redemption arcs
Who This Book Is Not For
- Readers looking for a light celebrity memoir
- Anyone who needs emotional distance from topics like abuse or eating disorders
- Listeners who prefer fast-paced or plot-driven nonfiction
Final Thoughts
I’m Glad My Mom Died isn’t a book I would casually recommend to everyone—but it is a book I think matters. It doesn’t glamorize pain or neatly tie everything up. Instead, it shows what it looks like to name harm honestly and move forward without pretending it didn’t leave marks.
If you decide to read or listen to it, go in prepared. It’s not comforting, but it is clarifying—and sometimes that’s exactly what a memoir should be.
