I’m Glad My Mom Died by Jennette McCurdy is one of, if not the most, raw, candid, and captivating memoirs written in recent years. When we introduced this book as the Book of the Month for January, most first impressions were: what is it about—her hating her mother? The short answer is no.

The memoir is about the grueling process of realizing that the thing you love the most may also be the very thing causing you the most harm. It is a story of discovering that the identity you present—and even your internal identity—was never yours to begin with; constructed by someone else. It is a series of sojourns where we are met with the utmost honesty—no sugarcoating, no euphemisms—just the raw thoughts, emotions, and actions of Jennette in the present tense.

I’m Glad My Mom Died is nothing short of an encapsulation of inhabiting the mind of a stranger. But it is more than that. Through the most idiosyncratic stories—not just of a Nickelodeon star, but of someone with the resilience to, by hand, uproot the trees, bushes, and weeds that someone else planted in your garden—the garden that was always meant to grow roses.