Warenkorb
 

Educated

A Memoir

“Westover has somehow managed not only to capture her unsurpassably exceptional upbringing, but to make her current situation seem not so exceptional at all, and resonant for many others.”
—The New York Times Book Review

“Westover is a keen and honest guide to the difficulties of filial love, and to the enchantment of embracing a life of the mind.”
—The New Yorker


“An amazing story, and truly inspiring. It’s even better than you’ve heard.”
—Bill Gates

“Heart-wrenching . . . a beautiful testament to the power of education to open eyes and change lives.”
—Amy Chua, The New York Times Book Review

“A coming-of-age memoir reminiscent of 
The Glass Castle.”
—O: The Oprah Magazine

“Westover’s one-of-a-kind memoir is about the shaping of a mind. . . . In briskly paced prose, she evokes a childhood that completely defined her. Yet it was also, she gradually sensed, deforming her.”
—The Atlantic

“Tara Westover is living proof that some people are flat-out, boots-always-laced-up indomitable. Her new book,
Educated, is a heartbreaking, heartwarming, best-in-years memoir about striding beyond the limitations of birth and environment into a better life. . . . ★★★★ out of four.”
—USA Today

“[
Educated] left me speechless with wonder. [Westover’s] lyrical prose is mesmerizing, as is her personal story, growing up in a family in which girls were supposed to aspire only to become wives—and in which coveting an education was considered sinful. Her journey will surprise and inspire men and women alike.”
—Refinery29


“Riveting . . . Westover brings readers deep into this world, a milieu usually hidden from outsiders. . . . Her story is remarkable, as each extreme anecdote described in tidy prose attests.”
—The Economist

“A subtle, nuanced study of how dysfunction of any kind can be normalized even within the most conventional family structure, and of the damage such containment can do.”
—Financial Times

“Whether narrating scenes of fury and violence or evoking rural landscapes or tortured self-analysis, Westover writes with uncommon intelligence and grace. . . . One of the most improbable and fascinating journeys I’ve read in recent years.”
—Newsday
Rezension
"A coming-of-age memoir reminiscent of The Glass Castle."-O: The Oprah Magazine

"Beautiful and propulsive . . . [Tara Westover's] voice is so sui generis it feels in debt to no one. . . . And despite the singularity of her childhood, the questions her book poses are universal: How much of ourselves should we give to those we love? And how much must we betray them to grow up?"-Vogue

"An amazing story, and truly inspiring. The kind of book everyone will enjoy. It's even better than you've heard."-Bill Gates

"Heart-wrenching . . . a beautiful testament to the power of education to open eyes and change lives."-Amy Chua, The New York Times Book Review

"Westover is a keen and honest guide to the difficulties of filial love, and to the enchantment of embracing a life of the mind."-The New Yorker

"Westover's one-of-a-kind memoir is about the shaping of a mind. . . . In briskly paced prose, she evokes a childhood that completely defined her. Yet it was also, she gradually sensed, deforming her."-The Atlantic

"If [J. D.] Vance's memoir offered street-heroin-grade drama, [Tara] Westover's is carfentanil, the stuff that tranquilizes elephants. The extremity of Westover's upbringing emerges gradually through her telling, which only makes the telling more alluring and harrowing. . . . By the end, Westover has somehow managed not only to capture her unsurpassably exceptional upbringing, but to make her current situation seem not so exceptional at all, and resonant for many others."-The New York Times Book Review

"Tara Westover is living proof that some people are flat-out, boots-always-laced-up indomitable. Her new book, Educated, is a heartbreaking, heartwarming, best-in-years memoir about striding beyond the limitations of birth and environment into a better life. . . . ★★★★ out of four."-USA Today

"[Educated] left me speechless with wonder. [Westover's] lyrical prose is mesmerizing, as is her personal story, growing up in a family in which girls were supposed to aspire only to become wives-and in which coveting an education was considered sinful. Her journey will surprise and inspire men and women alike."-Refinery29

"Riveting . . . Westover brings readers deep into this world, a milieu usually hidden from outsiders. . . . Her story is remarkable, as each extreme anecdote described in tidy prose attests."-The Economist

"Incredibly thought-provoking . . . so much more than a memoir about a woman who graduated college without a formal education. It is about a woman who must learn how to learn."-The Harvard Crimson

"A subtle, nuanced study of how dysfunction of any kind can be normalized even within the most conventional family structure, and of the damage such containment can do."-Financial Times

"Whether narrating scenes of fury and violence or evoking rural landscapes or tortured self-analysis, Westover writes with uncommon intelligence and grace. . . . One of the most improbable and fascinating journeys I've read in recent years."-Newsday
Portrait
Tara Westover was born in Idaho in 1986. She received her BA from Brigham Young University in 2008 and was subsequently awarded a Gates Cambridge Scholarship. She earned an MPhil from Trinity College, Cambridge, in 2009, and in 2010 was a visiting fellow at Harvard University. She returned to Cambridge, where she was awarded a PhD in history in 2014. Educated is her first book.
… weiterlesen
  • Artikelbild-0
  • Prologue



    I’m standing on the red railway car that sits abandoned next to the barn. The wind soars, whipping my hair across my face and pushing a chill down the open neck of my shirt. The gales are strong this close to the mountain, as if the peak itself is exhaling. Down below, the valley is peaceful, undisturbed. Meanwhile our farm dances: the heavy conifer trees sway slowly, while the sagebrush and thistles quiver, bowing before every puff and pocket of air. Behind me a gentle hill slopes upward and stitches itself to the mountain base. If I look up, I can see the dark form of the Indian Princess.

     

    The hill is paved with wild wheat. If the conifers and sagebrush are soloists, the wheat field is a corps de ballet, each stem following all the rest in bursts of movement, a million ballerinas bending, one after the other, as great gales dent their golden heads. The shape of that dent lasts only a moment, and is as close as anyone gets to seeing wind.

     

    Turning toward our house on the hillside, I see movements of a different kind, tall shadows stiffly pushing through the currents. My brothers are awake, testing the weather. I imagine my mother at the stove, hovering over bran pancakes. I picture my father hunched by the back door, lacing his steel-toed boots and threading his callused hands into welding gloves. On the highway below, the school bus rolls past without stopping.

     

    I am only seven, but I understand that it is this fact, more than any other, that makes my family different: we don’t go to school.

     

    Dad worries that the Government will force us to go but it can’t, because it doesn’t know about us. Four of my parents’ seven children don’t have birth certificates. We have no medical records because we were born at home and have never seen a doctor or nurse.*  We have no school records because we’ve never set foot in a classroom. When I am nine, I will be issued a Delayed Certificate of Birth, but at this moment, according to the state of Idaho and the federal government, I do not exist.

     

    Of course I
    did exist. I had grown up preparing for the Days of Abomination, watching for the sun to darken, for the moon to drip as if with blood. I spent my summers bottling peaches and my winters rotating supplies. When the World of Men failed, my family would continue on, unaffected.

     

    I had been educated in the rhythms of the mountain, rhythms in which change was never fundamental, only cyclical. The same sun appeared each morning, swept over the valley and dropped behind the peak. The snows that fell in winter always melted in the spring. Our lives were a cycle—the cycle of the day, the cycle of the seasons—circles of perpetual change that, when complete, meant nothing had changed at all. I believed my family was a part of this immortal pattern, that we were, in some sense, eternal. But eternity belonged only to the mountain.

     

    There’s a story my father used to tell about the peak. She was a grand old thing, a cathedral of a mountain. The range had other mountains, taller, more imposing, but Buck’s Peak was the most finely crafted. Its base spanned a mile, its dark form swelling out of the earth and rising into a flawless spire. From a distance, you could see the impression of a woman’s body on the mountain face: her legs formed of huge ravines, her hair a spray of pines fanning over the northern ridge. Her stance was commanding, one leg thrust forward in a powerful movement, more stride than step.

     

    My father called her the Indian Princess. She emerged each year when the snows began to melt, facing south, watching the buffalo return to the valley. Dad said the nomadic Indians had watched for her appearance as a sign of spring, a signal the mountain was thawing, winter was over, and it was time to come home.

     

    All my father’s stories were about our mountain, our valley, our jagged little patch of Idaho. He never told me what to do if I left the mountain, if I crossed oceans and continents and found myself in strange terrain, where I could no longer search the horizon for the Princess. He never told me how I’d know when it was time to come home.

     

    *Except for my sister Audrey, who broke both an arm and a leg when she was young. She was 
taken to get a cast.
In den Warenkorb

Beschreibung

Produktdetails

Einband Taschenbuch
Seitenzahl 352
Erscheinungsdatum 30.10.2018
Sprache Englisch
ISBN 978-1-984854-85-8
Verlag Random House LCC US
Maße (L/B/H) 20.4/13.4/2.5 cm
Gewicht 256 g
Verkaufsrang 1482
Buch (Taschenbuch, Englisch)
Buch (Taschenbuch, Englisch)
Fr. 15.90
Fr. 15.90
inkl. gesetzl. MwSt.
inkl. gesetzl. MwSt.
zzgl. Versandkosten
Versandfertig innert 1 - 2 Werktagen,  Kostenlose Lieferung ab Fr.  30 i
Versandfertig innert 1 - 2 Werktagen
Kostenlose Lieferung ab Fr.  30 i
In den Warenkorb
Vielen Dank für Ihr Feedback!
Entschuldigung, beim Absenden Ihres Feedbacks ist ein Fehler passiert. Bitte versuchen Sie es erneut.
Ihr Feedback zur Seite
Haben Sie alle relevanten Informationen erhalten?

Kundenbewertungen

Durchschnitt
1 Bewertungen
Übersicht
1
0
0
0
0

An inspiring book!
von einer Kundin/einem Kunden aus Stuttgart am 11.01.2019
Bewertet: Einband: Taschenbuch

Dr. Westover is indeed extraordinary. I did not know that such condition also exist(ed) in Idaho. I am not sure whether she and her siblings were not allowed to go to school because the long family tradition or because her father is bipolar (he probs was just afraid). However, the book has led me to a big question: has a formal ... Dr. Westover is indeed extraordinary. I did not know that such condition also exist(ed) in Idaho. I am not sure whether she and her siblings were not allowed to go to school because the long family tradition or because her father is bipolar (he probs was just afraid). However, the book has led me to a big question: has a formal education torn their family apart?