I’m Glad I Read This: Review of iCarly star Jennette McCurdy’s memoir, “I’m Glad My Mom Died”

Growing up in the early 2000’s, nine-year-old me was constantly glued to the TV after school obsessing over the latest episode of the Nickelodeon hit show “iCarly.”

When I saw Jennette McCurdy — the actress who played Carly’s eccentric best friend Sam Puckett — released a memoir, I immediately drove down to Barnes and Noble and picked up a copy of “I’m Glad My Mom Died.” Any preconceived notions of this book being just another surface-level celebrity memoir skimming the surface of her life were blown out of the water.

The authenticity and detailed description of her uniquely traumatic childhood in Jennette’s writing pays off, making it an incredibly rewarding read.

The book opens with a scene of Jennette and her family sitting beside her mother’s hospital bed, in critical condition after a breast cancer relapse. The family takes turns sharing big news of getting engaged and buying houses in hopes of waking her up from her coma. Then it’s Jennette’s turn.

“Mommy. I am… so skinny right now. I’m finally down to eighty-nine pounds.”

Finally down to the goal weight her mom set for her, she was positive that this news would wake her comatose mother — a point of view which shocked me. She kicked her feet up and laid back in the hospital room chair.

Through these raw and borderline-unbelievable vignettes of Jennette’s life, I felt like I was living Jennette’s childhood through her eyes. 

Since she was a child, Jennette and her mother had an unbreakable bond. They knew everything about each other — well, almost everything. One of the first things Jennette asserts in the book is that she hates acting, a shocking truth to read as someone who loved watching her on “iCarly” and “Sam and Cat.” However, we learn in the book that Jennette’s actions are not her own choices, but rather motivated by her mother’s manipulation — a sad, yet common trend throughout the book.

This is demonstrated when ten-year-old Jennette is at Dairy Queen with her mother, and when she orders cookies and cream instead of her usual nutty coconut, her mother is shocked.

“You don’t want nutty coconut?” she says, eyes welling with tears and posture softening. “Nutty coconut’s been your favorite for eight months. You’re changing, growing up.”

It’s due to this guilt trip Jennette changes her mind and bends to the will of her mother, who she sees as this infallible figure incapable of being wrong. 

Unfortunately, this isn’t the last time she pulls this on her daughter. Signing up for 30+ hours of dance classes a week, insisting on bathing Jennette until she was 16 and even forcing her to practice pogo stick-ing for weeks until she could do 1,000 jumps in a row after she got denied a role for not being able to use a pogo stick were just a few examples her mother’s overbearing, controlling nature.

Throughout the book, Jennette’s toxic codependency with her mother worsens. It’s seen again as her mother teaches her a “trick” at age 11 to delay puberty and get more child-star roles — calorie restriction.

Meanwhile, she was still performing on “iCarly,” with millions of viewers — including third-grade me — oblivious to her off-screen hardships. Reading this gave me more insight into the behind-the-scenes world of Jennette McCurdy instead of just making me feel outright bad for her: a refreshing memoir-writing style.

As she grows up, her hardships grow along with her. Through the filming of “iCarly,” “Sam and Cat,” a short-lived country music career, a bout of alcoholism, anxiety, depression, a handful of boyfriends and endless mother-induced trauma, she hits rock bottom. 

Then her mom dies.

I remember reading and rereading this part of the book because of the simple power Jennette writes with. What particularly affected me is how she put it: every year on her birthday she wished for her mother to live another year as she blew out her candles. In her wake, Jennette was listless, locked in a state of devastated mourning, complicated further by their atypical relationship.

I have a certain appreciation for the book’s “to-be-continued”-style ending, proving that even though Jennette is removed from all of this trauma now, she’s still coping with its effects and works every day to get better and take back control of her life — a cliché, but honest message she leaves with readers.

Jennette handles difficult topics of eating disorders, mental health, childhood trauma and sexual assault with the humor I’ve only seen her pull off. 

Jennette puts it best on the inside cover blurb of the book: “Told with refreshing candor and dark humor, ‘I’m Glad My Mom Died’ is an inspiring story of resilience, independence, and the joy of shampooing your own hair.”