The Blood on My Hands: Shannon O’Leary
This is an extremely well-written book. I’m reminded a little of Jeanette Walls’s The Glass Castle. As I read the book and the horror of Patrick’s personalities—the Devil, the Games Man, the grandmother, and the baby—and behaviors became apparent, I felt a continuing sense of wonder at your ability to dramatize these stories and to make all of the characters appear real.
I think one of the things that sets this book apart from other stories of abusive family members is the details relating to the lives of other people you describe, both before and after you escape. Rosalie, for example, and Janie. Bill, while better than your father, is still a terrible person. I’m left with the feeling that the whole world is full of families hiding terrible secrets. I think this is an autobiography that definitely deserves a sequel.