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Glitter and Glue: A Memoir

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Overview

NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • Look for special features inside. Join the Random House Reader’s Circle for author chats and more.

From the author of The Middle Place comes a new memoir that examines the bond—sometimes nourishing, sometimes exasperating, occasionally divine—between mothers and daughters.
 
When Kelly Corrigan was in high school, her mother neatly summarized the family dynamic as “Your ...

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Overview

NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • Look for special features inside. Join the Random House Reader’s Circle for author chats and more.

From the author of The Middle Place comes a new memoir that examines the bond—sometimes nourishing, sometimes exasperating, occasionally divine—between mothers and daughters.
 
When Kelly Corrigan was in high school, her mother neatly summarized the family dynamic as “Your father’s the glitter but I’m the glue.” This meant nothing to Kelly, who left childhood sure that her mom—with her inviolable commandments and proud stoicism—would be nothing more than background chatter for the rest of Kelly’s life, which she was carefully orienting toward adventure. After college, armed with a backpack, her personal mission statement, and a wad of traveler’s checks, she took off for Australia to see things and do things and Become Interesting.
 
But it didn’t turn out the way she pictured it. In a matter of months, her savings shot, she had a choice: get a job or go home. That’s how Kelly met John Tanner, a newly widowed father of two looking for a live-in nanny. They chatted for an hour, discussed timing and pay, and a week later, Kelly moved in. And there, in that house in a suburb north of Sydney, 10,000 miles from the house where she was raised, her mother’s voice was suddenly everywhere, nudging and advising, cautioning and directing, escorting her through a terrain as foreign as any she had ever trekked. Every day she spent with the Tanner kids was a day spent reconsidering her relationship with her mother, turning it over in her hands like a shell, straining to hear whatever messages might be trapped in its spiral.
 
This is a book about the difference between travel and life experience, stepping out and stepping up, fathers and mothers. But mostly it’s about who you admire and why, and how that changes over time.

Praise for Glitter and Glue
 
“I loved this book, I was moved by this book, and now I will share this book with my own mother—along with my renewed appreciation for certain debts of love that can never be repaid.”—Elizabeth Gilbert, New York Times bestselling author of Eat, Pray, Love
 
“Kelly Corrigan’s thoughtful and beautifully rendered meditation invites readers to reflect on their own launchings and homecomings. I accepted the invitation and learned things about myself. You will, too. Isn’t that why we read?”—Wally Lamb, New York Times bestselling author of We Are Water

“Kelly Corrigan is no stranger to mining the depths of her heart. . . . [In] Glitter and Glue,Corrigan turns the microscope on her relationship with her own mother. . . . Through her own experience of caring for children, she begins, for the first time, to appreciate the complex woman who raised her.”O: The Oprah Magazine
 
“Corrigan [is] a lively, nimble cheerleader for the joys of family.”People

“[A] funny, sparkling memoir.”More

“Corrigan writes with warmth and delicate humor.”The Washington Post

“[An] irresistible cocktail of lyrical writing and solid, useful insight.”San Francisco Chronicle

“In this endearing, funny, and thought-provoking memoir, Kelly Corrigan’s memories of long-ago adventures illuminate the changing relationships between mothers and children—as well as everything else that really matters.”—Gretchen Rubin, New York Times bestselling author of The Happiness Project

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Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly
09/16/2013
Corrigan (The Middle Place) looks back on a transformative period in her life in the early 1990s. As a college grad determined to see the world and find adventure far from the safety net of her Philadelphia-based family (fans of her previous memoir have already met her outgoing dad, “Greenie,” and her more stoic mom Mary, the “glitter and glue”), she travels to Australia where she soon runs out of money and takes a temporary position as a nanny to two young children whose mother has passed away. Though disappointed to find herself in a mundane job in the suburbs, Corrigan is quickly drawn into the struggle of a family trying to carry on in the absence of its most “irreplaceable” member. As widower John Tanner, his young children, and his stepson Evan wind their way into young Kelly’s heart, she finds herself thinking more and more of her own mother’s voice, of her solid commitment to her children, husband, and faith, and of the lessons one can learn from ordinary life, “which are big, hard beautiful things.” Initially believing that “things happen when you leave the house,” the young Corrigan soon finds that life’s greatest dramas and deepest messages often unfold within the quiet underpinnings of relationships. The author’s fans and newcomers alike will welcome this story that probes the depths of mother-daughter bonds (Feb.)
Kirkus Reviews
2013-12-14
Corrigan's third book (Lift, 2010, etc.) deals with the layered relationship between mother and daughter. The glitter refers to her father, George, her cheerleader, "almost impossible to frustrate or disappoint." The glue, her mother, Mary, with whom she had an "adversarial but functional" relationship, held things together with her pragmatism. After college, when Corrigan decided to go on a multicountry odyssey, her father responded, "Fantastic!" Her mother: "You should be using that money to get established, get your own health insurance, not traipse all over creation." Ironically, it was Corrigan's travels that led her to appreciate her mother's point of view. The author ran out of money in Australia and took a job as a live-in nanny for a widower. John Tanner hired her to look after his two children while he traveled for his job as an airline steward, but it was a dysfunctional household: There was John, who seldom smiled; Martin, the open, affectionate 5-year-old; Milly, the resentful 7-year-old; Pop, their 84-year-old grandfather; and Evan, John's grown stepson. "If this family were a poker hand, you'd fold," writes Corrigan. "Without that middle card, it's an inside straight, and those almost never work out." Aside from a friendly flirtation with Evan, the action is internal as Corrigan called upon her mother's directives to help her provide some stability for the family. The most affecting part of the narrative is her struggle to connect emotionally with Milly and her realization that "maybe the reason my mother was so exhausted all the time wasn't because she was doing so much but because she was feeling so much." Written in a breezy style with humor and heart, the book reminds us how rewarding it can be to see a parent outside the context of our own needs. It's that illumination that allows Corrigan to turn what starts as a complaint about her mother into a big thank you.
From the Publisher
“Kelly Corrigan’s heartfelt homage to motherhood is every bit as tough and funny as it is nostalgic and searching. It’s a tale about growing up, gaining wisdom, and reconciling with Mom (something we all must do eventually), but it’s also an honest meditation on our deepest fears of death and abandonment. I loved this book, I was moved by this book, and now I will share this book with my own mother—along with my renewed appreciation for certain debts of love that can never be repaid.”—Elizabeth Gilbert, New York Times bestselling author of Eat, Pray, Love
 
Glitter and Glue explores how and why, in our exuberant and impatient youth, we launch ourselves into the world at large—and how and why we eventually circle back to home port, where, waiting for us, is the parent with whom we’ve had the more complicated relationship. Kelly Corrigan’s thoughtful and beautifully rendered meditation invites readers to reflect on their own launchings and homecomings. I accepted the invitation and learned things about myself. You will, too. Isn’t that why we read?”—Wally Lamb, New York Times bestselling author ofWe Are Water

“Kelly Corrigan is no stranger to mining the depths of her heart. . . . [In] Glitter and Glue,Corrigan turns the microscope on her relationship with her own mother. . . . Through her own experience of caring for children, she begins, for the first time, to appreciate the complex woman who raised her.”O: The Oprah Magazine
 
“Corrigan [is] a lively, nimble cheerleader for the joys of family.”People

“[A] funny, sparkling memoir.”More
 
“Corrigan writes with warmth and delicate humor.”The Washington Post

“[An] irresistible cocktail of lyrical writing and solid, useful insight.”San Francisco Chronicle

“In this endearing, funny, and thought-provoking memoir, Kelly Corrigan’s memories of long-ago adventures illuminate the changing relationships between mothers and children—as well as everything else that really matters.”—Gretchen Rubin, New York Times bestselling author of The Happiness Project
 
“Kelly Corrigan parses the bittersweet complexities of motherhood with humor and grace. Her writing has depth and buoyancy and light. It’s a river on a summer day. You slip into the current, laughing, and are carried away by it. Glitter and Glue is a perfect gift for anyone with a mother.”—Mary Roach, New York Times bestselling author of Stiff and Spook
 
“In Glitter and Glue, Kelly Corrigan gives us a lovely and insightful lesson in what it means to be both a mother and a daughter. This book will make you laugh, it will make you cry, and I know that you will gobble it up in a single day, just like I did.”—Ayelet Waldman, New York Times bestselling author of Bad Mother
 
“I teared up so many times while reading Glitter and Glue, thinking, ‘See? You never stop needing your mother.’ Yet with openhearted wisdom, Kelly Corrigan beautifully illustrates the idea that life goes on no matter what—and that even the impossible is always possible.”—Vanessa Diffenbaugh, New York Times bestselling author of The Language of Flowers
 
“Some books you quite like, some you even love, but especially rare are the books that remind you what reading is for. Glitter and Glue is my favorite reminder. Nobody tells a more natural story—with more easy charm, with such personal warmth and style—than Kelly Corrigan. In Glitter and Glue she’s your dream tour guide, making you laugh as she points out the biggies—love and death, mothers and daughters, sickness and health.  Buying this book feels like investing in a lifelong friend.”—Darin Strauss, award-winning author of Half a Life

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780345532831
  • Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 2/4/2014
  • Pages: 240
  • Sales rank: 31,161
  • Product dimensions: 5.60 (w) x 8.20 (h) x 1.30 (d)

Meet the Author

Kelly Corrigan

Kelly Corrigan is the author of The Middle Place and Lift, both New York Times bestsellers. She is also a contributor to O: The Oprah Magazine, Good Housekeeping, and Medium. Kelly co-founded Notes & Words, an annual benefit concert for Children’s Hospital Oakland featuring writers and musicians onstage together. Her YouTube channel, which includes video essays like “Transcending” and interviews with writers like Michael Lewis and Anna Quindlen, has been viewed by millions. She lives in the Bay Area with her husband, Edward Lichty, their two daughters, and a poorly behaved chocolate Lab, Hershey.

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Read an Excerpt

I shouldn’t be here. That’s what I’m realizing as I follow John Tanner down the hall of his house in suburban Australia. After the interview, I should’ve called back and said it wasn’t going to work. But I had no choice. I needed money, or I’d be back on my mother’s doorstep within a month, and wouldn’t that please her to no end?

It’s her fault. That’s another thought I’m having as I set down my backpack on a single bed in a room with a skylight but no windows, and John Tanner says, “I hope this will be okay.” If she had given me even a little money . . . a loan . . . 

This is not what I left home for. That’s the chalky horse pill I choke down when John Tanner says the kids are so excited about me moving in, they’ll be in here bouncing on my bed in no time. “First nanny and all,” he says.

I’m a nanny, a fucking nanny.

For the record, I didn’t touch down in Oz, open The Sydney Morning Herald, and circle “Recent Widower Looking for Live-­in Nanny.” If anything, I was thinking bartending, or at least waitressing. Good money, tons of laughs, guys everywhere.

My college roommate Tracy and I had been traveling for two months, burning through cash, so when we got off the bus in downtown Sydney, we filled out applications at all the restaurants and bars that sounded Yank-­friendly: Uncle Sam’s, Texas Rib Joint, New York Steak House. We followed up, we waited. Seven days in, we broadened the search—­surf shacks, burger joints, cafés, pubs. Nobody would hire us. We called friends of friends and left messages asking if they knew of any temp work. No one called us back. We tried all the bulletins posted at the hostels. No one would bend the rules to let us work under the table. So after three weeks, we did what no self-­respecting globe-­trotter would: We looked in the help-­wanted ads for nanny gigs, all of which were in the ‘burbs, where we would meet zero boys and have zero big experiences and learn nothing about anything.

I picked a rich family with an indoor pool and views of the Sydney Opera House, but Eugenia Brown turned out to be a total despot, and after I made a funny face about scrubbing her pool tiles and dragged my heels about helping with a mailing regarding her availability as a bridge tutor, I pointed out that her ad had said nanny, not nanny plus housecleaner plus personal assistant, at which point she said I was her first American—­she usually hired Asians, who had “worked out so nicely”—­and that I might be too “unionized.” Then she fired me.

After that, I interviewed with four more families. I told Smiley Vicki in Chatswood that I was open to babysitting on weekend nights, which would suck, and Skinny Jane on Cove Lane that I knew CPR. Didn’t matter. No one wanted a nanny who could only stay for five months, so I went back to the newspaper, and the widower’s ad was still there.

John Tanner was older than I thought a man with a seven-­year-­old and a five-­year-­old would be. His mustache was graying, and his hairline had rolled back a touch from where it started. His shoulders were sloped, giving him the outline of my grandmother’s Frigidaire. All in all, he struck me as someone who might participate in Civil War reenactments.

In a conversation that lasted under an hour, he explained that he was a steward for Qantas and used to work the overnights to New Zealand, Tokyo, and Singapore. It had been six months since his wife passed, and it was time to resume his usual schedule. He needed an extra pair of hands, someone who could drive the kids to school when he was flying. He didn’t care that I couldn’t commit to a year. He couldn’t either. He said this would be a good way to test the nanny plan—­he wasn’t sure it was the right long-­term solution for them—­and I said that sounds great to me, and we shook hands, the deal done. He did not ask to make a copy of my passport. He was tired and I was good enough for now.

The house is a rancher half-­painted in such an ill-­chosen orange—­probably called “Happy Face” or “Sunny Outlook”—­that I wonder if he’s color-­blind, or relied on his wife for those sorts of decisions. Gallon cans, half unopened, line the porch. There’s no discernible method to the painting, just halfhearted swaths of color here and there. The patches under the windows make it look like the house itself is crying.

In the living room, John’s widowhood is even more evident. There’s crayon on the walls and puzzle pieces sprinkled on the floor. The sofa’s slipcover is bunched up. On the side table, a plastic dinosaur is tipped over in rigor mortis beside a framed school photo of a girl in a plaid uniform, pushed back against a small treasure chest you might get from a dentist or a fast-­food restaurant. A piano bench overflows with drawings on pages that, I see as I get closer, are sheet music. Tilt, I hear my mother say, which I believe refers to the message pinball machines flash when players lose control, but I can’t say for sure. Some of her expressions are hard to deconstruct. (I learned only recently that when she says Mikey! after the first bite of something good, she’s alluding to the old Life cereal commercial.)

My bag unpacked, John’s son, Martin, trots toward me on the balls of his feet like a show pony. He’s scrawny, and his ears rise to a point, like the Texan Ross Perot, who just announced his campaign for president.

“Keely!” he calls, his accent lifting the middle of my name until it rhymes with wheelie. I met him only briefly during the interview last week, but that’s no matter to him. We’re friends already.

“Hello there!”

His smile is loose and wavy, and his lips have a line of red crust along the edges from too much licking. I have lip balm in my pocket. I could start fixing him right now.

“Listen!” he says. I watch as he bangs around on the piano, creating a soaring anthem of madness and joy before spinning around to check my reaction, making me feel important.

“Brilliant. Bravo! Do it again!” I say, clapping. He whips back around, raises his hands high in the air, and pauses like a pelican hovering over an unsuspecting fish. “Go!” I say.

He drops his hands to the keys in a free fall and hammers out a near cousin to his first composition.

“Genius. Pure—­”

“LOUD RUBBISH,” Milly, who would hardly look at me when we met, hollers from the TV room. “I’M TRYING TO WATCH MY SHOW!”

“I can play! Keely wants me to play!”

“Well, I don’t!” she shouts. “Daddy!”

“OY!” John silences the two of them. All three of us, actually.

I peek around the corner to make nice with Milly, who sits low in a chair, wearing her school uniform: a plaid kilt with a thin white shirt, untucked. Her lips are pressed together, her hands tucked under her thighs. If she could make herself disappear into the crease of the chair, she would. She has a round face, a dozen freckles sprinkled across each cheek, blue eyes, and thick sandy hair gilded with highlights that a middle-­aged woman would pay a lot for.

“Hello,” I say.

“Hi,” she says, barely moving her lips.

“So, you’re coming up on eight, right? Wow!” She looks at me like, Really? Is it really so “wow”? Her fingernail polish is chipped. I have a bottle of polish in my bag. I could fix her, too. “What grade are you in again?”

She doesn’t answer.

“Amelia Tanner, Kelly is asking you a question,” John prods from the kitchen.

“Second.”

“What are you watching?”

“Television.” Little Miss Smart-­mouth, I hear my mom say.

“Do you like hard candy?” I hold out a lemon drop.

“No. Thank you.” Her accent brings to mind the British Royals, as do her robotic manners. She doesn’t want a nanny. She knows how it is that her family has come to need the help of Some Lady. She knows I’m here to help everyone Transition. Even if no one else cares that a stranger will soon be making her sandwiches, zipping her jacket, and signing her permission slips on the line clearly marked Parent’s Signature, her loyalty is with her mother, wherever she is.

“What’s your name?” Martin says, appearing behind me holding a big encyclopedic book called Marsupials.

“You know my name, silly. Kelly.”

“What’s your mum’s name?” he asks innocently. I glance over at Milly, who doesn’t seem to be disturbed by his question.

“Um, Mary.”

“What’s your name?”

“Kelly.”

“What’s your mum’s name?” he says again, in the very same cheery tone that, mercifully, undercuts what otherwise would be an unbearably sad call-and-response.

“Mary.”

I look to Milly for help, but she’s busy transmitting her distrust using only her eyes: Don’t think you can come in here and take over just because you’re all buddy-­buddy with my chump brother. She will not be diverted by my cheer and candy. She will not throw open the gates to the territory and stand by while I tromp all over their sacred ground.

Well guess what, Milly Tanner? I don’t want to be here, either. I didn’t save for a year and fly halfway across the world to stir-­fry kangaroo meat and pick up your “skivvies” off the bathroom floor. This was supposed to be my trip of a lifetime, my Technicolor dream.

Things happen when you leave the house. That’s my motto. I made it up on an Outward Bound trip after college. During the Solo—­three days and three nights alone on a stretch of beach in the Florida Everglades with a tent, five gallons of water, an apple, an orange, and a first-­aid kit—­I made the most of what my hairy vegan counselor, Jane, called “a singular opportunity to plan your life.”

After deciding where to put my tent, dragging my water into a patch of shade, floating naked and singing “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor, I pulled out my journal and mapped out my life in yearly, sometimes monthly, increments. No way was I going to be just another apple rotting at the base of my mother’s tree. I was going to roll. I was going to Do Things Worth Doing and Know Things Worth Knowing. Seventy-­two hours later, when Jane pulled up in the motorboat, all major decisions were settled: work, grad school, relationships, moves, marriage, childbearing. I went all the way up to my death, a peaceful event that I scheduled for 2057.

But for all my zealous imagining, a year later I looked up from my life and was deeply unimpressed. I worked at the bottom rung of a nonprofit in downtown Baltimore, and thanks to the understandably pitiful pay, I lived with Libby, my grandmother on my mom’s side, which meant that except for Tuesdays, when I had Weight Watchers, I spent every weeknight eating roasted meats and Pillsbury dinner rolls with Libby and her very crazy brother, whom everyone called Uncle Slug. By eight o’clock on any given night, I was up in my room—­the room where my great-­great-­aunt Gerty lived until she died in the rocking chair that still sat by the window—­highlighting The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People until my next move became clear.

If I really wanted to grow, well, that was not going to happen while I was living with my granny, driving my shit Honda two miles to the office every day, clocking in to happy hour on Water Street at five p.m., hoping some club lacrosse player would try to suck my face behind the phone booth after pounding a Jägermeister shot. I needed to get out. I needed an adventure. So I found a round-­the-­world ticket on sale in the back of The New York Times and talked Tracy into coming with me. One year, seven countries, bang-­o—­odyssey!

When I laid out the plan for my parents, my dad said, “Lovey, FANTASTIC!” He would know. He went to Australia with a lacrosse team back in the late fifties. “Go get ’em, Lovey!” He’s a Life Eater, my dad.

My mom said, “You haven’t been out of college two years yet. You need to focus on making money, saving up.”

“I have saved. How do you think I’m paying for the plane ticket?”

“You should be using that money to get established, get your own health insurance, not traipse all over creation,” she said. “I certainly hope you’re not expecting help from your father and me.”

“I’m not.” (Hoping, maybe.)

“Good. You don’t want to come home to a mountain of debt.”

“Mom, I get it.”

“You get it. I bet you get it,” she said, mostly to herself, as she cut a sliver of lemon rind to toss in her five o’clock drink.

“Anyway, I’ll go back to work when I get home.”

“You better hope they’ll take you back.”

“They will.”

She looked at me like I thought I knew everything. “You  really think you know everything, don’t you?”

“Here’s what I know: I want Life Experience!”

“You know what’s good Life Experience? Life. Real life is excellent life experience,” she said, pleased with her retort. “How does running around Australia apply to anything . . . like working, marriage, family?”

“Mom—­God! You know what? Things happen when you leave the house.”

“What?”

“I’m not going to magically become interesting sitting on the sofa. I’m not going to learn anything—­my values, or purpose, or point of view—­at home. Things happen when you leave, when you walk out the door, up the driveway, and into the world.”

“I don’t know why you don’t walk out the door and go to an office, like everyone else.”

Despite my mom’s total failure to get behind me, I liked everything about the odyssey plan. I even liked the vocabulary of travel. Ripping yarns of distant shores, exotic vistas, excursions, expeditions. Show me the poetry in ground-­beef special, informational interview, staff development.

Two months later, my parents walked me to the gate at JFK. I spotted Tracy from a hundred yards away—­she’s six feet, a head taller than all the Taiwanese in line for our flight to Taipei—­with her mom. They have the same haircut because they go to the same hairdresser; they share clothes and shoes, sunglasses and jewelry, which they can do because Tracy’s mom has pierced ears, like a normal person. My mom wears clip-­ons that feel like little vises on my earlobes.

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Interviews & Essays

Kelly Corrigan on her new memoir GLITTER AND GLUE


I'm Irish. That must be where the luck comes from, the luck required to find a publisher after filling diaries and journals for thirty years, first in a gingham wonderland from Sears, then in a dorm room in Virginia, finally in a fixer-upper near Oakland, California.

My first book, The Middle Place, was about my father, Greenie, who was very sick at the same time that I was very sick. Next, in 2010, I tried to capture what it has been to my daughters' mother in Lift. Finally, with Glitter and Glue, my mother gets her due. Now, Mary Corrigan is a complicated topic, as most mothers are. Think stoic, gritty, unbending; one part saint, two parts sergeant. Or, as she put it, "Your father's the glitter, but I'm the glue. It takes both, Kelly."

I hope that somehow, given the toppling pile of books on your nightstand, you can find an evening to spare for this story of how I came to wonder who my mom was before I arrived, what motherhood had done to her and who she had become since I left home. Parenthood is so distorting; we all deserve a second, longer look.

I love hearing from readers so please feel free to connect with me online.

Until then,

Kelly

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4
( 22 )
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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 22 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted February 5, 2014

    I Also Recommend:

    This is a phenomenal book. Very inspiring. Well written. Very in

    This is a phenomenal book. Very inspiring. Well written. Very interesting.

    4 out of 4 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted February 24, 2014

    I just finished reading Glitter & Glue and loved it!  Kelly

    I just finished reading Glitter & Glue and loved it!  Kelly Corrigan has the ability to draw the reader in with a memoir that defines her future as a mother, daughter, wife & friend.  A fitting tribute to her mother that entertains and relates to daughters everywhere.  A must read and share book! 

    3 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted February 9, 2014

    Excellent!

    Excellent!

    2 out of 4 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted February 13, 2014

    I Also Recommend:

    Kelly Corigan is a very gifted author. Her book Glitter and Glue

    Kelly Corigan is a very gifted author. Her book Glitter and Glue is a great one. It is filled with life lessons and insight. The stories are varied and entertaining. Overall I really enjoyed this book.

    1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted September 23, 2014

    Both funny and moving. This is a quick read, but full of insight

    Both funny and moving. This is a quick read, but full of insight. 

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 8, 2014

    Written with passion

    An okay read. The authors experience was not strong enough to keep me interested but did reveal her passion. Was glad to finish. Did not hit the mark. I appreciate the effort.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 16, 2014

    I loved this book and the message that it had. I liked the journ

    I loved this book and the message that it had.
    I liked the journey that kelly had with her mother throughout the book.
    It delievers a great message to any teen girl going through a tough time with their mothers.
    I would suggest this book to anyone who likes a good read!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 4, 2014

    A very special treasure ...

    This book had such impact on me that I have given 4 copies as gifts ... so far.

    Full of meaning for mothers and daughters ...

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted March 30, 2014

    Kelly Corrigan really hit it out of the park with this book. She

    Kelly Corrigan really hit it out of the park with this book. She really captures the
    mother-daughter relationship. I don't even have children and I really felt a connection to this book.
    It really makes you think about your mom and appreciate her in anew light if you didn't already. Fabulous read.

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  • Posted March 30, 2014

    Great book

    This is a great book for helping us all remember that what we learn each day, from any source - even mothers and grandmothers - may turn out to be wonderful resources at some point in our lives.

    A great, readable & interesting book.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 18, 2014

    Brooke

    Haha if i lock my sis or bro out of thair room my mo lockes me out side

    0 out of 5 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 18, 2014

    Gino

    Thats mean like if my sis bfs come over then im not allowed to be in the house or near them

    0 out of 5 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted March 14, 2014

    A very good read. Very much recommended.

    I really enjoyed this book, because I have many grown children, I certainly can relate with this author. Even if you have no children, I'm sure you will enjoy it. I would like to see more of Kelly Corrigan's work.

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  • Posted March 14, 2014

    Good book- recommended read

    Have not finished the book yet, but am thoroughly enjoying it so far.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 14, 2014

    Just ok

    A nice quick beach read, but nothing life-changing. I prefer a more substantial book.

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  • Posted March 1, 2014

    Love Kelly Corrigan books

    I enjoyed this book as much as all her other books. They read like a visit with a friend. Kelly's style of writing is always something I want to delve into. This one about the mother-daughter relationship, that sometimes changes with age and wisdom. Her relationship with her mother was much better understood after she worked as a nanny.Very real story for a lot of women, I think.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 27, 2014

    I Also Recommend:

    I loved this book. It really captures all facets of the mother/d

    I loved this book. It really captures all facets of the mother/daughter relationship. The writing is crisp and a joy to read. The author is adept at making you relate to her reflections.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 26, 2014

    Ohmygosh! I loved this book! 

    Ohmygosh! I loved this book! 

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 18, 2014

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted February 27, 2014

    No text was provided for this review.

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