I wish this author would write MY memoirs someday, because I really love her voice. The "plot" of her life is quirky, to be sure, but she tells it with such warmth and grace, I could not put this book down.

As I read Rachel Brown's book it reminded me of how we took apart novels in college. If this had been discussed we would discuss how her abused mother felt drawn to, felt the need for a father figure. Is it remarkable Baba becomes her God? (A name meaning father in various languages). The mother drives away husband and daughter searching for the good father she didn't have. Religion then becomes the search for all of our inadequacies. Such high concepts in an autobiography make me feel all that discussion in school was not just BS. Overall great read, and great fun on any level.

Rachel Manija Brown, All the Fishes Come Home to Roost: An American Misfit in India (Rodale, 2005)

I'm not a big fan of memoirs, but I have to admit, once this one gets rolling, it's a great deal of fun. Brown, who grew up on a backwater ashram in India among what Nicholas Basbanes has called (referring to book collectors) the gently mad, writes of her formative years with an incisive wit and a truly twisted sense of humor. Any book that makes one chuckle and cringe simultaneously is doing something right. This book does it all too often.

More than anything, I find it unfortunate that I found nothing here hard to swallow. Religious wingnuts worshipping a dead guy in a diaper? Check. Pervasive physical and emotional abuse at a Catholic school? Check. Rampant prejudice? Check. Crazy drivers? Check. (Though it is tough to believe that there are worse drivers than those in and around Boston.) Adults who treat kids like they're idiots? I remember that one all too well. Brown reminds me of me as a kid, in many ways. Early and voracious reader, picked on a lot, much preferred being alone to the company of others. My parents were less crazy, but it's not too hard to extrapolate.

Because of this, and because of some of the less glowing reviews of the book I've seen, I wonder if there isn't more of a vertical market for this book than one might expect in our current memoir-crazy society. If you, too, are that kid, then I can't recommend this book highly enough. If you were the person who picked on that kid... eh, maybe not for you. *** ½

I hate to disagree with my Fellow Readers, but I found this to be an insufferable diatribe about how intelligent the author is. Yes, we know she was an early reader. Yes, we know she had a terrific vocabulary by the age of 7. I was so tired of hearing how bright this child was that I found it hard to finish the book. As an American Educator, I found her mother's quote insulting as well; "American schools don't know how to deal with kids as bright as you are." Give me a break; we are trained to enrich as we are trained to remediate~her experience shouldn't be fodder for such an unfair generalization. Maybe she should have elected to edit her mother's comment or leave it out altogether. At any rate, I have better things to do with my summer vacation than finish this essay. I did enjoy some of the snippets into Indian and ashram life so if you can get by this author's attempt to hit you over the head with her brilliance, it may be worth your while.

I heard about this book from a friend and read it out of curiosity. Brown really has a way with words and a gift for evocative description. However, from the very first, I was struck by her deep-seated resentment and bitterness, and the impression that as a child she wasn't much fun to be around. Although Brown tries to be funny, I find it hard to forget that she is vilifying real flesh-and-blood human beings, not her own imaginary characters. True, she changes their names, but I doubt this makes them hard to recognize by the people who know (or knew) them.

This is not a story, but a series of episodes that are linked together by Brown's need to condemn her parents for taking her to India to live in an ashram with a collection of oddball spiritual seekers. When it comes to plot in the Aristotelian sense, there is no "there" there.

In this work, Brown is critical and derisive towards everyone, while portraying herself as a special, heroic, and misunderstood victim. Reading between the lines, she needs to rationalize her own bratty and hostile behavior towards everyone around her except, I think, one kid named Walter. I can understand a child being self-centered, and utterly devoid of compassion or tolerance, but it's hard to understand these traits in an adult looking back on her life.

Given what's happening in today's world, I was especially disappointed by Brown's gross insensitivity to the principles of religious tolerance. I'm not a religious person myself, but I respect the beliefs of others, and especially their Constitutional right to religious freedom in America. There may be abusive nuns and priests, but that doesn't give anyone the right to abuse a religion that encompasses millions of sincere Catholics. It's just plain wrong to make fun of people -- even those who follow the teachings of an obscure Indian guru -- based on their religious or spiritual convictions.

In addition, I was quite disturbed by Brown's veiled implication that one of Meher Baba's disciples touched her with sexual intentions. If the disciple touched Mani inappropriately, then this is a very serious charge that should be addressed by her parents and the entire Meher Baba community. If he didn't touch her inappropriately, then it's very wrong of Brown to make this implication. Brown is honest to the point of cruelty throughout the book, so why the sudden coy ambiguity surrounding such a serious issue?

This book was not a page-turner for me, but I kept hoping for the kind of insight that often arrives to people who make an inquiry into their own lives and behavior through the medium of writing. I'm very sorry for the suffering that Brown went through as a child and hope that writing and publishing this book was a way for her to find personal healing. It's just too bad she had to hurt so many other people in the process. In some cases this was revenge, but in other cases she was exposing innocent people who never meant her any harm to contempt and ridicule.