Educated by Tara Westover, New York: Random House, 2018

In her memoir, Educated, Tara Westover describes her upbringing in rural Idaho under the shadow of Buck's Peak. Just below that mountain, her father worked a scrap metal and construction operation. Paranoid and domineering, he rejected all things having to do with external authority, including modern medicine and public schools, preparing feverishly for the end of the world. Her mother was a midwife focused on unusual forms of spiritual healing. The family practiced a fundamentalist version of Mormonism, intermixed with conspiratorial right-wing politics. Westover received no formal schooling, and her instruction at home, when it existed, was perfunctory and largely unsupervised. She spent most of her formative years working in the ragged and dangerous family junkyard, barely escaping serious injury on multiple occasions. Common trappings of mainstream American life, such as seat belts, hand washing, and aspirin were ridiculed. She was emotionally and physically abused by her older brother, a fact the family ignored and, at times, covered up. The difficulties at home, along with the example of another older brother who fled the family to pursue a college education, gradually pushed Westover to seek something different. She taught herself algebra and science and did well enough on the ACT to earn entrance into Brigham Young University (BYU). There, she was exposed to new ideas, people, and ways of thinking. She was listened to by sympathetic clergy, eventually realizing the extent of her ignorance of the larger world (she had never heard of the Holocaust). The family drama, however, continued: while at BYU, her father suffered a serious accident and was treated with home therapy. He recovered (sort of) and he and his wife became missionaries for their vision of natural healing and essential oils. While at BYU, Westover was encouraged to attend Cambridge University on a study-abroad opportunity, an experience that continued to broaden her vision and build her independence and academic self-confidence. As a Gates Scholar, she completed an MPhil and PhD at Cambridge in the history of political theory. She eventually tried to confront her family about the truth of the abuse she and her siblings had suffered at home, but her memories were disputed, and she was cut off from the family unless she “repented” and submitted to the will of her father. Those who have read this book know this outline is only the thinnest account of Westover's story, the details of which are in equal measures mesmerizing, inspiring, thought-provoking, and terrifying. The book is a masterpiece of storytelling; indeed, as I write this review, the book remains permanently camped on national bestseller lists. But beyond the sheer spectacle of Westover's life, what can be learned from her account? And why should this book be reviewed in a journal focused on philosophy of education? While Westover’s academic credentials are impressive, the book is written for a popular audience, not an academic one, and certainly not a philosophical one. Westover does seem to be somewhat conversant in educational thought–the preface of her book includes a quote from John Dewey about education as the “reconstruction of experience”–but she largely refrains from theorizing her experience. In the end, the book is a memoir: one person's expression of her own experience. I think there are several things that make the book worth reading from the standpoint of educational philosophy and theory: first, it serves as a data point relevant to ongoing philosophical debates; second, it offers some fairly unique and interesting ideas about education, particularly relating to the emotional experience of her education; and third, it allows us think about the book's literary form (as a memoir) apart …