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Another hour on a Sunday morning
All Julia Scheeres ever wanted was to have a normal, happy family. But, when her fanatical mother decides they should all move to rural Indiana, Julia's life begins to unravel. In the blistering heat of the isolating community, Julia and her adopted brother David struggle together through adolescence. But with a mother whose first concern is her church missionaries, and a distant father whose rare presence is resented by all and feared by others, home for Julia becomes a place of unspeakable secrets...
First published September 6, 2005
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About the author
Julia Scheeres
5 books344 followersI was born in Lafayette, Indiana and now live in the Bay Area. I'm the author of the memoir "Jesus Land," which was a New York Times and London Times bestseller and of the award-winning "A Thousand Lives: The Untold Story of Jonestown," which is being developed into a feature film. I teach memoir and creative nonfiction, online and in San Francisco, and work with private clients on book projects. For more information, please see: www.juliascheeres.com
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,796 reviews
April 25, 2008
Many people on this forum say it was hard or impossible to believe that all of these things could have happened to one person. But I have no trouble believing these things could have happened - in my job I hear these kind of stories every day. One person said that the author should have kept these stories to herself or only shared with her mental health counselor. But if she chose to break the silence of her ordeal I see nothing wrong with that. And I liked the fact that her relationship with David was so very complex - I found that very realistic. I think it's amazing that the author survived and reached out to others who suffered. The book was heartbreaking but it contained as much redemption as one could hope for. Of course I have no idea how accurate the book really is. But frankly I think that anyone who doesn't believe these awful things could have happened has probably lead a very sheltered life.
December 8, 2023
I think I’m well-positioned to review this book, because I grew up with Julia and David Scheeres. More precisely, we all went to Lafayette Christian School through eighth grade. Both Julia and David were in my brother’s elementary school class, one year ahead of me. Jerome, her older adopted brother, was in the class two years ahead of me. Lafayette Christian figures heavily in the story, although the story itself takes place starting two years after graduation from that school.
I can’t decide quite what to make of “Jesus Land.” It is a compelling memoir of sufferings undergone. I can confirm certain gruesome external details about Julia’s upbringing, so the criticisms comparing it to “A Million Little Pieces” and similar fabulist works are unfair, and I expect that her Escuela Caribe experience was pretty much just as she described it. I knew David Scheeres, and he was an excellent kid with a great heart, just as he is described (unlike his adoptive brother Jerome, whom I also knew, and who was a very bad actor even as a child).
Without going into unnecessary detail, for example, I can confirm personally seeing either welts or scars (at this remove, I cannot say which) all across David’s and Jerome’s backs from whippings with some instrument. This was not regarded as normal, but as Scheeres said, back then nobody would do anything about such things. So while I never knew her parents personally, it seems to me entirely possible they were just as bad as she portrays. (Her father is apparently dead, though she does not mention it. She does not mention what happened to Jerome, but a simple Google search suggests that at least in 2011 he was still living in the same geographic area, because he was arrested for marijuana possession.)
But “Jesus Land” is undermined and worsened by numerous small factual inaccuracies, and frankly, fictions. One could say that these are poetic license. But they are not poetic. Nor are they accidental. Rather, they are all in the service of what is the book’s prime vice, which is that it is written for, and only for, a specific audience and target market. That market is leftist agnostics and atheists who have contempt not only for Christianity but for every person who lives in flyover country. You see this in that Scheeres repeatedly notes she lives in Berkeley, in order to signal to the reader she is Not That Kind Of Person. Only the Right Kind Of Person, of course, is invited onto NPR and other media outlets; hence the continual dripping contempt for anyone not fitting the author’s mold of A Desirable Person (which apparently zero people in Indiana do).
One possible response is “So”? Leftist atheists need love, and books directed at them, too. But the problem with small inaccuracies, or falsehoods, is that they undermine confidence in the rest of the narrative. What also undermines and coarsens the book is the cardboard nature of everyone portrayed. They all are grossly deficient in every way, and characterized as such with contemptuous adjectives. Bus drivers are “fat.” French teachers teach “in a constipated voice.” The barrage of contempt is never-ending and highly distracting. (It only lets up when the author talks about what is apparently the real “Jesus Land,” namely Berkeley.)
Anyway, on the inaccuracies. None are huge; it’s their cumulative effect and direction which undermine the narrative. Most would not be visible to more than a few people alive today. In particular, a very substantial percentage of the specific statements about Lafayette Christian are false. Lafayette Christian was (and is) a Reformed, or Calvinist, school, as Scheeres notes. What she does not note is that Reformed students were a minority; the school had many different types of Christians welcomed and accepted as students, including Catholics (such as me). So here’s a not-exclusive list of further incorrect statements in the book:
1) “Until [1981], we attended a Dutch Calvinist school as well, where all the kids were blonde and lanky like me.” I have in my hand a picture of the graduating class of David and Julia Scheeres and another of my class. In the pictures, only four children have blonde hair. Blonde hair was simply not the norm. This would not matter, except it is an attempt to hide the actual diversity of the school (and probably to vaguely imply Nazi-type leanings).
2) As to Jews, Scheeres says “Jesus-killers, we called them at Lafayette Christian.” This is frankly ludicrous. I suppose it’s possible that the “we” meant some children in private conversations. But the phrasing is clearly meant to imply that’s what the school authorities said and therefore endorsed. Which is, as I say, ludicrous.
3) “At Lafayette Christian, there was no sex ed class.” This is false (it is said in support of “Everything I know about being female I learned from a Kotex box.”) Sex ed was taught every two years to both boys and girls, separately. It was taught to the 5th/6th graders and separately to the 7th/8th graders (the advanced class!) My classes were exactly coterminous with Scheeres’s, so I know they were offered. Again, this is an attempt to paint the school as blinkered and dangerously parochial, which it most assuredly was not.
4) On the first day of school, a high school math teachers’ responds to a girl identifying herself as “Goldstein” with “Jew name, isn’t it?” That is very, very unlikely. Similarly unlikely is that a gravestone from the 19th Century spelled “died” as “dyed.” Again—these are simply fictions designed to make Indiana seem like a horrible place to be. In fact, Scheeres specifically says “My parents’ own state, Indiana, had once been a stronghold of the Ku Klux Klan, and was still a haven for backwater bigots.” (She does not seem to know that the Indiana Klan was much more opposed to Catholics than black people, though.)
5) Scheeres bizarrely claims her mother, a surgeon’s wife, initially feared if she touched her own black adopted baby, “the black would rub off on her hands.”
6) Scheeres says that as a teenager, having just moved to the country (actually, to a rural area only a few miles from my house on the edge of West Lafayette, a fairly cosmopolitan college town), she saw a series of plywood signs “bear[ing] a hand-scrawled message.” This consists of four signs, among them “Rightchuss go to: HEAVEN” and “The end is neer: REPENT.” Maybe. But I lived on the edge of that same countryside at the exact same time, and not only did I never see any billboards advising people to repent (which do crop up sometimes in Indiana), but I never saw any type of hand-made sign. And, what shows this to be false most of all, is the mis-spelling. People in Indiana can spell just fine. But that would not advance the author’s narrative. Much of the flavor of the book paints Indiana as a hybrid of a KKK rally and a liberal’s Facebook feed about WalMart, crudely designed to play to the prejudices of Scheeres’ Berkeley/NPR crowd.
7) I think it highly unlikely that racism was ubiquitous as portrayed in the environments in which David Scheeres was raised. For example, much is made of supposed racism of children in the Kingston pool (which was in West Lafayette, not the country). I spent much of several summers there, and I remember David playing there frequently as well (they lived close to the pool at that time). I don’t remember any racist comments. And Lafayette Christian did not tolerate racism (they were, in fact, appalled at the Dutch Afrikaans behavior in South Africa, because they felt they were tarred with that brush as Dutch co-religionists). There was one family at the school with two boys, one in my class, which was openly racist, but the children had to tell their racist jokes in hushed tones, like dirty jokes, because they knew they would be severely punished if the teachers found out.
Finally, the book takes lots of actual poetic license, too, which leads to anachronisms. Jolt Cola was first marketed in 1985, but she refers to it as existing in 1983/1984. A scene where racist kids at the Kingston pool only leave David alone when a minivan arrives must take place prior to 1981, but the first minivan was sold in 1984. And so on. Again, not a huge deal, but when it undermines confidence in the book for readers—even though, as I say, I think all the key elements of author’s personal story in the book are almost certainly accurate.
Every author has to choose an audience. The tragedy is that by her secondary choices, Scheeres targeted this book to people who already thought Christians were stupid, evil, bigots or all three, and doubtless succeeded in reinforcing those views. (Scheeres also appears to have been instrumental in the closure of Escuela Caribe, though, so the book does appear to have had some other beneficial impact.) A better choice would have been to write a less vitriolic book, targeted to a broader, more open-minded audience than Berkeley drones, that could have been read by average, normal people all over the country (even in barbaric Indiana!) as a guide to what not to do.
I can’t decide quite what to make of “Jesus Land.” It is a compelling memoir of sufferings undergone. I can confirm certain gruesome external details about Julia’s upbringing, so the criticisms comparing it to “A Million Little Pieces” and similar fabulist works are unfair, and I expect that her Escuela Caribe experience was pretty much just as she described it. I knew David Scheeres, and he was an excellent kid with a great heart, just as he is described (unlike his adoptive brother Jerome, whom I also knew, and who was a very bad actor even as a child).
Without going into unnecessary detail, for example, I can confirm personally seeing either welts or scars (at this remove, I cannot say which) all across David’s and Jerome’s backs from whippings with some instrument. This was not regarded as normal, but as Scheeres said, back then nobody would do anything about such things. So while I never knew her parents personally, it seems to me entirely possible they were just as bad as she portrays. (Her father is apparently dead, though she does not mention it. She does not mention what happened to Jerome, but a simple Google search suggests that at least in 2011 he was still living in the same geographic area, because he was arrested for marijuana possession.)
But “Jesus Land” is undermined and worsened by numerous small factual inaccuracies, and frankly, fictions. One could say that these are poetic license. But they are not poetic. Nor are they accidental. Rather, they are all in the service of what is the book’s prime vice, which is that it is written for, and only for, a specific audience and target market. That market is leftist agnostics and atheists who have contempt not only for Christianity but for every person who lives in flyover country. You see this in that Scheeres repeatedly notes she lives in Berkeley, in order to signal to the reader she is Not That Kind Of Person. Only the Right Kind Of Person, of course, is invited onto NPR and other media outlets; hence the continual dripping contempt for anyone not fitting the author’s mold of A Desirable Person (which apparently zero people in Indiana do).
One possible response is “So”? Leftist atheists need love, and books directed at them, too. But the problem with small inaccuracies, or falsehoods, is that they undermine confidence in the rest of the narrative. What also undermines and coarsens the book is the cardboard nature of everyone portrayed. They all are grossly deficient in every way, and characterized as such with contemptuous adjectives. Bus drivers are “fat.” French teachers teach “in a constipated voice.” The barrage of contempt is never-ending and highly distracting. (It only lets up when the author talks about what is apparently the real “Jesus Land,” namely Berkeley.)
Anyway, on the inaccuracies. None are huge; it’s their cumulative effect and direction which undermine the narrative. Most would not be visible to more than a few people alive today. In particular, a very substantial percentage of the specific statements about Lafayette Christian are false. Lafayette Christian was (and is) a Reformed, or Calvinist, school, as Scheeres notes. What she does not note is that Reformed students were a minority; the school had many different types of Christians welcomed and accepted as students, including Catholics (such as me). So here’s a not-exclusive list of further incorrect statements in the book:
1) “Until [1981], we attended a Dutch Calvinist school as well, where all the kids were blonde and lanky like me.” I have in my hand a picture of the graduating class of David and Julia Scheeres and another of my class. In the pictures, only four children have blonde hair. Blonde hair was simply not the norm. This would not matter, except it is an attempt to hide the actual diversity of the school (and probably to vaguely imply Nazi-type leanings).
2) As to Jews, Scheeres says “Jesus-killers, we called them at Lafayette Christian.” This is frankly ludicrous. I suppose it’s possible that the “we” meant some children in private conversations. But the phrasing is clearly meant to imply that’s what the school authorities said and therefore endorsed. Which is, as I say, ludicrous.
3) “At Lafayette Christian, there was no sex ed class.” This is false (it is said in support of “Everything I know about being female I learned from a Kotex box.”) Sex ed was taught every two years to both boys and girls, separately. It was taught to the 5th/6th graders and separately to the 7th/8th graders (the advanced class!) My classes were exactly coterminous with Scheeres’s, so I know they were offered. Again, this is an attempt to paint the school as blinkered and dangerously parochial, which it most assuredly was not.
4) On the first day of school, a high school math teachers’ responds to a girl identifying herself as “Goldstein” with “Jew name, isn’t it?” That is very, very unlikely. Similarly unlikely is that a gravestone from the 19th Century spelled “died” as “dyed.” Again—these are simply fictions designed to make Indiana seem like a horrible place to be. In fact, Scheeres specifically says “My parents’ own state, Indiana, had once been a stronghold of the Ku Klux Klan, and was still a haven for backwater bigots.” (She does not seem to know that the Indiana Klan was much more opposed to Catholics than black people, though.)
5) Scheeres bizarrely claims her mother, a surgeon’s wife, initially feared if she touched her own black adopted baby, “the black would rub off on her hands.”
6) Scheeres says that as a teenager, having just moved to the country (actually, to a rural area only a few miles from my house on the edge of West Lafayette, a fairly cosmopolitan college town), she saw a series of plywood signs “bear[ing] a hand-scrawled message.” This consists of four signs, among them “Rightchuss go to: HEAVEN” and “The end is neer: REPENT.” Maybe. But I lived on the edge of that same countryside at the exact same time, and not only did I never see any billboards advising people to repent (which do crop up sometimes in Indiana), but I never saw any type of hand-made sign. And, what shows this to be false most of all, is the mis-spelling. People in Indiana can spell just fine. But that would not advance the author’s narrative. Much of the flavor of the book paints Indiana as a hybrid of a KKK rally and a liberal’s Facebook feed about WalMart, crudely designed to play to the prejudices of Scheeres’ Berkeley/NPR crowd.
7) I think it highly unlikely that racism was ubiquitous as portrayed in the environments in which David Scheeres was raised. For example, much is made of supposed racism of children in the Kingston pool (which was in West Lafayette, not the country). I spent much of several summers there, and I remember David playing there frequently as well (they lived close to the pool at that time). I don’t remember any racist comments. And Lafayette Christian did not tolerate racism (they were, in fact, appalled at the Dutch Afrikaans behavior in South Africa, because they felt they were tarred with that brush as Dutch co-religionists). There was one family at the school with two boys, one in my class, which was openly racist, but the children had to tell their racist jokes in hushed tones, like dirty jokes, because they knew they would be severely punished if the teachers found out.
Finally, the book takes lots of actual poetic license, too, which leads to anachronisms. Jolt Cola was first marketed in 1985, but she refers to it as existing in 1983/1984. A scene where racist kids at the Kingston pool only leave David alone when a minivan arrives must take place prior to 1981, but the first minivan was sold in 1984. And so on. Again, not a huge deal, but when it undermines confidence in the book for readers—even though, as I say, I think all the key elements of author’s personal story in the book are almost certainly accurate.
Every author has to choose an audience. The tragedy is that by her secondary choices, Scheeres targeted this book to people who already thought Christians were stupid, evil, bigots or all three, and doubtless succeeded in reinforcing those views. (Scheeres also appears to have been instrumental in the closure of Escuela Caribe, though, so the book does appear to have had some other beneficial impact.) A better choice would have been to write a less vitriolic book, targeted to a broader, more open-minded audience than Berkeley drones, that could have been read by average, normal people all over the country (even in barbaric Indiana!) as a guide to what not to do.
July 24, 2008
Julia Scheeres's memoir is perhaps one of the most haunting, powerful memoirs I've read. She details the heart-wrenching abuse she endured at the hands of her Christian family and the abusive reform school she attended with her adopted African American brother in the Dominican Republic. Her tale of severe sexual, emotional, physical, and religious abuse highlights issues of power and domination that are sometimes present in the American church. However, even as I wept for her and her brother while reading her story, I was drawn to hope, not to hatred. Scheeres states that she is not a Christian--and after reading her story, I certainly empathise with that decision--and yet I myself was drawn more to God as I ached for her and for the abuse she endured. I've not left a painful book more broken for the author, and yet I've not left a book more filled with a sense of God's own weeping on our behalf--both Julia's and mine.
November 22, 2022
“Raising those black boys as if they were family. Talk about Christian sacrifice.”
Julia Scheeres’ memoir is a chronicle of a childhood spent in a Christian-fundamentalist nightmare. And it’s not just HER nightmare; when Julia was very young her parents decided that adopting black children would be the ultimate test of their religious convictions and zeal. Thus came David—and later, when it was decided that David needed a “black playmate,” came Jerome.
Discipline (read: indoctrination) in the Scheeres household was swift and strict, but doubly so for the adopted (read: black) children.
“I don’t get whipped like they do when I talk back or get caught in a lie. I get grounded. I’m spared the rod, and it’s a dirty privilege that makes me feel guilty. I hate sharing genes with the man who hurts them, our father. Our father, who heals the sick and dying by day, and causes injury at night.”
This uneven (read: racist) application of Proverbs 13:24 (spare the rod, spoil the child) served to segregate David and Jerome from the rest of the family. But, in spite of all the obvious inequalities, David and Julia remained close and protective of one another.
As the children grew older they started to chafe under the constraints imposed upon them by their religiously zealous parents. Jerome ran away. Julia and her brother David were ultimately sent to a Christian reform school in the Dominican Republic; a dubious and horrific little hellhole called “Escuela Caribe.”
“I still can’t believe that a place like Escuela Caribe exists, and that I find myself enrolled in it. All I did was try to wring some happiness from life, a little fun and a little affection, and as a result I was banished to an island colony ruled by sadistic Jesus freaks.”
Once securely incarcerated at EC, the theological indoctrination was stepped up.
“I swallow dryly. “The Rapture’s due any day now,” he shouts… “The signs of the End Times are here, just like the Book of Revelation prophesized. We’ve got nuclear bombs and legalized abortion and gay homos on prime-time TV. Evil surrounds us.” I don’t recall the Bible mentioning any of those things, but perhaps I wasn’t reading it hard enough.”
And…
“The Pastor leans forward until his face is a few inches from mine, blocking out the rest of the room. His breath smells of boiled cabbage… “I took that little whore, and I stripped her naked and I beat her black and blue,” The Pastor says, his voice a hoarse whisper. “Beat the Devil right out of her. And believe you me, I would not hesitate to do it again.””
Wouldn’t it be great if evangelical philosophy could stand on its own merits? If the brain-washing of children wasn’t essential to its continued existence? Imagine a world where parents encouraged and promoted critical thinking; a world where a mother could simply say, “Your father and I believe the Prophet Muhammad took a trip to heaven on a winged horse” or “Your father and I pray to Ganesha who has four arms and the head of an elephant” or “Your father and I believe a rib-woman ate fruit from a magic tree” and the kids could have all the time they needed to think this through…
…but instead we have places like Escuela Caribe and the Magdalene Asylums and the infamous Canadian “residential schools”—each an example of church sanctioned child abuse.
Excluding the epilogue, Jesus Land isn’t an indictment of faith. It is simply an accounting. It is an honest, often self-deprecating, autobiography—courageously written and, for me, uncomfortably close to home.
“…I can no longer have blind faith in creeds because I am no longer blind.” ~Julia Scheeres, 2005
"The fact is that far more crime and child abuse has been committed by zealots in the name of God, Jesus and Mohammed than has ever been committed in the name of Satan. Many people don’t like that statement, but few can argue with it.” ~Carl Sagan, 1995
Julia Scheeres’ memoir is a chronicle of a childhood spent in a Christian-fundamentalist nightmare. And it’s not just HER nightmare; when Julia was very young her parents decided that adopting black children would be the ultimate test of their religious convictions and zeal. Thus came David—and later, when it was decided that David needed a “black playmate,” came Jerome.
Discipline (read: indoctrination) in the Scheeres household was swift and strict, but doubly so for the adopted (read: black) children.
“I don’t get whipped like they do when I talk back or get caught in a lie. I get grounded. I’m spared the rod, and it’s a dirty privilege that makes me feel guilty. I hate sharing genes with the man who hurts them, our father. Our father, who heals the sick and dying by day, and causes injury at night.”
This uneven (read: racist) application of Proverbs 13:24 (spare the rod, spoil the child) served to segregate David and Jerome from the rest of the family. But, in spite of all the obvious inequalities, David and Julia remained close and protective of one another.
As the children grew older they started to chafe under the constraints imposed upon them by their religiously zealous parents. Jerome ran away. Julia and her brother David were ultimately sent to a Christian reform school in the Dominican Republic; a dubious and horrific little hellhole called “Escuela Caribe.”
“I still can’t believe that a place like Escuela Caribe exists, and that I find myself enrolled in it. All I did was try to wring some happiness from life, a little fun and a little affection, and as a result I was banished to an island colony ruled by sadistic Jesus freaks.”
Once securely incarcerated at EC, the theological indoctrination was stepped up.
“I swallow dryly. “The Rapture’s due any day now,” he shouts… “The signs of the End Times are here, just like the Book of Revelation prophesized. We’ve got nuclear bombs and legalized abortion and gay homos on prime-time TV. Evil surrounds us.” I don’t recall the Bible mentioning any of those things, but perhaps I wasn’t reading it hard enough.”
And…
“The Pastor leans forward until his face is a few inches from mine, blocking out the rest of the room. His breath smells of boiled cabbage… “I took that little whore, and I stripped her naked and I beat her black and blue,” The Pastor says, his voice a hoarse whisper. “Beat the Devil right out of her. And believe you me, I would not hesitate to do it again.””
Wouldn’t it be great if evangelical philosophy could stand on its own merits? If the brain-washing of children wasn’t essential to its continued existence? Imagine a world where parents encouraged and promoted critical thinking; a world where a mother could simply say, “Your father and I believe the Prophet Muhammad took a trip to heaven on a winged horse” or “Your father and I pray to Ganesha who has four arms and the head of an elephant” or “Your father and I believe a rib-woman ate fruit from a magic tree” and the kids could have all the time they needed to think this through…
…but instead we have places like Escuela Caribe and the Magdalene Asylums and the infamous Canadian “residential schools”—each an example of church sanctioned child abuse.
Excluding the epilogue, Jesus Land isn’t an indictment of faith. It is simply an accounting. It is an honest, often self-deprecating, autobiography—courageously written and, for me, uncomfortably close to home.
“…I can no longer have blind faith in creeds because I am no longer blind.” ~Julia Scheeres, 2005
"The fact is that far more crime and child abuse has been committed by zealots in the name of God, Jesus and Mohammed than has ever been committed in the name of Satan. Many people don’t like that statement, but few can argue with it.” ~Carl Sagan, 1995
October 1, 2014
I cried when I read the last line of Julia Scheeres tragic and touching memoir. Scheeres sucked me into her life and I couldn't put the book down for a second. My blood boiled at several points through out the book. Is it truly possible that people can be so heartless and cruel? Is it truly possible that while I was living a carefree childhood, Scheeres (who is only two years older than me) was living in a private hell? Jesus Land reads like a well paced, well written novel but I had to keep reminding myself that it wasn't fiction - this really happened.
Jesus Land touches on many different universal themes of Scheeres life from religious zealousness to blatant racism to misogyny and sexual abuse. It's also a testament to the human spirit and the power of forged relationships. The ties of family not necessarily has to be linked by blood. Anyone, whether you're black or white, male or female, young or old, gay or straight can glean something from this touching, heartfelt and honest memoir. Coming from a fairly religious family myself, I can truly relate with the damage that can be done to individuals and families all in the name of Jesus.
Jesus Land touches on many different universal themes of Scheeres life from religious zealousness to blatant racism to misogyny and sexual abuse. It's also a testament to the human spirit and the power of forged relationships. The ties of family not necessarily has to be linked by blood. Anyone, whether you're black or white, male or female, young or old, gay or straight can glean something from this touching, heartfelt and honest memoir. Coming from a fairly religious family myself, I can truly relate with the damage that can be done to individuals and families all in the name of Jesus.
March 6, 2008
Yeah, it was entertaining, the way a Lifetime movie is entertaining. I read it in about three hours, and I'm a slow reader. Scheeres's writing is catchy, if a bit high falutin' in parts. I had to occasionally put this book down, roll my eyes, and laugh.
Such dysfunction! Every childhood abuse you can imagine is superficially touched upon here. Scheeres was molested by her bad adopted black brother (whereabouts unknown), Scheeres's dead, good, adopted black brother was beaten like a slave by her evil, abusive father (a two dimensional character if ever there was one) and tried to commit suicide, and her mother was mean (and barely mentioned except that she gave money to missionaries, and once screenplay-ly rapped upon a window when Scheeres and her brother were having picturesque fun spraying each other with a hose in their garden).
All of this dysfunction made Scheeres become a teen alcoholic, a dependency she mentioned casually when it served to further her plot, but which wasn't mentioned once she went to Jesus camp.
The town in which she lives is so xenophobic the prescence of two black boys is cause for bad bullies (including authority figures like teachers) to frequently abuse her and her good black brother (but not the bad black brother, he was removed from the abuse because he was so abusive himself), yet Scheeres presented a veritable Rainbow Coalition of ethnic and religious minorities who attended her school, with which she of course befriended and even loved, because she's an underdog, too, and oh, so much more enlightened than anyone else who lived in her town.
Scheeres volunteered to go to some religious camp to which her evil parents sent her good, adopted black brother because her parents were evil like that, and she did a passable job describing it, but only because she has read many military and possibly Holocaust memoirs.
It is impossible to verify any of the shit that Scheeres said happened in this concentration camp of a religious retreat, nor to verify any of the myriad of abuses she says happened to her before she went to the Jesus concentration camp. It is impossible to verify any of the shit she said happened to her, ever.
I can believe she had a black brother who died in a car accident. I can believe she went to some Jesus camp. That's all I can believe. This isn't as made up a "memoir" as "A Million Little Pieces", but it's at least as false as "Running With Scissors".
Such dysfunction! Every childhood abuse you can imagine is superficially touched upon here. Scheeres was molested by her bad adopted black brother (whereabouts unknown), Scheeres's dead, good, adopted black brother was beaten like a slave by her evil, abusive father (a two dimensional character if ever there was one) and tried to commit suicide, and her mother was mean (and barely mentioned except that she gave money to missionaries, and once screenplay-ly rapped upon a window when Scheeres and her brother were having picturesque fun spraying each other with a hose in their garden).
All of this dysfunction made Scheeres become a teen alcoholic, a dependency she mentioned casually when it served to further her plot, but which wasn't mentioned once she went to Jesus camp.
The town in which she lives is so xenophobic the prescence of two black boys is cause for bad bullies (including authority figures like teachers) to frequently abuse her and her good black brother (but not the bad black brother, he was removed from the abuse because he was so abusive himself), yet Scheeres presented a veritable Rainbow Coalition of ethnic and religious minorities who attended her school, with which she of course befriended and even loved, because she's an underdog, too, and oh, so much more enlightened than anyone else who lived in her town.
Scheeres volunteered to go to some religious camp to which her evil parents sent her good, adopted black brother because her parents were evil like that, and she did a passable job describing it, but only because she has read many military and possibly Holocaust memoirs.
It is impossible to verify any of the shit that Scheeres said happened in this concentration camp of a religious retreat, nor to verify any of the myriad of abuses she says happened to her before she went to the Jesus concentration camp. It is impossible to verify any of the shit she said happened to her, ever.
I can believe she had a black brother who died in a car accident. I can believe she went to some Jesus camp. That's all I can believe. This isn't as made up a "memoir" as "A Million Little Pieces", but it's at least as false as "Running With Scissors".
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
July 7, 2007
As posted in [http://www.amazon.com]:
Oh. My. Goodness! Julia writes this honest memoir of her Christian childhood. However, the Christian family is nothing but a facade to impress the members of the local Calvinist church. Julia's mom is obsessed with missionaries and constantly plays Christian music. Her eyes is like those of a hawk, always watching the kids...and spying with the intercom as well.
Julia's surgeon father is worse. He's the one that beats Julia's adopted Black father with 2x4's until they're covered with welts or get broken bones. Julia feels guilty but cannot do anything. So, instead, she turns to alcohol and sex.
While I've never suffered physical abuse, I was familiar with many aspects of Christian living. Such are constant Christian music playing, Christian adages, Scripture throwing and memorizing, letter writing to missionaries, church attendance and many more. However, Julia didn't write the memoir about her perfect Christian childhood. She wrote about the dark horrors she and her brothers suffered through...in the name of Christianity.
And if that wasn't bad, things become worse when David and Julia are sent to the Dominican Republic to a Christian reform school. In an eerie way, it reminded me of a Bible college I once attended for a semester.
Gut-wrenching. Appalling. Unbelieveable. Despite the horrors of Christianity's dark secrets and hypocrisy, Julia's memoirs was an interesting read. At the end is an interview with Julia.
Oh. My. Goodness! Julia writes this honest memoir of her Christian childhood. However, the Christian family is nothing but a facade to impress the members of the local Calvinist church. Julia's mom is obsessed with missionaries and constantly plays Christian music. Her eyes is like those of a hawk, always watching the kids...and spying with the intercom as well.
Julia's surgeon father is worse. He's the one that beats Julia's adopted Black father with 2x4's until they're covered with welts or get broken bones. Julia feels guilty but cannot do anything. So, instead, she turns to alcohol and sex.
While I've never suffered physical abuse, I was familiar with many aspects of Christian living. Such are constant Christian music playing, Christian adages, Scripture throwing and memorizing, letter writing to missionaries, church attendance and many more. However, Julia didn't write the memoir about her perfect Christian childhood. She wrote about the dark horrors she and her brothers suffered through...in the name of Christianity.
And if that wasn't bad, things become worse when David and Julia are sent to the Dominican Republic to a Christian reform school. In an eerie way, it reminded me of a Bible college I once attended for a semester.
Gut-wrenching. Appalling. Unbelieveable. Despite the horrors of Christianity's dark secrets and hypocrisy, Julia's memoirs was an interesting read. At the end is an interview with Julia.
June 23, 2017
***NO SPOILERS***
Heartbreaking, shocking, touching, angering. This book is these things and more. Like The Glass Castle: A Memoir, Jesus Land is a memoir of an imperfect--to put it mildly--childhood. This riveting account opens with Julia Scheeres as a desperate sixteen-year-old. She recounts incidents from her younger years in plentiful flashbacks replete with vivid and heart-rending detail.
The memoir's strength lies in Scheeres's ability to make her young self and her "twin" adopted brother, David, come to life. Quite impressively, this is told in Scheeres's voice, but David's personality seems just as complete and three-dimensional as Scheeres's. She and her brother suffer in unspeakable ways, and readers feel each devastation and each injustice acutely. She couldn't have accomplished this with a cardboard rendering of this twin she loves to her very core. Their bond is truly remarkable and heart-warming and almost hard to believe. To be touched by the connection these two share is to feel better about humanity as a whole.
On the general technical level, Scheeres's memoir needed some tweaking. A noticeable tone-change slices the story into a distinct first and second half. Throughout this first half, Scheeres recounted occurrences with a certain emotional detachment while still stirring up plenty of emotion. What Scheeres presented is deeply unsettling and sad, but readers are allowed to feel those things on their own. During the second half, though, Scheeres's bitterness sneaked in. Her hatred for her reform school is palpable. Certainly, this is understandable; however, in the interest of consistency, the tone should have maintained its neutrality. In some ways an aloof recounting is more powerful; it lends the writing a certain sophistication. The first half is stronger than the second for this reason.
The best memoirs are true tell-alls, and Scheeres spared no details; nevertheless, she did run into some problems making judgment calls as to what was appropriate and inappropriate to include. Although her intimate writing style is one of her memoir's strengths, she veered toward the gratuitous at least one time. These instances stand out starkly and detract from an otherwise mature recounting. Admittedly, memoir-writing can be tricky, as the author has to decide what makes sense to expose to the world in the name of authenticity.
A twist in the memoir's final pages upends the story and confirms the adage that in many ways “truth is stranger than fiction.” Truth also can be worlds more devastating.
Final verdict: Four stars and an enthusiastic recommendation to fans of The Glass Castle.
Heartbreaking, shocking, touching, angering. This book is these things and more. Like The Glass Castle: A Memoir, Jesus Land is a memoir of an imperfect--to put it mildly--childhood. This riveting account opens with Julia Scheeres as a desperate sixteen-year-old. She recounts incidents from her younger years in plentiful flashbacks replete with vivid and heart-rending detail.
The memoir's strength lies in Scheeres's ability to make her young self and her "twin" adopted brother, David, come to life. Quite impressively, this is told in Scheeres's voice, but David's personality seems just as complete and three-dimensional as Scheeres's. She and her brother suffer in unspeakable ways, and readers feel each devastation and each injustice acutely. She couldn't have accomplished this with a cardboard rendering of this twin she loves to her very core. Their bond is truly remarkable and heart-warming and almost hard to believe. To be touched by the connection these two share is to feel better about humanity as a whole.
On the general technical level, Scheeres's memoir needed some tweaking. A noticeable tone-change slices the story into a distinct first and second half. Throughout this first half, Scheeres recounted occurrences with a certain emotional detachment while still stirring up plenty of emotion. What Scheeres presented is deeply unsettling and sad, but readers are allowed to feel those things on their own. During the second half, though, Scheeres's bitterness sneaked in. Her hatred for her reform school is palpable. Certainly, this is understandable; however, in the interest of consistency, the tone should have maintained its neutrality. In some ways an aloof recounting is more powerful; it lends the writing a certain sophistication. The first half is stronger than the second for this reason.
The best memoirs are true tell-alls, and Scheeres spared no details; nevertheless, she did run into some problems making judgment calls as to what was appropriate and inappropriate to include. Although her intimate writing style is one of her memoir's strengths, she veered toward the gratuitous at least one time. These instances stand out starkly and detract from an otherwise mature recounting. Admittedly, memoir-writing can be tricky, as the author has to decide what makes sense to expose to the world in the name of authenticity.
A twist in the memoir's final pages upends the story and confirms the adage that in many ways “truth is stranger than fiction.” Truth also can be worlds more devastating.
Final verdict: Four stars and an enthusiastic recommendation to fans of The Glass Castle.
September 25, 2015
This is an oldie!
I read this long before I was writing reviews ---
I was looking through my Friday reviews this morning by many of you charming people --when I came across this book again.
This book is another reminder of how religion can go wrong-wrong-wrong!
**NOTE: Its kinda-creepy-weird reading...(hard to pull yourself away)....but not pleasant!
I read this long before I was writing reviews ---
I was looking through my Friday reviews this morning by many of you charming people --when I came across this book again.
This book is another reminder of how religion can go wrong-wrong-wrong!
**NOTE: Its kinda-creepy-weird reading...(hard to pull yourself away)....but not pleasant!
October 26, 2025
From the very first chapter, Scheeres pulls you into a world of contradictions: Midwestern piety laced with racial tension, familial dysfunction cloaked in religious righteousness, and the fierce bond between two siblings navigating a world that seems determined to break them. Her writing is both lyrical and unflinching, capturing the pain, resilience, and quiet acts of rebellion that define her coming-of-age story.
What makes Jesus Land so powerful is its emotional honesty. Scheeres doesn’t shy away from the brutal realities she and her adopted brother David faced—whether at home or in the so-called Christian reform school in the Dominican Republic. Yet amid the darkness, there’s a thread of love and loyalty that shines through, making this memoir not just a tale of survival, but a testament to the human spirit.
I found myself deeply moved by Scheeres’ courage and clarity. Her story is a reminder that truth-telling can be an act of healing, and that even in the most oppressive circumstances, connection and compassion can endure.
Highly recommended for readers who appreciate memoirs that challenge, illuminate, and inspire.
What makes Jesus Land so powerful is its emotional honesty. Scheeres doesn’t shy away from the brutal realities she and her adopted brother David faced—whether at home or in the so-called Christian reform school in the Dominican Republic. Yet amid the darkness, there’s a thread of love and loyalty that shines through, making this memoir not just a tale of survival, but a testament to the human spirit.
I found myself deeply moved by Scheeres’ courage and clarity. Her story is a reminder that truth-telling can be an act of healing, and that even in the most oppressive circumstances, connection and compassion can endure.
Highly recommended for readers who appreciate memoirs that challenge, illuminate, and inspire.
October 1, 2013
I was told not to focus on the cover, that this book was not about religion. The person who told me so, was correct. The book was about what people do in the name of religion. It was also about bigotry and racism. This book is a Memior, written by a woman who's strictly devout Midwestern Calvinist white parents adopted two young black boys to raise with their 4 children. The woman of the story is three years old at the time, the same age as the youngest black boy. The story is told in the voice of the young girl from the age of 16 and 17, with flash backs to times during the years they were growing up.
This book is a tradgity, in every sense of the word. The parents are extreme, the physical punishments by the father are extreme, and then, if that is not enough, the boy and girl are both sent to a Religious reform school in the Dominican Republic. Everything is extreme there!
There is no happy ending, except that the story is told. The author took half of her life time to tell it, in memory of her brother.
This book is a tradgity, in every sense of the word. The parents are extreme, the physical punishments by the father are extreme, and then, if that is not enough, the boy and girl are both sent to a Religious reform school in the Dominican Republic. Everything is extreme there!
There is no happy ending, except that the story is told. The author took half of her life time to tell it, in memory of her brother.
October 28, 2007
The events in this memoir are incredibly tragic, as is the approach to explaining them. Overall, a compelling childhood presented in a childish way. The relationship between David and Julia is heartbreaking. A black adopted brother, the privileged white biological daughter that loves him. It took me a long time to finish this book. It was interesting enough, and well written, but there was something terribly offensive about it. The author tried very hard to be casual about things that were obviously painful, which is something I tend to dislike in authors. It was one of those "I was down, fighting off a hangover and wondering if I was pregnant" type reads. I wish I could write a better review, but it just left me feeling incomplete.
July 17, 2022
Quite a difficult book to read. I can't imagine how Julia Scheeres lived it. The fact that it was called "character building" is disgraceful. There were parts that made me sick to my stomach. By the end I had tears in my eyes.
June 27, 2019
3.5***
This is a memoir of growing up with parents who adhered to a religious fundamentalism but who were abusive to their children. Scheeres was the youngest child in the family, and the last biological child born to her parents, who subsequently adopted two African American boys. David, was practically Julia’s twin, with only a month or so difference in their birthdates. They grew up as brother and sister, and shared dreams of one day growing up and moving to Florida together. When David and Julia were teens, they rebelled against their strict upbringing with the result that their parents sent them to a school in the Dominican Republic – a sort of “boot camp” to get them right with Jesus.
The first half of the book details their childhood and early school experiences. The racial prejudice aimed at David, and from which Julia tried to protect her brother, with the result that she was also ostracized in their small midwestern town.
The second half of the book focuses on the time they spent at Escuela Caribe, and what they had to endure there to “prove” to the people running the school and to their parents that they “deserved” to return to their home in Indiana.
Their mother was clearly neglectful, ignoring the children’s complaints of mistreatment at school, and barely providing them with food, shelter and clothing. But their father. He may have been a surgeon, but he was physically abusive, particularly to the adopted boys. Why was he never prosecuted!?!?!
Yet the love she and David shared, the unbreakable bond of brother and sister, shine through. Towards the end of their time at Escuela Caribe, she writes:
We are young, and we have our entire lives ahead of us. Together, we have survived racism and religion. Together, we are strong. Together, we can do anything.
Life may not be fair, but when you have someone to believe in, life can be managed, and sometimes, even miraculous.
After everything else falls away, we shall remain brother and sister. Family.
This is a memoir of growing up with parents who adhered to a religious fundamentalism but who were abusive to their children. Scheeres was the youngest child in the family, and the last biological child born to her parents, who subsequently adopted two African American boys. David, was practically Julia’s twin, with only a month or so difference in their birthdates. They grew up as brother and sister, and shared dreams of one day growing up and moving to Florida together. When David and Julia were teens, they rebelled against their strict upbringing with the result that their parents sent them to a school in the Dominican Republic – a sort of “boot camp” to get them right with Jesus.
The first half of the book details their childhood and early school experiences. The racial prejudice aimed at David, and from which Julia tried to protect her brother, with the result that she was also ostracized in their small midwestern town.
The second half of the book focuses on the time they spent at Escuela Caribe, and what they had to endure there to “prove” to the people running the school and to their parents that they “deserved” to return to their home in Indiana.
Their mother was clearly neglectful, ignoring the children’s complaints of mistreatment at school, and barely providing them with food, shelter and clothing. But their father. He may have been a surgeon, but he was physically abusive, particularly to the adopted boys. Why was he never prosecuted!?!?!
Yet the love she and David shared, the unbreakable bond of brother and sister, shine through. Towards the end of their time at Escuela Caribe, she writes:
We are young, and we have our entire lives ahead of us. Together, we have survived racism and religion. Together, we are strong. Together, we can do anything.
Life may not be fair, but when you have someone to believe in, life can be managed, and sometimes, even miraculous.
After everything else falls away, we shall remain brother and sister. Family.
September 18, 2007
Such a tragic, heart breaking story that once again, just makes me want to go find some kid and just hug them. The amount of abuse that these kids went through made for a tough read. It's interesting to read this after The Glass Castle and Running with Scissors, other stories about equally difficult childhoods, but each author had different ways to protect themselves. Running with Scissors was about using humor in the face of pure shit. Glass Castle had indeed, a wall around how awful a childhood could be. Julia's story was about staying alive by staying together... and losing that too. I'll remember this story for a very long time.
March 1, 2016
What is a Christian? Really. I was reading an article on CNN about Rob Bell’s new book Love Wins: A Book About Heaven Hell and the Fate of Every Person Who Ever Lived and about half-way through the article there’s a girl CNN was asking about Bell. From the article: “...Today she attends a non-denominational church and self-identifies as a “Christ follower” but bristles at being called a Christian.”
But what does that even mean? Doesn’t Christian literally mean, “Christ-Follower?” Christianity is such a vast VAST umbrella. We have all these different groups of Christians, each one working so diligently to distinguish themselves semantically from all the false/heretical Christians. It’s crazy, and mind-numbing.
So, I’ll repeat my question, what is a Christian? If a Christian is a “Christ follower,” then what did Christ teach? What are we to follow?
Myself? I’ve concluded Christians find themselves in a Catch-22 of who they should be. “The World” (or Shakespeare at least) tells us, “This above all: to thine own self be true.” I think there’s the desire in every human being to follow that mantra. But how does a Christian do that? If people are fallen, depraved, and innately bad, being true to yourself means to be true to evil. Yet, if one says, “Christians should be true to God, Christianity, or it’s ideals,” they’d be giving Christians an impossible task, setting them up for failure and hypocrisy.
There’s the rub, if you’re a Christian. If you claim sin is wrong, yet commit sin – which you will - you are labeled a hypocrite. If you are true to yourself, you sin... unless you’re a naturally sinless person. (I would be hesitant to make that claim.) Again, you’re a hypocrite.
I’m worried that this is going to digress into a harangue on hamartiology rather than a review of a moving and troubling memoir.
I’m a sucker for a good memoir, especially one I can relate to. I can relate to this one. It revolves around Julia and her adopted African-American brother, David. I have an adopted Haitian-American brother as well. (Technically, it’s more complicated than “adopted,” but we’ll save that for another book review.) She spent half the book (6 months) in the Dominican Republic. I spent roughly 2 years in Haiti. Julia had to deal with feelings of abandoning her brother based on situations she could and could not control. I have dealt with this as well.
It’s easy to believe we live in a post-race world. We have a black president. Nobody bats an eye at inter-racial couples. Too many links came up when I googled “White Minority America” in order to pick one for my next sentence. Go ahead and google it yourself.
“Maybe you’re right,” you say, “but there’s still racism.”
That’s my point. But I believe it’s an understated point. In the midst of the race card being played every 3.5 seconds, I believe it’s an understated point. (You can get that statistic HERE.) Sometimes life seems so certain and peaceful on top that you don’t realize there’s a harsh under-tow waiting to carry you out to sea. Julia and I both had to confront racism that lurked just out of view. From the kids and teachers using phrases like, “acting white” or “acting black,” to ******** never mind. I’m editing this part out. (When you don’t post anonymously online you live in constant fear of telling the truth.)
What is a racist? During the discussion in book club, a fellow member asked the question: “Two bars right next to each other, one’s full of white people, one’s full of black people, which one do you go in?” He gave the pause to think, “Me? I’m going in the one with the white people.” Another pause. “Does that make me a racist?”
I may have become hyper-sensitive to racism, or at least to certain aspects of racism. This is one of my problems with the book. I believe Julia is hyper-sensitive to it as well. Any time someone has a problem with her brother David, she blames it on race.
Can you point out someone’s racial differences, or is that racist? ...Is pointing them out the same thing as acknowledging them?
There’s a part in the book where David makes fun of himself, accentuating his African features. He’s laughing, the other kids in the class are laughing. Julia is ticked. She makes the laudable observation that, “David had not yet learned that there’s a difference between having an audience and having friends.”
But was that a black/white thing? David was low on the social totem pole, yes. But I have a very diverse crowd of low totem pole kids that use self-deprecating humor to climb higher. And it certainly makes them more agreeable than the sulkers who are bitter about not being on the top. Is David’s internalized racism truly racism? Are the kids that laughed at him racist?
While Scheers writes of cases of clear, cut and dried racism – such as the farmer boys in the pickup truck, and the instances at the swimming pool – she also writes of other instances that make me question the veracity (?) necessity (?) of her playing the race card.
The two key conflicts in this book:
1.) determining racism/ fighting against it
2.) true Christianity vs. religiosity vs. pure hypocrisy (especially with parents)
I’m a sucker for a good memoir, but I’m also very skeptical of them. There’s a certain power that comes with writing history – especially when the other side’s story won’t come out. Scheers comes from an apparently loveless Christian home. A question I had throughout the book is, was she writing from the perspective of her young self, or was she writing it from an adult perspective? It was rather ambiguous. She casts her parents in a very negative light, shedding the light on their hypocrisy. And, while I don’t want to act like I agree with their style of parenting or condone it, I wonder what gives her the right to cast the first stone? By her own admission she was not blameless. And we don’t get to hear her parent’s version of the events. I can’t imagine they knew what her brother Jerome was doing to her. Did they know she was getting drunk before school and sneaking a boy up to see her at night? If so, what is the correct response? Reform school doesn’t seem like that bad of an idea. So what gives her the right to cast the stone without them being able to defend themselves? Is it because she’s no longer a Christian that she herself is allowed to sin, yet condemn others for it?
Is that what gives all non-Christians the right? As long as you don’t claim absolutes you can do what you want without fear of messing up, yet attack those who do mess up because they claim absolutes, yet can’t live by them.
Maybe Scheer’s parents were bad Christians. Maybe that’s an understatement, I don’t know them. But to blanket all Christianity under the umbrella of gross hypocrisy is disingenuous and dishonest.
I grew up in Pennsylvania looking down my nose at the Mid-West. I was a scant few hours away from NYC, Philadelphia, D.C. What does the Mid-West have? Corn, hicks, tornados, and land-lock syndrome. And my wife. Yes, we do have corn and hicks. Yes, a tornado jumped over my house last summer. But we’ve got the Windy City, Motown, and the 2007 Super Bowl winning Colts... (yikes, I’m still a Steelers fan...) The beaches at Lake Michigan are legit. I didn’t believe it either until I went there. The people out here are friendly and laid back. Scheers playing to the stereotypes of the Midwest got on my nerves. (My wife – a staunch defender of our section of the United States – has been banned from reading this book for that very reason. She would be beyond unhappy with Scheers portrayal of her homeland.) I realize that was her experience growing up here, and I respect that. I just felt like the depiction was a little self-serving and inaccurate.
So, if I had so many problems with the book, why did I give it 4 stars? Answer: *ding ding ding* I loved it. I loved it. It made me ponder my own faith, and whether I was speaking out enough. It seemed heartfelt, and tragic, and warm, and a bunch of other clichés that make you think of heartfelt, and tragic and warm. It made me wonder how Christians (and my interesting breed of Christianity in particular) are viewed by others – Christians and non-Christians alike. Christians are often told not to offend, but if people find offense, let them take it with the Gospel. While I agree in part, I wonder if that’s a cop-out. Like the cop-out of faith, or the cop-out of never saved. (Not to be confused with true faith, or the true Gospel, etc...)
There are a lot of things wrong with my faith. (Individual) The problem is figuring out where they lie, and how to sort them out. I know there’s Truth, and I know there’s interpretation. I know there’s only Truth, but there’s also only interpretation. The book helped me realize there comes a time to stand up and ask the questions people are afraid to ask. I love hanging with other Christians, but hate feeling insecure about asking them questions or calling them out on issues that would make me seem unchristian. This book solidified in my mind that if we’re really interested in seeking truth, we won’t shy away from what’s bothering us. Besides, like I’ve always said: if I go to heaven, God gets the glory. If I go to hell, God gets the glory.
It was an interesting book club book too. We’re lucky enough to have 4 very diverse Christians in our group along with an agnostic leaning toward atheist. The whole time I was reading, I was wondering what presuppositions and thoughts and theology the others were bringing into the book. Or what I was bringing to it... I wonder why I don’t do that with all books.
But what does that even mean? Doesn’t Christian literally mean, “Christ-Follower?” Christianity is such a vast VAST umbrella. We have all these different groups of Christians, each one working so diligently to distinguish themselves semantically from all the false/heretical Christians. It’s crazy, and mind-numbing.
So, I’ll repeat my question, what is a Christian? If a Christian is a “Christ follower,” then what did Christ teach? What are we to follow?
Myself? I’ve concluded Christians find themselves in a Catch-22 of who they should be. “The World” (or Shakespeare at least) tells us, “This above all: to thine own self be true.” I think there’s the desire in every human being to follow that mantra. But how does a Christian do that? If people are fallen, depraved, and innately bad, being true to yourself means to be true to evil. Yet, if one says, “Christians should be true to God, Christianity, or it’s ideals,” they’d be giving Christians an impossible task, setting them up for failure and hypocrisy.
There’s the rub, if you’re a Christian. If you claim sin is wrong, yet commit sin – which you will - you are labeled a hypocrite. If you are true to yourself, you sin... unless you’re a naturally sinless person. (I would be hesitant to make that claim.) Again, you’re a hypocrite.
I’m worried that this is going to digress into a harangue on hamartiology rather than a review of a moving and troubling memoir.
I’m a sucker for a good memoir, especially one I can relate to. I can relate to this one. It revolves around Julia and her adopted African-American brother, David. I have an adopted Haitian-American brother as well. (Technically, it’s more complicated than “adopted,” but we’ll save that for another book review.) She spent half the book (6 months) in the Dominican Republic. I spent roughly 2 years in Haiti. Julia had to deal with feelings of abandoning her brother based on situations she could and could not control. I have dealt with this as well.
It’s easy to believe we live in a post-race world. We have a black president. Nobody bats an eye at inter-racial couples. Too many links came up when I googled “White Minority America” in order to pick one for my next sentence. Go ahead and google it yourself.
“Maybe you’re right,” you say, “but there’s still racism.”
That’s my point. But I believe it’s an understated point. In the midst of the race card being played every 3.5 seconds, I believe it’s an understated point. (You can get that statistic HERE.) Sometimes life seems so certain and peaceful on top that you don’t realize there’s a harsh under-tow waiting to carry you out to sea. Julia and I both had to confront racism that lurked just out of view. From the kids and teachers using phrases like, “acting white” or “acting black,” to ******** never mind. I’m editing this part out. (When you don’t post anonymously online you live in constant fear of telling the truth.)
What is a racist? During the discussion in book club, a fellow member asked the question: “Two bars right next to each other, one’s full of white people, one’s full of black people, which one do you go in?” He gave the pause to think, “Me? I’m going in the one with the white people.” Another pause. “Does that make me a racist?”
I may have become hyper-sensitive to racism, or at least to certain aspects of racism. This is one of my problems with the book. I believe Julia is hyper-sensitive to it as well. Any time someone has a problem with her brother David, she blames it on race.
Can you point out someone’s racial differences, or is that racist? ...Is pointing them out the same thing as acknowledging them?
There’s a part in the book where David makes fun of himself, accentuating his African features. He’s laughing, the other kids in the class are laughing. Julia is ticked. She makes the laudable observation that, “David had not yet learned that there’s a difference between having an audience and having friends.”
But was that a black/white thing? David was low on the social totem pole, yes. But I have a very diverse crowd of low totem pole kids that use self-deprecating humor to climb higher. And it certainly makes them more agreeable than the sulkers who are bitter about not being on the top. Is David’s internalized racism truly racism? Are the kids that laughed at him racist?
While Scheers writes of cases of clear, cut and dried racism – such as the farmer boys in the pickup truck, and the instances at the swimming pool – she also writes of other instances that make me question the veracity (?) necessity (?) of her playing the race card.
The two key conflicts in this book:
1.) determining racism/ fighting against it
2.) true Christianity vs. religiosity vs. pure hypocrisy (especially with parents)
I’m a sucker for a good memoir, but I’m also very skeptical of them. There’s a certain power that comes with writing history – especially when the other side’s story won’t come out. Scheers comes from an apparently loveless Christian home. A question I had throughout the book is, was she writing from the perspective of her young self, or was she writing it from an adult perspective? It was rather ambiguous. She casts her parents in a very negative light, shedding the light on their hypocrisy. And, while I don’t want to act like I agree with their style of parenting or condone it, I wonder what gives her the right to cast the first stone? By her own admission she was not blameless. And we don’t get to hear her parent’s version of the events. I can’t imagine they knew what her brother Jerome was doing to her. Did they know she was getting drunk before school and sneaking a boy up to see her at night? If so, what is the correct response? Reform school doesn’t seem like that bad of an idea. So what gives her the right to cast the stone without them being able to defend themselves? Is it because she’s no longer a Christian that she herself is allowed to sin, yet condemn others for it?
Is that what gives all non-Christians the right? As long as you don’t claim absolutes you can do what you want without fear of messing up, yet attack those who do mess up because they claim absolutes, yet can’t live by them.
Maybe Scheer’s parents were bad Christians. Maybe that’s an understatement, I don’t know them. But to blanket all Christianity under the umbrella of gross hypocrisy is disingenuous and dishonest.
I grew up in Pennsylvania looking down my nose at the Mid-West. I was a scant few hours away from NYC, Philadelphia, D.C. What does the Mid-West have? Corn, hicks, tornados, and land-lock syndrome. And my wife. Yes, we do have corn and hicks. Yes, a tornado jumped over my house last summer. But we’ve got the Windy City, Motown, and the 2007 Super Bowl winning Colts... (yikes, I’m still a Steelers fan...) The beaches at Lake Michigan are legit. I didn’t believe it either until I went there. The people out here are friendly and laid back. Scheers playing to the stereotypes of the Midwest got on my nerves. (My wife – a staunch defender of our section of the United States – has been banned from reading this book for that very reason. She would be beyond unhappy with Scheers portrayal of her homeland.) I realize that was her experience growing up here, and I respect that. I just felt like the depiction was a little self-serving and inaccurate.
So, if I had so many problems with the book, why did I give it 4 stars? Answer: *ding ding ding* I loved it. I loved it. It made me ponder my own faith, and whether I was speaking out enough. It seemed heartfelt, and tragic, and warm, and a bunch of other clichés that make you think of heartfelt, and tragic and warm. It made me wonder how Christians (and my interesting breed of Christianity in particular) are viewed by others – Christians and non-Christians alike. Christians are often told not to offend, but if people find offense, let them take it with the Gospel. While I agree in part, I wonder if that’s a cop-out. Like the cop-out of faith, or the cop-out of never saved. (Not to be confused with true faith, or the true Gospel, etc...)
There are a lot of things wrong with my faith. (Individual) The problem is figuring out where they lie, and how to sort them out. I know there’s Truth, and I know there’s interpretation. I know there’s only Truth, but there’s also only interpretation. The book helped me realize there comes a time to stand up and ask the questions people are afraid to ask. I love hanging with other Christians, but hate feeling insecure about asking them questions or calling them out on issues that would make me seem unchristian. This book solidified in my mind that if we’re really interested in seeking truth, we won’t shy away from what’s bothering us. Besides, like I’ve always said: if I go to heaven, God gets the glory. If I go to hell, God gets the glory.
It was an interesting book club book too. We’re lucky enough to have 4 very diverse Christians in our group along with an agnostic leaning toward atheist. The whole time I was reading, I was wondering what presuppositions and thoughts and theology the others were bringing into the book. Or what I was bringing to it... I wonder why I don’t do that with all books.
November 12, 2022
Through a personal conection of growing up in Scheeres' Indiana , this book really resonated with me. Those were and continue to be hard for so many mariginized youth. We can do better.
June 13, 2024
An excellent memoir about the highly dysfunctional Scheeres family, a middle class family of Calvinists in Indiana. The (self proclaimed) religious parents adopted some African-American children when they were young, and though they raised these two boys with their family, never did the parents treat the boys "as their own". The parents are cruel, but particularly so to Jerome and David. This book, though written in Julia, the youngest daughter's voice and is her memoir, is equally about David, her only months younger brother. Despite their lack of familial warmth or love, the two grow up best friends, siblings as close as could be. The first half if the book focuses on thw twiated family dynamica and racism they faced in thwir home, church and community. The little joy in the lives of these two children seemed to be found only in their moments of play. As they grew older and their family, peers and neighbirs became more hateful, their bond was tested, sometimes weakenwd, but ultimately, when they're both sent to "reform school", they find their way back to wach other.
The second half of thw book takes pkace in the Dominican Republic. After living with years of beatings and no particular kindness or care from their parents, they are eventually bith sent to Escuela Caribe (same school featured in the documentary Kidnapped for Christ, just about 14 yeara earlier--the "schoo"l operated for decades), where they were subjected to more abuses, brainwashing, and daily punishments for zero or minor infractions. The two eventually are released, 18 years old, lost, but free.
This memior is beautifully written, heartbreaking, appalling and redemptive. I loved it. 4.5 stars. Highly recommended for people who like memoirs, people interested in religious fundamentalism, or anyone interested in what New Horizons Ministry's "youth programs" are actually like.
The second half of thw book takes pkace in the Dominican Republic. After living with years of beatings and no particular kindness or care from their parents, they are eventually bith sent to Escuela Caribe (same school featured in the documentary Kidnapped for Christ, just about 14 yeara earlier--the "schoo"l operated for decades), where they were subjected to more abuses, brainwashing, and daily punishments for zero or minor infractions. The two eventually are released, 18 years old, lost, but free.
This memior is beautifully written, heartbreaking, appalling and redemptive. I loved it. 4.5 stars. Highly recommended for people who like memoirs, people interested in religious fundamentalism, or anyone interested in what New Horizons Ministry's "youth programs" are actually like.
December 20, 2013
Julia Scheeres' Jesus Land tells the story of Julia and her brother David, both sixteen-year-olds of different races who are insulted and humiliated due to their love for each other as brother and sister. This book is set up on the rural part of Indiana during the 1980's, when racism was still in abundance within our society. Searching for freedom from their violent father and their mother, who cares more about the church than she cares about her own children, Julia and David fight through various obstacles to reach their life-long dream, Florida. Julia and David try their hardest to make it through their hardships, obstacles that include racism, delinquency, physical abuse, mental abuse, and the persistence of others to separate them. The book highlights how far racism could drive someone in the 1980's, which can make this memoir seem as if it were fiction.
A memorable event would be the time when Julia, now affected by the humiliation coming from her classmates, denies being David's real sister, not knowing that David was standing right behind her. Her close friend, Elaine, criticized David on a daily basis and Julia saw this as an opportunity to fit in with her classmate. David, ashamed of being African-American, starts cutting his hair in a way that makes him look "whiter" and he starts to wear blue contacts, so he can look more like Julia. Julia, ashamed of her actions, apologizes and suggests him to return to his normal self.
Ultimately, the story of Julia and David Scheeres is the story of two teenagers adapting to a surprisingly cruel society, loving each other without regarding their different race and finding their way to a world with no judgement or rules, a world they call "Florida". It all adds up to a tale of ignorance and cruelty, two concepts that contribute to the non-vanishing racism around the world. Jesus Land, tells that story very well, revealing that sometimes we have to learn and play society's game to reach the place we have always dreamed of.
After finishing Jesus Land by Julia Scheeres, I would recommend it to those who are interested in knowing how life really was in the 1980's, especially when it comes to racism. At some point, the reader has to be mature about many concepts, since a few of the events can be uncomfortable to read. However, David Scheeres, who became my favorite person throughout the story, can warm your heart as he protects his sister Julia, or, as he calls her, "Ju-la-la", from all sorts of danger and as he tries to fit in with a racist society, who does nothing but use God as their excuse to exclude African-Americans. Julia Scheeres teaches a lesson for those who struggle on a daily basis; as David represents hope, she represents audacity. Overall, their story is worth reading about.
Various life lessons can come from Jesus Land, but I think the most important life lesson is learning how to play society's game to get to where you want to be. When Julia and David tried to confront their parents and disagree with "God's beliefs", all they got in return was physical abuse and a bad reputation. Because they were still young, all they were expected to do was behave and be good religious children. Eventually, they realized, once they got to Escuela Caribe, that fighting against adults did no good, suggesting that, if they did as they were told for enough time, the wait for their eighteenth birthday would be less painful.
Reading about Julia and David Scheeres' brother and sister relationship, and being an older sister myself, allowed me to feel Julia's sadness when her brother was hurt, as well as her happiness when they spent time together after a difficult situation. It made me feel thankful for the family I have, realizing that other people today might have a father just as abusive or a mother just as careless as theirs. Their story also made me feel that everything happens for a reason and that, with the right determination, one can surpass many obstacles.
A memorable event would be the time when Julia, now affected by the humiliation coming from her classmates, denies being David's real sister, not knowing that David was standing right behind her. Her close friend, Elaine, criticized David on a daily basis and Julia saw this as an opportunity to fit in with her classmate. David, ashamed of being African-American, starts cutting his hair in a way that makes him look "whiter" and he starts to wear blue contacts, so he can look more like Julia. Julia, ashamed of her actions, apologizes and suggests him to return to his normal self.
Ultimately, the story of Julia and David Scheeres is the story of two teenagers adapting to a surprisingly cruel society, loving each other without regarding their different race and finding their way to a world with no judgement or rules, a world they call "Florida". It all adds up to a tale of ignorance and cruelty, two concepts that contribute to the non-vanishing racism around the world. Jesus Land, tells that story very well, revealing that sometimes we have to learn and play society's game to reach the place we have always dreamed of.
After finishing Jesus Land by Julia Scheeres, I would recommend it to those who are interested in knowing how life really was in the 1980's, especially when it comes to racism. At some point, the reader has to be mature about many concepts, since a few of the events can be uncomfortable to read. However, David Scheeres, who became my favorite person throughout the story, can warm your heart as he protects his sister Julia, or, as he calls her, "Ju-la-la", from all sorts of danger and as he tries to fit in with a racist society, who does nothing but use God as their excuse to exclude African-Americans. Julia Scheeres teaches a lesson for those who struggle on a daily basis; as David represents hope, she represents audacity. Overall, their story is worth reading about.
Various life lessons can come from Jesus Land, but I think the most important life lesson is learning how to play society's game to get to where you want to be. When Julia and David tried to confront their parents and disagree with "God's beliefs", all they got in return was physical abuse and a bad reputation. Because they were still young, all they were expected to do was behave and be good religious children. Eventually, they realized, once they got to Escuela Caribe, that fighting against adults did no good, suggesting that, if they did as they were told for enough time, the wait for their eighteenth birthday would be less painful.
Reading about Julia and David Scheeres' brother and sister relationship, and being an older sister myself, allowed me to feel Julia's sadness when her brother was hurt, as well as her happiness when they spent time together after a difficult situation. It made me feel thankful for the family I have, realizing that other people today might have a father just as abusive or a mother just as careless as theirs. Their story also made me feel that everything happens for a reason and that, with the right determination, one can surpass many obstacles.
March 27, 2016
I really had to think how I was going to talk about this book. As I read about Julia’s life there were many times I wanted to quit. Not because of her writing style but because the story was so hard to digest. I come from a hard childhood myself and this memoir dredged up some difficult memories for me. I have read many books about people coming from rough back rounds and leaving the faith of their childhood, but none as heart wrenching as this. It always surprises me the things people as willing to do in the name of god.
This is a memoir about a great many things. Religion washes over all of the themes. Racism, inter-family relationships, adoption, adolescence/coming of age, sexual, physical, emotional and mental abuse, and finally hope. She describes the people in her childhood in vivid terms and I could really visualize them and hear their voices in my head. I loved reading about David, Julia’s brother. I found myself rooting for him the whole book. To me, the most important theme that stood out in the book was religion vs. love, compassion and civility. Over and over the adults in the lives of Julia and David chose religion over love and the others. It amazed me that David and Julia could love each other so steadfastly as siblings. It seemed they had no real examples of love in their lives or even civility for that matter.
In the end what kept me engaged in this book were two things. First, I almost never quit reading a book. I have to know how it ends. Secondly, I had hope. Hope that someone would rescue these kids from their awful lives. Hope that in the end they would find comfort and happiness on the warm beaches of Florida. I found the ending to be bittersweet at best, as life often is. Realizing that as in my own childhood, the rescuers never came, in the end you have to rescue yourself.
I would recommend this book. I will warn readers that it is not an easy read. There is much sadness and trauma within the pages. If you have PTSD around religion or abuse as I do beware. It tripped many of my triggers. If you read or have read the book I would love to hear your impressions.
This is a memoir about a great many things. Religion washes over all of the themes. Racism, inter-family relationships, adoption, adolescence/coming of age, sexual, physical, emotional and mental abuse, and finally hope. She describes the people in her childhood in vivid terms and I could really visualize them and hear their voices in my head. I loved reading about David, Julia’s brother. I found myself rooting for him the whole book. To me, the most important theme that stood out in the book was religion vs. love, compassion and civility. Over and over the adults in the lives of Julia and David chose religion over love and the others. It amazed me that David and Julia could love each other so steadfastly as siblings. It seemed they had no real examples of love in their lives or even civility for that matter.
In the end what kept me engaged in this book were two things. First, I almost never quit reading a book. I have to know how it ends. Secondly, I had hope. Hope that someone would rescue these kids from their awful lives. Hope that in the end they would find comfort and happiness on the warm beaches of Florida. I found the ending to be bittersweet at best, as life often is. Realizing that as in my own childhood, the rescuers never came, in the end you have to rescue yourself.
I would recommend this book. I will warn readers that it is not an easy read. There is much sadness and trauma within the pages. If you have PTSD around religion or abuse as I do beware. It tripped many of my triggers. If you read or have read the book I would love to hear your impressions.
June 4, 2011
Schadenfruede or just curiosity? I do seem to have a fascination for reading about those who've had unpleasant childhoods - "The Glass Castle," "Running with Scissors" and now "Jesus Land." What a sad, sad memoir, yet the author tells her tale matter-of-factly - no self-pity here. Scheeres spends her teenage years in rural Indiana with a violent father, an unbalanced mother and her two adopted African American brothers. Her close, almost twin-like relationship with her brother David is the heart of the book. Trapped in their nightmare of a family, David desperately yearns for the happiness depicted on "The Brady Bunch," while Julia plots her perfect future from the pages of the Sears catalogue.
The second half of the book deals with the siblings' "adventures" at a Christian "boot camp" ("concentration camp" the author intones) in the Dominican Republic. A far cry from the Bible camp I was forced to attend, where we sat around telling dirty jokes when the counselors weren't around, the "inmates" of Escuela Caribe perform an endless list of menial tasks and are judged on how they fold their underwear - hoping to rise through the ranks to earn the coveted "Level Five" and their only chance at freedom. Snitching on peers is encouraged by the management, and they soon learn to trust no one. A hard lesson to learn when they both long wholeheartedly for friendship and social acceptance.
The second half of the book deals with the siblings' "adventures" at a Christian "boot camp" ("concentration camp" the author intones) in the Dominican Republic. A far cry from the Bible camp I was forced to attend, where we sat around telling dirty jokes when the counselors weren't around, the "inmates" of Escuela Caribe perform an endless list of menial tasks and are judged on how they fold their underwear - hoping to rise through the ranks to earn the coveted "Level Five" and their only chance at freedom. Snitching on peers is encouraged by the management, and they soon learn to trust no one. A hard lesson to learn when they both long wholeheartedly for friendship and social acceptance.
September 13, 2007
The richly remembered childhood of another kid ruined by toxic Christianity. The scary thing is that the school described herein is still operating today, still hurting kids in the name of Jesus. This book is riveting, like a 60 car pile-up on the freeway. Well-written, and too painfully honest to disbelieve.
December 7, 2008
Only read this book if you want to become depressed. It is very well written and the characters are so memorable but the story is just too hard to take at times. One of the people in my book club expained it best by stating that sometimes you had to walk away from it to be able to finish it. If you ever thought that your life growing up was hard, read this in comparison becuase it will make you thank your parents (thanks Mom!) for giving you a great childhood.
March 21, 2018
4.5 stars Once I got into this book, I couldn’t put it down, letting my other books sit so I could finish it. I’ve had it on my shelf for a long time and finally decided to pick it up and so glad that I did. An amazing, sorrowful memoir that I recommend to everyone.
February 1, 2023
Anti-life, anti-Christian and in some ways anti-black and anti-gay creative non-fiction where an adult liberal "journalist" uses her horrible teen years to propagandize her atheistic pro-abortion stances. I certainly understand why she would turn out as bad as she did, but instead of accepting responsibility for her own immoral and illegal choices, she makes anyone who has faith in God look insane and abusive. But the real abuse is in using exaggerated dramatic language and impossibly detailed scenes to fictionalize her life story.
The book splits into two halves. The first is extremely boring, about her school years with her well-off white parents (dad's a doctor, mom's a nurse) that adopt two black boys and move the family to the middle of nowhere. I knew early on that her lop-sided writing style would lead to revelations of sexual abuse, violence, and mockery of her forced Christianity--and it all comes more often than necessary. Added to it are silly adjectives or minor details that there is no way in the world she could have remembered. A couple dozen times she lists specific songs she is listening to during specific incidents, and I challenge any reader to come up with more than two or three times in childhood you can recall a specific song being played during a specific event (such as sitting in the car or having lunch!). But a couple dozen in the period of a few years? Virtually impossible.
Which led me to realize that this book isn't totally factual. It's creative writing masquerading as non-fiction. At the beginning she admits, "The events in this book took place a long time ago and involve many people with whom I no longer have contact." Huh? This grown "investigative reporter" didn't go back to anyone involved to confirm her twenty-year-old memory? I can guess why--the author does everything she can to make others look bad, even the siblings she claims to love and the sex-loving boyfriend she longs for.
This is important, because once you get to the second half there are so many things that strain credibility that you will not believe much of it. She recreates loads of dialogue, teaching, and commands--of which almost all we have no idea whether it's accurate. And that's because she's creating it from memory with no diary notes or interviews with those involved.
That portion of the book is about her being sent to a Third World Christian reform school with no electricity and Nazi-like discipline. (Again, be skeptical. This is a wild rebel who is trying to spin the story to make the good people look as bad as they can.)
I'm not defending any of the negative things that may have happened to her, and these adults should have often known better. Some of them should be jailed for the violence and mistreatment. But the fact is that this author CHOSE to go to the reform school instead of living with her parents or accepting the option to live on her own at age 17. Just as she chose to do all the bad things she did, like failing to tell anyone that her older stepbrother sexually assaulted her repeatedly or secretly inviting a teen from school that tried to rape her into her bedroom nightly t0 become her sexually active boyfriend.
Again the minor details are laughable in the second half, with her recalling ants eating a cockroach during her first lunch period at reform school twenty years earlier. Right. Scheeres actually diminishes her story by including silly things that are obviously added to make the story more "interesting" but are unbelievable padding. No surprise she went on to become a Los Angeles Times reporter, where you're paid to create fiction mixed with incomplete facts in order to spin an anti-morality, anti-conservative story.
This book is filled with language offense to blacks and gays, ask well as her sacrilegious pro-abortion thoughts. In one section when a boarding schoolmate gets pregnant by the pastor, Scheeres writes, "She could abort it--I'm sure God would also reject the forbidden fruit of a preacher man and a teenage member of his flock. It would make Him look bad." Sorry, Julia, but you are the one trying to make Him look bad and He doesn't reject even you when you're being so disgusting.
I'm not sure how she has kept any job considering this book has her using the n-word repeatedly and the gay f-word as she makes fun of a flamboyant leader. Maybe you give her a pass for thinking it at 17, but repeating the thoughts on paper in her 30s should have people revolting against the publication of this. There are no apologies for her bad word choices, only her attempt to blame everyone else. Meanwhile she makes money off of it now without us being able to hear others versions of the story.
She splits her younger stepbrother's minimal story into a few short paragraphs at the end of each chapter, rendering it ineffective by bludgeoning us with the message that she was treated better as a white than he was as a black, though she fails to explore that it may have actually been more of a male/female inequitable treatment issue. Boys are usually assumed to be the instigator of violence and abuse, though in this book it's obvious that Julia Scheeres had it in her but allowed her younger stepbrother to take the fall for her.
The ending of the book is a bit anticlimactic because it's suddenly written barebones, with not enough detail to let us know what happened in the decades since. Then on the final page are the Acknowledgments, where she thanks six people and...Planned Parenthood. "For its tireless crusade to protect women's reproductive freedom."
What does that have to do with this bad book? She ends up rejecting any faith, condemning anyone religious, and even hinting that it might have been better that she and her older black stepbrother not be born. "I thank my parents for bringing me David (younger stepbrother), but not for the life they gave us."
Is she saying she now supports Planned Parenthood because she wishes she and her older abusive adopted stepbrother had not been born?
A good question to ask her would be: if you say you loved your younger adopted stepbrother so much and wish he were still around, why wouldn't you endorse adoption instead of supporting killing babies in the womb in the name of reproductive rights? Her misuse of the book to mock pro-life educators and demean Christians that are concerned for her soul shows how totally shallow Julia Scheeres is. No class whatsoever and it is the opposite of being inspirational.
What a very sad commentary on her life and how she views others. She rejects the one solution that has been preached to her from childhood and ignores the truth that she can make choices to make her life worth living, as all lives can be no matter what they've suffered through. Her anti-life message should give pause to believing parents and teachers regarding how they raise children, but ultimately this tale is simply of how one woman rejected Jesus.
The book splits into two halves. The first is extremely boring, about her school years with her well-off white parents (dad's a doctor, mom's a nurse) that adopt two black boys and move the family to the middle of nowhere. I knew early on that her lop-sided writing style would lead to revelations of sexual abuse, violence, and mockery of her forced Christianity--and it all comes more often than necessary. Added to it are silly adjectives or minor details that there is no way in the world she could have remembered. A couple dozen times she lists specific songs she is listening to during specific incidents, and I challenge any reader to come up with more than two or three times in childhood you can recall a specific song being played during a specific event (such as sitting in the car or having lunch!). But a couple dozen in the period of a few years? Virtually impossible.
Which led me to realize that this book isn't totally factual. It's creative writing masquerading as non-fiction. At the beginning she admits, "The events in this book took place a long time ago and involve many people with whom I no longer have contact." Huh? This grown "investigative reporter" didn't go back to anyone involved to confirm her twenty-year-old memory? I can guess why--the author does everything she can to make others look bad, even the siblings she claims to love and the sex-loving boyfriend she longs for.
This is important, because once you get to the second half there are so many things that strain credibility that you will not believe much of it. She recreates loads of dialogue, teaching, and commands--of which almost all we have no idea whether it's accurate. And that's because she's creating it from memory with no diary notes or interviews with those involved.
That portion of the book is about her being sent to a Third World Christian reform school with no electricity and Nazi-like discipline. (Again, be skeptical. This is a wild rebel who is trying to spin the story to make the good people look as bad as they can.)
I'm not defending any of the negative things that may have happened to her, and these adults should have often known better. Some of them should be jailed for the violence and mistreatment. But the fact is that this author CHOSE to go to the reform school instead of living with her parents or accepting the option to live on her own at age 17. Just as she chose to do all the bad things she did, like failing to tell anyone that her older stepbrother sexually assaulted her repeatedly or secretly inviting a teen from school that tried to rape her into her bedroom nightly t0 become her sexually active boyfriend.
Again the minor details are laughable in the second half, with her recalling ants eating a cockroach during her first lunch period at reform school twenty years earlier. Right. Scheeres actually diminishes her story by including silly things that are obviously added to make the story more "interesting" but are unbelievable padding. No surprise she went on to become a Los Angeles Times reporter, where you're paid to create fiction mixed with incomplete facts in order to spin an anti-morality, anti-conservative story.
This book is filled with language offense to blacks and gays, ask well as her sacrilegious pro-abortion thoughts. In one section when a boarding schoolmate gets pregnant by the pastor, Scheeres writes, "She could abort it--I'm sure God would also reject the forbidden fruit of a preacher man and a teenage member of his flock. It would make Him look bad." Sorry, Julia, but you are the one trying to make Him look bad and He doesn't reject even you when you're being so disgusting.
I'm not sure how she has kept any job considering this book has her using the n-word repeatedly and the gay f-word as she makes fun of a flamboyant leader. Maybe you give her a pass for thinking it at 17, but repeating the thoughts on paper in her 30s should have people revolting against the publication of this. There are no apologies for her bad word choices, only her attempt to blame everyone else. Meanwhile she makes money off of it now without us being able to hear others versions of the story.
She splits her younger stepbrother's minimal story into a few short paragraphs at the end of each chapter, rendering it ineffective by bludgeoning us with the message that she was treated better as a white than he was as a black, though she fails to explore that it may have actually been more of a male/female inequitable treatment issue. Boys are usually assumed to be the instigator of violence and abuse, though in this book it's obvious that Julia Scheeres had it in her but allowed her younger stepbrother to take the fall for her.
The ending of the book is a bit anticlimactic because it's suddenly written barebones, with not enough detail to let us know what happened in the decades since. Then on the final page are the Acknowledgments, where she thanks six people and...Planned Parenthood. "For its tireless crusade to protect women's reproductive freedom."
What does that have to do with this bad book? She ends up rejecting any faith, condemning anyone religious, and even hinting that it might have been better that she and her older black stepbrother not be born. "I thank my parents for bringing me David (younger stepbrother), but not for the life they gave us."
Is she saying she now supports Planned Parenthood because she wishes she and her older abusive adopted stepbrother had not been born?
A good question to ask her would be: if you say you loved your younger adopted stepbrother so much and wish he were still around, why wouldn't you endorse adoption instead of supporting killing babies in the womb in the name of reproductive rights? Her misuse of the book to mock pro-life educators and demean Christians that are concerned for her soul shows how totally shallow Julia Scheeres is. No class whatsoever and it is the opposite of being inspirational.
What a very sad commentary on her life and how she views others. She rejects the one solution that has been preached to her from childhood and ignores the truth that she can make choices to make her life worth living, as all lives can be no matter what they've suffered through. Her anti-life message should give pause to believing parents and teachers regarding how they raise children, but ultimately this tale is simply of how one woman rejected Jesus.
September 25, 2020
This has been on my "to-read" shelf for quite some time, but I don't recall where it came from or how it got there. Scheeres describes her (frankly quite horrible) childhood within a hyper religious Indiana family. When she was three, her parents adopted (sort of accidentally) a three year old black boy. The two developed a twin-like relationship because of their closeness in age. Later, when they were six, her parents adopted another child who was a year older. She chronicles the abuse (mental and physical) levied on all three children by the parents along with the clear racist differences in application: "I don't get whipped like they do when I talk back or get caught in a lie. I get grounded. I'm spared the rod, and it's a dirty privilege that makes me feel guilty."
It is a remarkably sad book, but also hopeful from the perspective that the relationship between Julia and David was profound. It left me with belief that individuals can see each other as real humans, despite surface differences and that shared negative experiences can create strong bonds.
I also thought Julia does a great job of describing the "freeze" response during trauma (fight/flight/freeze are the three and freeze is often questioned as non-authentic): "Things are done to you and you can't do anything back. And so you play dead. Because if you don't acknowledge something, it isn't real. It doesn't happen."
Ultimately it is a very worthwhile read and a glimpse into the sad, hypocritical, evil world of hyper-religion.
It is a remarkably sad book, but also hopeful from the perspective that the relationship between Julia and David was profound. It left me with belief that individuals can see each other as real humans, despite surface differences and that shared negative experiences can create strong bonds.
I also thought Julia does a great job of describing the "freeze" response during trauma (fight/flight/freeze are the three and freeze is often questioned as non-authentic): "Things are done to you and you can't do anything back. And so you play dead. Because if you don't acknowledge something, it isn't real. It doesn't happen."
Ultimately it is a very worthwhile read and a glimpse into the sad, hypocritical, evil world of hyper-religion.
January 7, 2024
Started this for the growing-up-in-religious-Indiana pitch & then halfway through got jump-scared with the troubled teen industry. Unflinching & gritty & also beautiful. Well-paced, and the voice & vocabulary change along with the narrator which was sooooo cool. Bonus points for the Anne Lamott blurb on the front I didn’t even notice until after I bought it.
July 5, 2025
As someone who grew up I a conservative and predominantly Christian town, this book resonated with me. The story was heart wrenching and authentic. The epilogue destroyed me further. I recommend this memoir to anyone deconstructing their Christianity or reflecting on their close-minded hometown.
October 26, 2009
Julia Scheeres's train wreck of a memoir is divided into two parts. The first focuses on her upbringing in a strict, abusive Calvinist family. In an apparently self-deluded display of Christian charity her parents have adopted two black boys, whom they not only abuse but fail to protect from the inevitable racism of 1980s middle America. The older boy, Jerome, rebels; the younger boy, David, whom Julia is memorializing in this book, dreams of a happy, functional family but only Julia is receptive to returning his affection.
As David and Julia's unhappiness grows, they each act out and become self-destructive in their own ways. David grows increasingly depressed and withdrawn and begins to engage in self-harm, while Julia drinks on the quiet and gets into a dead-end sexual relationship with a boy at school who is clearly using her. Eventually David gets sent to a Christian reform school in the Dominican Republic, followed by Julia a bit later. The second half of the memoir describes their experience in the reform school, which is its own abusive environment.
My recurring thought as I read this was that I never want to read another dysfunctional-family-and-abuse memoir. The first part of this book was worse than The Glass Castle A Memoir, with its neverending game of "Top this:" The mother is distant and seems to views her kids as an unwelcome irritation, feeding them "garbage soup" made of random, often spoiled leftovers ("Waste not, want not!"). But wait -- the father is physically abusive and breaks David's arm. But wait -- Jerome molests Julia repeatedly. But wait -- Jerome sets Julia up to be gang-raped. But wait -- one of the would-be gang rapists ends up using Julia for sex nightly, accepting the title and privileges of "boyfriend" but none of the responsibility, and Julia, starved for affection and for any means of fleeting escape from her brutal situation, accepts this. I mean, how much of this can you read already? I understand why many goodreaders were skeptical about the events, and noted the one-dimensional portrayal of the book's many villains. This is an age of wildly sensationalist and dubious tell-all memoirs, and while I don't claim to know whether "Jesus Land" belongs in that category, it certainly felt over the top at times. And if in fact all this really did happen to Julia, well, it was just too painful for words.
"Top this" continues as David and Julia are relocated to the reform school. David and Julia's parents are paying mega-bucks for their children to sleep on thin foam pads and be minimally fed. But wait -- some of the staff are abusive, certainly verbally and sometimes physically. But wait -- the first preacher gets one of the teens pregnant. But wait -- the replacement preacher then threatens Julia in a highly graphic and sado-sexual way. But wait -- letters home from the kids which fail to offer sugarcoated descriptions of life at the reform school are censored, and students who write these letters are punished severely.
I should really start a shelf for "car accident books" -- books that describe horrifying events that turn your stomach but are somehow impossible to look away from. But I won't start that shelf, because I hope I never have to read another book like this. I could really use some fluffy chick lit about now.
As David and Julia's unhappiness grows, they each act out and become self-destructive in their own ways. David grows increasingly depressed and withdrawn and begins to engage in self-harm, while Julia drinks on the quiet and gets into a dead-end sexual relationship with a boy at school who is clearly using her. Eventually David gets sent to a Christian reform school in the Dominican Republic, followed by Julia a bit later. The second half of the memoir describes their experience in the reform school, which is its own abusive environment.
My recurring thought as I read this was that I never want to read another dysfunctional-family-and-abuse memoir. The first part of this book was worse than The Glass Castle A Memoir, with its neverending game of "Top this:" The mother is distant and seems to views her kids as an unwelcome irritation, feeding them "garbage soup" made of random, often spoiled leftovers ("Waste not, want not!"). But wait -- the father is physically abusive and breaks David's arm. But wait -- Jerome molests Julia repeatedly. But wait -- Jerome sets Julia up to be gang-raped. But wait -- one of the would-be gang rapists ends up using Julia for sex nightly, accepting the title and privileges of "boyfriend" but none of the responsibility, and Julia, starved for affection and for any means of fleeting escape from her brutal situation, accepts this. I mean, how much of this can you read already? I understand why many goodreaders were skeptical about the events, and noted the one-dimensional portrayal of the book's many villains. This is an age of wildly sensationalist and dubious tell-all memoirs, and while I don't claim to know whether "Jesus Land" belongs in that category, it certainly felt over the top at times. And if in fact all this really did happen to Julia, well, it was just too painful for words.
"Top this" continues as David and Julia are relocated to the reform school. David and Julia's parents are paying mega-bucks for their children to sleep on thin foam pads and be minimally fed. But wait -- some of the staff are abusive, certainly verbally and sometimes physically. But wait -- the first preacher gets one of the teens pregnant. But wait -- the replacement preacher then threatens Julia in a highly graphic and sado-sexual way. But wait -- letters home from the kids which fail to offer sugarcoated descriptions of life at the reform school are censored, and students who write these letters are punished severely.
I should really start a shelf for "car accident books" -- books that describe horrifying events that turn your stomach but are somehow impossible to look away from. But I won't start that shelf, because I hope I never have to read another book like this. I could really use some fluffy chick lit about now.
October 22, 2019
This is the story of "bad things happened to a victim as they were growing up." If the story were told in such a way that I could like the person telling it or even feel their pain, then it would have been interesting.
The author's disdain for her neighbors and her personal bigotry is vivid. and irritating, since she is pointing out their faults. EVERYONE is a redneck. EVERYONE is a racist. FARMERS are ignoramuses. CHRISTIANS are pathetic. Companies that make farm equipment are despicable. She points out all the hatred in other people and doesn't realize how consistently condescending and hateful she is herself.
This is supposed to be a "true story," but the book is filled with erroneous details on practically every page. For example, it is finally revealed that the book begins in 1977 - yet she mentions Madonna who wasn't around until the 1980s. Another example - her first day of school the author carries a backback full of school books. Where did she get them? In the mail?
The writing style is poor. For example, the author suddenly starts drinking on the morning she starts at her new school. Her description is that she HAD BEEN pilfering Southern Comfort from her parents liquor cabinet for a while, but she didn't drink any. No mention of liquor in the house before this. And when did mom get a job? Previously, the author had written that mom was watching out the window and she and her brother harvested 15 acres of crops by hand. (average city block is 2-1/2 acres so that's 7 blocks of produce). Better writing would begin with, "mom got a job and I started pilfering the liquor" and include fear of getting caught, etc. At any rate on the first day of school the author sips some of the liquor and IMMEDIATELY feels giggly (another erroneous detail).
It's just not a believable book. I could not finish 3 chapters.
The author's disdain for her neighbors and her personal bigotry is vivid. and irritating, since she is pointing out their faults. EVERYONE is a redneck. EVERYONE is a racist. FARMERS are ignoramuses. CHRISTIANS are pathetic. Companies that make farm equipment are despicable. She points out all the hatred in other people and doesn't realize how consistently condescending and hateful she is herself.
This is supposed to be a "true story," but the book is filled with erroneous details on practically every page. For example, it is finally revealed that the book begins in 1977 - yet she mentions Madonna who wasn't around until the 1980s. Another example - her first day of school the author carries a backback full of school books. Where did she get them? In the mail?
The writing style is poor. For example, the author suddenly starts drinking on the morning she starts at her new school. Her description is that she HAD BEEN pilfering Southern Comfort from her parents liquor cabinet for a while, but she didn't drink any. No mention of liquor in the house before this. And when did mom get a job? Previously, the author had written that mom was watching out the window and she and her brother harvested 15 acres of crops by hand. (average city block is 2-1/2 acres so that's 7 blocks of produce). Better writing would begin with, "mom got a job and I started pilfering the liquor" and include fear of getting caught, etc. At any rate on the first day of school the author sips some of the liquor and IMMEDIATELY feels giggly (another erroneous detail).
It's just not a believable book. I could not finish 3 chapters.
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