I grew up in a big polygamist family, the 23rd of 46 children. My father had six wives and our very existence was a secret. We lived in the middle of Salt Lake City in a big white house on Fifth East, with neighbors to the north and south of us and yet we remained utterly hidden. Homeschooled and cut off rom the world, that secrecy was a breeding ground for abuse. While my father was gone to work during the day, his third wife, Mother Kay, sat at the head of the family, controlling the other mothers and abusing the children. I was one of the bad kids, deemed "willfully disobedient" and I ended up right in her crosshairs. How can one woman take command of an entire family? Was my father turning a blind eye or was he behind it? And why did my mother take direction from a woman half her age—choosing to look the other way?
I carried these unanswered questions into my own marriage and my own family, hoping I could myself off from the religion of my upbringing and the shame of the abuse. I put my face to the future, hoping I could outrun what was hunting me down. I thought having my own family would free me. But the past clung to me like a shadow and I couldn't deny the darkness that lived in me. When the past finally caught up to me, I knew I had to face that darkness—and what I found was nothing like I figured.
Not in My House is more than a story of trauma and abuse. It is more than a story of polygamy and the struggle to free oneself from a religious cult. It is the story of how evil is perpetuated, how shame becomes seared into the next generation like a family crest and how one's own past can never, ever be escaped.
I grew up in a big polygamist family, the 23rd of 46 children. My father had six wives and our very existence was a secret. We lived in the middle of Salt Lake City in a big white house on Fifth East, with neighbors to the north and south of us and yet we remained utterly hidden. Homeschooled and cut off from the world, that secrecy was a breeding ground for abuse. While my father was gone to work during the day, his third wife, Mother Kay, sat at the head of the family, controlling the other mothers and abusing the children. I was one of the bad kids, deemed "willfully disobedient" and I ended up right in her crosshairs. How can one woman take command of an entire family? Was my father turning a blind eye or was he behind it? And why did my mother take direction from a woman half her age - choosing to look the other way? I carried these unanswered questions into my own marriage and my own family, hoping I could cut myself off from the religion of my upbringing and the shame of the abuse. I put my face to the future, hoping I could outrun what was hunting me down. I thought having my own family would free me. But the past clung to me like a shadow and I couldn't deny the darkness that lived in me. When the past finally caught up to me, I knew I had to face that darkness - and what I found was nothing like I figured.Not in My House is more than a story of trauma and abuse. It is more than a story of polygamy and the struggle to free oneself from a religious cult. It is the story of how evil is perpetuated, how shame becomes seared into the next generation like a family crest and how one's own past can never, ever be escaped.
Not In My House: A Memoir is one of those rare books that doesn’t just tell a story — it reveals the making of a remarkable human being. I have known Susanna Barlow since 2009. From the moment I met her and her husband, I was struck by her intellect, her genuineness, her clarity, and her ability to express truth in ways that stay with you. Over the years, she has helped me and my wife better understand the value of effort, love, gratitude, and generosity. Reading her memoir didn’t change my view of her — it deepened the respect and awe I already felt. Susanna was the 23rd of 46 children in a polygamous family where secrecy was a way of life. That secrecy created an environment where fear and abuse could flourish unchecked. The trauma she endured — physical, emotional, and at times sexual — spills from the pages with a rawness that is both heartbreaking and courageous. There were moments that nearly brought me to tears, and moments when I wanted to scream at the perpetrators of her suffering. And yet, within all that pain, Susanna never loses sight of the humanity of the people who harmed her. Her forgiveness is not weakness; it is a profound act of healing. It is the kind of forgiveness that can only come from someone who has done the hard work of reclaiming her own life. The writing itself is extraordinary. Susanna’s voice is clear, honest, and deeply human. She transports the reader into her world — not as a distant observer, but as someone walking beside her, witnessing the most vulnerable parts of her existence. The memoir is beautifully crafted, filled with insight and emotional truth. What moved me most was seeing how the qualities I’ve admired in her — wisdom, generosity, gratitude, and love — were not accidents. They were forged in the fire of her early life. Understanding the depth of what she overcame only strengthens my appreciation for the woman she has become. Not In My House is a powerful, painful, hopeful memoir. It is a testament to resilience, to healing, and to the extraordinary strength of the human spirit. I recommend it to anyone who wants to understand trauma, forgiveness, and the quiet miracle of becoming whole.
My favorite memoirs provide a great story of a life very different to mine whose moments and images stay with me, wrapped in lessons which can apply broadly and relate to my life. This book does exactly that. This story starts in the “little big house” on 5th East, Susanna is a daughter in a polygamist family burdened with secrets, shame and the common bond of trauma from years abused in the home’s schoolroom. Her concrete reality is expressed with brutal honesty. She believes her escape will be the day she marries Aaron, but she is unprepared for how her past will haunt her, risking the safety of her children and her ability to create a real home. How can she end the cycle and protect her young family? It isn’t until she is forced to bring all the secrets out into the light, to call out the atrocities, that she finds a path to truth and transformation. These big abstract ideas, forgiveness, accountability, love, and the power of choice are rendered so effectively, tenderly, poetically. This wonderful book provided me with lessons and points of view I can apply in my own life and relationships. Highly recommend! (the audiobook version read by the author is amazing)
Really powerful application of healing, forgiving and choosing to live a beautiful life despite experiencing so much pain. The writing was incredible.
In part one, I was sick to stomach, heartbroken, and sad. But was so inspired when the author found her courage, healing, and the love she deserved in parts two and three.
Even with the stories and events being so heavy, I had a hard time setting this book down and also enjoyed listening to some chapters on audible to hear the author’s voice. I will be reading this book again and again.
I listened to this memoir after a woman I follow on social media, whose reading tastes often overlap with mine, mentioned she was reading it. It sounded interesting, and it was. I gave it four stars, but there were parts of the storytelling that left me wanting more.
My biggest struggle was understanding how the author arrived at such a significant change in perspective. After enduring childhood abuse, she describes deciding that her interactions with her husband and what she does for her family should come from a place of love. That felt like an enormous shift, but I didn’t feel we were shown the process behind it. Was there a conversation, something she read, or a gradual understanding? Given everything she had experienced, I wanted to understand how she got there. The revelation felt abrupt to me.
I also wanted to know more about her development as a writer. Clearly, she can write, but I came away knowing little about where that part of her life began. Did she love books growing up? When did she start writing? That felt like a meaningful piece of her story that was missing.
The balance of memories was another difficulty for me. Later in the book, she recalls good moments that hadn’t appeared in the earlier telling of her life. I would have appreciated having some of those woven into the beginning. The relentless sadness made it difficult for me to stay engaged, and at one point I considered not finishing.
I find memoirs hard to rate because someone is sharing their own life, often including deeply painful experiences. My reservations are about how the story was told and the connections I wanted to understand more fully. Overall, this was an interesting listen, even if it left me with some unanswered questions.
I went on an emotional rollercoaster, days later I’m still trying to process everything I read. From childhood, to newly married, to years of life experience, Susanna puts her life into a story you CANNOT put down.
I got so much insight from this book, as she goes through the waves of life, pain, humility, religion, and forgiveness. There’s a lot to reflect on, dwell on, and yes, to be completely enraged and resentful.
Her book was picked for a book club, I swear we could’ve gone chapter by chapter and had full discussion all the way through.
I love a good memoir - this one was incredible! It’s raw and full of depth. It’s painful and heavy. But it’s also beautiful, insightful, and shows the reader how resilient the human spirit can be, especially after trauma.
The author has a gift of storytelling, sharing emotions that are difficult to feel, let alone share. I was cheering her on as I followed her life, and was happy she found love, & healing.
I loved the flow of this book and how every chapter felt meaningful and important. The author also does an impeccable job narrating it, which made the experience even more powerful. I truly think this is a book everyone should read, whether they’ve experienced trauma in their past or not.