Memoir

My mom lent me a memoir called "Let's Not Go to the Dogs Tonight: An African Childhood." It's extremely interesting, but barely a third in, I'm completely depressed. We have a whole slew of dead animals, an alcoholic mother and two dead babies. What could possibly be ahead?? I'm wondering if this whole memoir crazy world is going to make us a much more depressed society. After all, shouldn't reading be escapist? Why waste time diving head first into someone's depressing reality? Sigh... I'll keep reading though. The book is interesting. And therein lies the problem...