The book pulls your forward with the usual tale of someone growing up and realising their relationship with their parents can never be the same. It’s a biographical structure, without an obvious plot. This is a marvellous novella (150 pages) about a teenager outgrowing her home. For I could not be sure whether for the rest of my life I would be able to tell when it was really my mother and when it was really her shadow standing between me and the rest of the world. It was a big and solid shadow, and it looked so much like my mother than I became frightened. Out of the corner of my other eye, I could see her shadow on the wall, cast there by the lamplight. Out of the corner of one eye, I could see my mother. "Yes but I want my own trunk," I said back. You have your mother's trunk," he said to me. Then, turning to me, my father asked what he could make for me.
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