
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
Once again, I think this memoir was written more for the author than for anyone else as she tries to process the murder of her mother by her stepfather. However, Trethewey is actually a brilliant writer and her processing becomes compelling for the reader. Trethewey is exceptional at taking a picture and seeing meaning in the details. The use of her early memory of drowning which bookends the book illustrates how we tell a narrative to ourselves, and hers is especially literary, full of symbolism and metaphor. She is careful to only use her memories, pictures, and documents which is responsible for a memoirist, especially with other people in the book still living. Still, I can't help but feel the holes that are missing (what about the half-brother? how did her mother's relationships affect her own relationships, esp. with her husband? where was the birth father during this time?)
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