I just read this . . .

“I am my mama’s daughter, her shadow on the earth, the blood thinned down a little so that I am not as powerful as she, as immune to want and desire. I am not a mountain or a cave, a force of nature or a power on the earth, but I have her talent for not seeing what I cannot stand to face . . . I keep in mind the image of a closed door, Mama weeping on the other side. She could not rescue me. I cannot rescue her. Sometimes I cannot even reach across the wall that separates us.”

Trash by Dorothy Allison

Everyone should just go read this book. Right now. Allison manages, in the span of less than 200 pages, to capture the essence of  the importance–and detriment–of family, but it’s also so much more than that. The prose is magnificent (see above). This autobiographical work hurts to read–because it is so raw, so real.

No, really. Just go read it. You’ll thank me later.


Published by Liz

I'm a writer living and working in Cincinnati, OH. I've been writing for ages and ages. Somehow now I'm actually getting someone to pay me to do it.

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