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Annie john kincaid7/5/2023 It's like a better version of Hemmingway, and not over rated. There are no unnecessary words, either for length and syntax or for unnecessary show-off vocabulary. The style is neat and plain without being dull or inanely simplified. Unlike modern auto-fiction, the events here are not cleanly and easily mapped onto Kincaid's life. It’s a story about attitude, a variation on the voice novel, and an early example of the intersection between memoir and fiction. 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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