Never would I have known what an ASS Picasso was - should never had any children!!
This is a weak book in most respects.
The premise is thin, the specifics are few, the stance is pure victim and the text is disjointed.
A tone of hopelessness is apparent from the beginning. The book is one long complaint and so personal as to be hard to relate to.
While I don't discount the author's suffering, I do think it is very poorly expressed in this book.
I did like her appreciation of some of her family members, but otherwise her complaint is one long spate of 'shoulds'. While she criticizes her father for being too weak to make his own living, she in turn is too weak to shape her own life as she would like it.
Expecting others to be what we want them to be is futile. For a child, this is extremely hard, but many of us have endured narcissistic parents and have learned not to expect from them what they cannot give.
She oddly turns to Vietnam to focus her inheritance on. Why she doesn't love her own country enough is very sad.
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