I laughed out loud reading the disclaimer:
Although this is a work of nonfiction and represents the whole, unsullied, objective truth, I am advised of the slim chance that some of the people described in this book might remember things differently. To accommodate that absurd possibility, all of the names except for those of my immediate family have been changed.
My laughter tapered off, though, and by the end I wasn’t smiling. Not that it wasn’t a good book, I just got tired of it, I guess. This memoir of teenage years oozes a bit too much teenage angst for me.
I did find myself wondering if my reaction would have been different if I’d read this one before Salzman’s other memoir, Iron & Silk. Guess I’ll never know the answer to that one, though.
I feel like I’m being too hard on this book; it wasn’t really that bad: I finished its 269 pages within 24 hours of when I started it.
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