I imagined we’d get more tales of self-destruction. What we get is more shocking, and sadder ... Is it all those lost decades of drink and drugs that account for the Wikipedia-like blandness of her memories, the many times she has to reference another’s memoir to bring specificity to her own? ... I’m not sure the story I absorbed is the story Liza wanted to tell—or maybe I got it perfectly—but the subject of this memoir, despite her lifelong war with her mother’s shadow, is still running, running, running from herself.
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