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carollynnrivera 's review for:
Inheritance: A Memoir of Genealogy, Paternity, and Love
by Dani Shapiro
I initially found this book a little hard to get into, I think in part because it jumped right into the drama of the story before I had a chance to care about anyone. Maybe if I had a little time to build some empathy around the author and her family, the shock would have been more meaningful as opposed to feeling like I was reading a news article.
In reading other reviews, I tend to agree that it did feel self-indulgent and self-centered at times, which yes, is an odd thing to say about a memoir. It's hard to explain why, just that there was a "woe is me" kind of tone, contrasted so sharply against everyone else's understanding and kindness and total acceptance. From her husband to her son to her aunt to the man she ultimately identified as her father, she had (by her own description) an incredible amount of support and love.
I can't speak to the shock and emotional upheaval of what it must feel like to find out that something so core to your identity is not what you thought. So I hesitate a bit to write this, but given how fortunate she was in so many ways, it's hard to be as sympathetic as I want to be. She wasn't abused, abandoned, deceived, rejected, neglected or any of the zillion other things that could have been hurtful. I presume not everyone in her situation is as fortunate.
I appreciated the introspection about what makes us who we are and what family really means, but I wish there had been more written around that and less about the angsty minutes and hours spent waiting for emails.
So ultimately it was interesting as a story, and I felt it definitely was more engaging as the book went on, but it wasn't exactly heart-wrenching. And they all lived happily ever after, so I don't have to feel bad writing this.
In reading other reviews, I tend to agree that it did feel self-indulgent and self-centered at times, which yes, is an odd thing to say about a memoir. It's hard to explain why, just that there was a "woe is me" kind of tone, contrasted so sharply against everyone else's understanding and kindness and total acceptance. From her husband to her son to her aunt to the man she ultimately identified as her father, she had (by her own description) an incredible amount of support and love.
I can't speak to the shock and emotional upheaval of what it must feel like to find out that something so core to your identity is not what you thought. So I hesitate a bit to write this, but given how fortunate she was in so many ways, it's hard to be as sympathetic as I want to be. She wasn't abused, abandoned, deceived, rejected, neglected or any of the zillion other things that could have been hurtful. I presume not everyone in her situation is as fortunate.
I appreciated the introspection about what makes us who we are and what family really means, but I wish there had been more written around that and less about the angsty minutes and hours spent waiting for emails.
So ultimately it was interesting as a story, and I felt it definitely was more engaging as the book went on, but it wasn't exactly heart-wrenching. And they all lived happily ever after, so I don't have to feel bad writing this.