This is a memoir that is a somewhat unsual one because it covers the lifespan of a young girl from the age of 7 to 21. It is a story of a real-life Lolita, and if Nabokov’s famous work fascinated you even remotely, this post-modernist work from the 1980s onwards set in one of the most populous areas on the East coast of the United States will certainly do much more than fascinate. It will astonish and alarm, as it will repel and repulse, even as it draws you into a world of tragic proportions where families are dysfunctional to the point of being the enablers of the victimization of such a young girl.
But what is interesting is how the perpetrator is humanized by her own victim to the point that one begins to understand the Stockholm syndrome with some clarity.
All in all, one of those stories akin to watching a bad road accident: you wish to look away, but you can’t. Besides, if you are a female reader, and especially one with young daughters of your own, it is almost out of a sense of parental duty that you feel compelled to read through this story of a young girls’ journey to hell and back– knowing all along that the young girl in question didn’t even realize that she had been on this long journey herself.