Mothers and daughters. Secrets, truths and memories. Are we remembering or interpreting the past? A compelling work of fiction.
Memorable lines:
I don'€™t remember how long my mother spent in that place. I don'€™t know how many times they strapped her down with leather belts, put a block of rubber in her mouth, attached the wires and flicked the switch.
And no one thinks any worse of them for having once been persuaded to believe in a lie. They'€™re not damned for life, and never allowed to be forgiven, for having once believed the lie.
What'€™s the point of looking back all the time,€“ wondering how things might have been, what would have happened if things had been different? Things are just how they are or how they were.€™