Jen R.’s Reviews > The Autobiography of My Mother > Status Update
Jen R.
is on page 218 of 228
He and I lived in this spell, the spell of history.
I wore the color black, the color of mourners. I dressed him in the colors of the newly born, the innocent, the weak, youth: white, pale blue, pale yellow, and anything that had faded; these were not the colors of any flag.
— Aug 07, 2026 03:13PM
I wore the color black, the color of mourners. I dressed him in the colors of the newly born, the innocent, the weak, youth: white, pale blue, pale yellow, and anything that had faded; these were not the colors of any flag.
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Jen’s Previous Updates
Jen R.
is on page 184 of 228
it was in the small parts of something that its true whole is expressed, it is in the small parts of something that its real beauty lies.
— Aug 06, 2026 04:58PM
Jen R.
is on page 90 of 228
On his face, though, was that mask; it was the same mask he wore when stealing all that was left from an unfortunate someone who had lost so much already. It was the same mask he wore when he guided an event, regardless of its truth, to an end that would benefit him.
— Aug 05, 2026 11:29AM
Jen R.
is on page 62 of 228
In this sort of house lived people whose skins glistened with exhaustion and whose faces were sad even when they had a reason to be happy, people for whom history had been a big, dark room, which made them hate silence.
— Aug 02, 2026 05:23PM
Jen R.
is on page 52 of 228
She bore a boy first, then she had a girl. This had two predictable outcomes: she left me alone and she valued her son more than her daughter. That she did not think very much of the person who was most like her, a daughter, a female, was so normal that it would have been noticed only if it had been otherwise: to people like us, despising anything that was most like ourselves was almost a law of nature.
— Aug 02, 2026 01:41PM
Jen R.
is on page 41 of 228
in my father's house, which was her home, I tried to cloak myself in an atmosphere of apology. I did not in fact feel sorry for anything at all, I had not done anything, either deliberately or by accident, that warranted my begging for forgiveness, but my gait was a weapon—a way of deflecting her attention from me, of persuading her to think of me as someone who was pitiable, an ignorant child.
— Aug 02, 2026 01:15PM