Wild Game: My Mother, Her Lover, and Me by Adrienne Brodeur ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
I am not typically a huge fan of memoirs unless they’ve got lots of action, drugs, sex, and rock and roll... but this one got me. It took me a bit to get into at first, but I think that was mostly life’s distractions. When I was able to settle into it, I became enthralled. At the age of fourteen, when Rennie should be gaining a sense of independence, she is brought in as an accomplice to her mother’s affair. In the years and decades that follow, we see how this affects Rennie’s life and future relationships. We have a front row seat to the drama and pain of being raised by a narcissistic mother. While it’s not specifically mentioned in the memoir, Rennie’s mother Malabar seemed textbook narcissistic. This memoir was heartfelt and meaningful. Highly recommend if you like family drama memoirs.
“If we are to believe that a butterfly flapping its wings in South America can stir up a storm in Texas, what might be the unruly consequence of an illicit kiss on a country road?”
“I knew that every time I failed to become more like my mother, I became more like me”.
I am not typically a huge fan of memoirs unless they’ve got lots of action, drugs, sex, and rock and roll... but this one got me. It took me a bit to get into at first, but I think that was mostly life’s distractions. When I was able to settle into it, I became enthralled. At the age of fourteen, when Rennie should be gaining a sense of independence, she is brought in as an accomplice to her mother’s affair. In the years and decades that follow, we see how this affects Rennie’s life and future relationships. We have a front row seat to the drama and pain of being raised by a narcissistic mother. While it’s not specifically mentioned in the memoir, Rennie’s mother Malabar seemed textbook narcissistic. This memoir was heartfelt and meaningful. Highly recommend if you like family drama memoirs.
“If we are to believe that a butterfly flapping its wings in South America can stir up a storm in Texas, what might be the unruly consequence of an illicit kiss on a country road?”
“I knew that every time I failed to become more like my mother, I became more like me”.