Her mother, in the effort to stay afloat, moved from houses to motel rooms to apartments, if need be a tent on an Indian reservation. Livingston came of age in a family of five sisters with five absentee fathers (and two brothers). She could draw horses so they galloped off the page and instructed her daughter, “Live free or die - I’m telling you girl, there’s no other way.” She held the Catholic anti-abortion stance as inviolate, but shrugged off the sacrament of marriage. In the kitchen, she worked like a pastry chef, but neglected the food shopping. Livingston’s mother was a slippery fish, consistent mostly in her incongruities. “My mother had always swelled with promise, talked of milk and honey, but was hard to hold on to in the wind,” writes Sonja Livingston in her lyrical memoir.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |