| “The first time I heard I was a murderer was in Miss Johnson’s class in second grade.”
So begins the memoir of Jewel Beth Davis, a woman who grew up in a Jewish household in the fifties and sixties in Quincy, Massachusetts, in a neighborhood that had very few Jewish families, and where people thought of Jews only in terms of killing Christ. The resulting adult is both psychologically flawed and uniquely creative.
The memoir is a compilation of humor-based… |
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