Thereâ??s a story long told about a man who grew up on Crete during the Second World War. One morning a Nazi motorcyclist crashed near his house and in the wreckage he discovered a broken side mirror. He took a shard and, blunting its edges, turned it into a plaything, learning to shine light into dark corners. Eventually he discovered this to be a reflection of his lifeâ??s meaning (see Robert Fulghumâ??s It Was on Fire When I Lay Down on It).
Barbara Ehrenreichâ??s lively narrative begins in a similar search for meaning. In a remarkably frank account â?? candid in the ancient sense of light-bearing incandescence â?? she shares something of her adolescent journal, describing a radically self-centered young woman, her struggles, and eventual emergence into understanding herself as a member of a wider community, a species with more than one member. She does not stop at the end of adolescence, but continues the journey into her eighth decade. This is a spiritual autobiography, albeit in possibly unfamiliar language.
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