Summary of Yelena Lembersky's Like a Drop of Ink in a Downpour

By IRB Media

Please note: This is a companion version & not the original book. Book Preview:

#1 I had walked holding my thumbs folded into my fists, a Russian superstition: hold your thumbs and think of someone to bring them good luck. I had watched as Mama went down into the metro station with the stench of burned rubber.

#2 I was placed in a children’s asylum, and while I was there, I didn’t speak about my mother. I was numb, and I wanted to free myself from the hatred that had consumed me.

#3 I walk to the forest near my old home. I sit on an old apple tree by the pond. I write a letter to Mama. I forget the unimportant things in quietude, and I meet what has been lost.

#4 I remember my old landlady at the summer dacha in Leningrad, who had a tattoo of the word Mama on her shoulder. I wanted to explain to my American friend that people need to live in houses with a lawn and a garden, so they can plant flowers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: IRB Media
• Release date: Jun 9, 2022
• ISBN: 9798822537101

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Insights on Yelena Lembersky's Like a Drop of Ink in a Downpour

Contents

Insights from Chapter 1

Insights from Chapter 2

Insights from Chapter 3

Insights from Chapter 1

#1

I had walked holding my thumbs folded into my fists, a Russian superstition: hold your thumbs and think of someone to bring them good luck. I had watched as Mama went down into the metro station with the stench of burned rubber.

#2

I was placed in a children’s asylum, and while I was there, I didn’t speak about my mother. I was numb, and I wanted to free myself from the hatred that had consumed me.

#3

I walk to the forest near my old home. I sit on an old apple tree by the pond. I write a letter to Mama. I forget the unimportant things in quietude, and I meet what has been lost.

#4

I remember my old landlady at the summer dacha in Leningrad, who had a tattoo of the word Mama on her shoulder. I wanted to explain to my American friend that people need to live in houses with a lawn and a garden, so they can plant flowers.

#5

In late fall, when cold wind comes in gusts, our neighborhood gets ready for winter. Scratchy woolen sweaters, mittens, scarves, and long johns that our grandmothers knit over the summer come out of boxes that were stored under beds.

#6

I was born in Leningrad in 1969. My mother, Galia, was married. She busied herself in the rhythms of her