What a terrible book! The story of a person who didn’t live their own life, but instead embodied a script created by a madly loving mother. And the key word here is “madly.” The image of that deranged mother obsessed with controlling her son inspires real horror. Of course, the mother is unhappy and alone, of course, the child is the only one, of course, from the person she loves without anything else… This is the usual scheme—something that often happens in life. It’s only the woman’s character that isn’t quite ordinary: in many ways, if you disregard the education system, it elicits respectful awe. Iron endurance, unsinkability in any life circumstances, fanatical faith in her destiny, asceticism—the ability to refuse herself everything if it’s necessary—that’s the whole thing. All for the sake of creating the best possible life conditions for her son, Roman. And if it were done for him just because he exists—so that he might grow and become a person… But no, by no means! For the mother, he is not just her beloved son, a forming human being—he is a hostage to her monstrous ambition and her delusion of grandeur. The unhappy woman with steel nerves and a character beaten by life sees in the child someone who must take revenge on this world for her own losses and failures. Therefore, from early childhood he lives not his own life, but the one devised for him by his mother—trying, as children usually do, to be the best for her and patiently indulging her, sometimes rather cruel, whims. And all his life afterward—he lives the same way, not for himself, but for the mother who has long been dead, yet continues to triumph.