She and her husband, journalist Michael Maren, are a formidable team as together they figure out who the biological father was, and where - and why, and how - in Philadelphia the conception took place. “What never fail to draw me in,” she writes, “are secrets.” The reader experiences the grief, surprises and setbacks right along with the author.Įven as she is devastated, it’s clear that Shapiro is, in some ways, excited by this puzzle. “Inheritance” reads like a mystery, unfolding minute by minute and day by day. It had never occurred to her, not once, that her parents, now dead, weren’t who she had always believed them to be.Īnd so begins a remarkable, dogged, emotional journey as Shapiro digs into the past to find the truth. So when the DNA test results came back telling Shapiro that she was only 52 percent Ashkenazi Jew, and the other 48 percent was a mix of French, Irish, English and German, it was a bombshell. Her mother had once dropped the odd fact that Dani - an only child - was conceived in Philadelphia, but when pressed said only, “Oh, you don’t want to know. “Yet I never had any doubt that I was part of the chain that reached back and back through the generations, unbroken.” “I was the lone pale, blond child in the sea of dark-haired, dark-eyed grandchildren,” she writes.
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