Like memory itself, like a frank conversation about the past face to face, from the first page to the last it is a chain of isolated episodes, the meaning and meaning of which is not clouded by judgments, parallels, analysis or grievances. Episodes from the life of a girl, later a girl, built on a timeline by an adult woman and the mother she became many years later. The troubled story of her growing up was distinguished from numerous similar ones by only one circumstance: her father, who did not recognize her, was named Steve Jobs. “The time that we spent together did not flow smoothly, but in jerks, like the frames of a cartoon, drawn on the corners of pages in a notebook, replacing each other.” , writes Lisa Brennan-Jobs about those years when she was looking for her place next to her father. Meanwhile, it turned out to be on the other side of the continent, on the shore of another ocean.