100 books like The Truth about Grandparents

Jean Regan has written a beautiful, funny, heartwarming story about the love and fun that is shared between the different generations, a grandmother and a granddaughter. I love the way she has reversed the roles of her main characters. This approach will appeal to little ones who will definitely want to babysit their grandma while still enjoying all the wonderful activities that a visit to Grandma’s house entails. The illustrations are cute, detailed, and add to the storyline. This is a great little book for parents to read to their children before they visit and a good source of activity ideas for grandmas to have for their little guests once they arrive.

Claire Freedom uses animal characters to tell this story about the wonderful, loving relationships that exist between grandparents and a grandchild. I love the fact that it is never quite made clear whether the grandchild is a boy or a girl and as a result, the story applies to both. Children will quickly see themselves as the little zebra having fun and being spoiled rotten by two loving grandparents. The rhyming adds to the flow of the book.

I love the humour in this story. Grandpa definitely knows how to entertain and have fun with his grandson. This book shows how special bonds are formed between the young and the not-so-young. Age is not a barrier. The words and illustrations work extremely well together. In many instances, the picture gives the correct meaning to the written part which results in bringing a smile to your face. This book is a fun read.

I love this crazy, silly book. The plot will captivate the children’s attention as there are so many twists and turns throughout the story. Are the grandmas really grandmas or are they aliens? How will they solve this mystery? The use of rhyme adds to the flow and humour of the tale. Illustrations are imaginative and off the wall funny. The ending is priceless. I think there definitely should be a sequel.

This is a beautiful book that encourages children to use their own imagination. It tells the story of a little girl, Nora, who explores her grandma’s garden  — and her imagination, to look for a tiger that supposedly lives there. The illustrations are colourful and detailed and hold hidden clues for the younger readers to look for.

An antique Chinese mirror transforms the lives’ of two women. Shay Garrett lives in the modern times and her grandmother lives in 1900. On the eve of their marriages, both women find themselves transported from one era to the other. I love this epic time-travel tale of suspense where one young woman contends with love, and identity, and knowing too much in a society far removed from the loud, freer modern times she grew up in, and another young woman deals with the confusion of a raucous world where decorum doesn’t exist, nothing makes sense, and her granddaughter's handsome fiancé is someone she hasn’t got the strength to resist.  

One night, Cosmo’s grandfather—who has started to forget things—gives him a key and tells him to go to Blackbrick, a crumbling estate on the edge of town. When Cosmo arrives there in the middle of the night and unlocks the front gate, he finds himself stepping back in time—and making friends with his fifteen-year-old grandfather. Back to Blackbrick is about time travel. It’s about love. It’s about learning to live with loss. It’s quietly tender and deeply emotional. And it’s one of the most life-affirming books I’ve ever read.

An epistolary novel written as a letter from an elderly German man explaining his time as a soldier on the Eastern Front to his grandson. The novel has both the immediacy of a wartime narrative and the introspection of a memoir. “Eat now, sleep now, march now, follow your leader — that’s what they’d demanded of us; we’d followed, and they’d led us into disaster,” the narrator says as he describes his own predicament, but it serves to explain the horrors of the regime as a whole. It resonated for me personally, highlighting the silence and shame that surrounds the experiences of so many Germans who were young adults during WW2. Starritt is half-Scottish and half-German, and We Germans was inspired in part by his grandfather’s time on the Eastern Front. The novel was the recipient of the Dayton Peace Prize.

A non-fiction recommendation this time, and a recent release.

Hennigan’s essay collection is a beautifully written account of the final years, and opaque recollections, of her grandmother Phil, who spent much of her life in various psychiatric institutions.

I have been interested in this theme for years – Ireland, in the first decades after independence from Britain, has some of the highest rates of citizen incarceration in the world: prisons, borstals, orphanages, magdalen laundries, and psychiatric hospitals both provided employment and regulation and also kept a whole population of ‘problem’ people out of sight).

This fact, and its repercussions in culture today, fascinate me, and Hennigan’s gentle and loving consideration of Phil’s trauma, loneliness, mania, and the maternal lineage it involves (her own mother was institutionalized) is also an angry illustration of just how badly women and the working class have been treated here.

I read all of Blackwood’s novels and stories when researching my first biography, on the life of Caroline Blackwood. This is the one that stayed with me, Blackwood’s semi-autobiographical novella of Dunmartin Manor, housing three generations of Websters and Dunmartins. From the cold cruelty of the narrator’s great grandmother, to the fairy-like madness of her grandmother, and the tragedy of her fun-loving but suicidal Aunt Lavinia, all seem like extensions of the mansion—a decaying, grand old house, freezing in the winter, sweltering in the summer, and given to flooding. Like the house itself, the characters are trapped by the weight of their own Anglo-Irish, aristocratic history. No conflagration here, except for the cremation of Great Granny Webster.