I have not been as profoundly moved by a book in years. Bess Kalb's fictional factual tribute to the relationship she had with her grandmother - the way her history was passed to her by blood, along with bright memories and Jewish guilt and fierce, fierce love - could have been my own story. When I stop crying, I'm calling my mother immediately and making her read it. If you have a mother or grandmother, or ARE a mother or a grandmother, this is required reading'
One of the most charming personal narratives I've ever read. Kalb has all the exacting craftsmanship of Joan Didion, the wit of David Sedaris, and a heart that is so brimming with affection that you feel as though Bobby is your own grandmother. This book is up there with Steel Magnolias in terms of 'things my mum and I ugly cry at together'. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll want to convert to Judaism.
I am so charmed by this book and wish my grandmother were still alive so I could call her