Dives tells us the stories of her contrasting grandfathers, one at a time; beginning with her mother’s father, whom she feels alienated from and whose bitterness and lack of support of creative endeavors she suggests her mother has also inherited. She writes about encountering her grandfather on his deathbed, staying in his hospital room though she “didn’t feel sympathy for him [but] didn’t want him to be left alone because it seemed too sad”. In this grandpa’s story, Dives focuses mainly on her feelings surrounding his death and her fears that she may have also inherited his overly critical eye. She relaxes much more when she writes of her other grandfather, describing his habits and idiosyncrasies in a rose-tinted light. Dives’ prose is spare, as though these pieces are taken from letters to friends, the details and family history laid out simply on the table with her corresponding sentiments. While the stories of Dives’ grandparents are engaging and often tragic, I don’t feel like I’m given enough information to feel strongly connected to what is going on within them. (Sarah Pinder)
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