Tag: Young Adult

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“Grandpa’s Great Escape” by David Walliams

I don’t make a habit of criticising other author’s work. I know how difficult it is to write a novel. I know that the beauty of a book is often in the eye of the beholder and everyone has different tastes. What gives me the right to make a value judgment about a novel? However, every so often, a book comes along which leaves me so riled up I’m afraid I can’t keep from being critical. 

I’ve never read any of David Walliam’s kids’ books before. I knew they were incredibly popular – NUMBER ONE bestsellers, according to the cover- and I also knew many of my friends and colleagues in the kids’ book world had reservations about both Walliam’s work and also the increasing popularity of children’s books written by celebrity authors. I’m not going to wade into that argument, but I do think they are voicing legitimate concerns and, if Grandpa’s Great Escape is similar to the rest of Walliams’ work I’d have to say I have huge issues with his lazy and borderline misogynistic portrayal of women, his lazy, cliched, offensive depictions of BAME characters and the slightly snide and sneery way he writes about working class people. Putting these reservations aside for the moment, however, I will attempt to focus on Walliams’ exploration of dementia in this novel.

Dementia is not mentioned by name in Grandpa’s Great Escape but as the novel begins with the line “one day Grandpa began to forget things,” and Walliams goes on to outline how he’s taken to wandering off at night, confusing the past with the present and does not recognise close family members, it’s fair to say Grandpa has developed dementia. The novel’s plot outlines his adventures with his grandson Jack. Swept up in an extended delusion that he’s still living in the days of WW2 when he served his country as a fighter pilot, Grandpa runs away from home, hides out in a spitfire in the Imperial War Museum, is incarcerated in an old people’s home which he mistakes for a Prisoner of War camp, leads a mass break out from the home and eventually steals a spitfire from the Imperial War Museum which he flies away in. The plot is quite frankly absurd, but it is a children’s book and I’m all for wild flights of fancy in literature aimed at both children and adults. The problem here is the tone. Most of the outlandish events are written with such flippancy that the suspension of disbelief disintegrates instantly. Walliams has often been accused of being diet-Dahl but he lacks Dahl’s ability to believe his own magic. The made up stuff feels made up and I doubt it would make it past the discerning imagination of most eight year olds. It is badly written nonsense.

I’d be annoyed if this was all Walliams was offering his readers, but I think Grandpa’s Great Escape is so much worse than a poorly written piece of children’s literature. It’s attempting to address an important issue; presenting a character with dementia to countless young readers who might well have a grandparent or loved one living with the illness. As such, it’s unforgivable. Grandpa’s dementia is like no dementia I’ve ever encountered in almost fifteen years of working in this area. He can’t remember his family, confuses times and dates, forgets things and yet manages to mastermind elaborate escape plans, fly a spitfire plane, enter into complicated conversations and at all times remain fastidiously and neatly dressed in full army regalia. It’s quite clear from this portrayal that Walliams has done no research at all into how dementia would actually impact an elderly man or what effect the condition might have on his young grandson. Furthermore, the depiction of the residential care facility Grandpa’s moved into is terrifying. He’s drugged, physically abused by carers and isolated from his family. If I were reading this novel, as a young person whose grandpa had dementia, I’d be both terrified by the possibility he might be incarcerated in a Colditz-style care home and also full of the false hope that he might make a miraculous recovery from his illness. 

At best this book is badly written. At worst it’s downright harmful and instils a false narrative about dementia. I wish all those children, (or perhaps parents), who’ve made it a NUMBER ONE bestseller had instead picked up one of the amazing books for kids I’ve previously highlighted on the blog. 

Grandpa’s Great Escape was published by Harper Collins in 2015 

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“The Granny Project” by Anne Fine

The Granny Project is a short YA novel written by Carnegie Medal winning writer Anne Fine and first published in 1983. It later found a place on the school curriculum and was adapted into a popular play. It opens with the mother and father of the family announcing the intention to put the children’s beloved grandmother into a nursing home.

“Are you two thinking of putting Granny into a home?”

“Thinking is finished,” Natasha told him. “It is decided.”

The four children -Ivan, Sophie, Tanya and Nicholas- subsequently hatch a cunning plan, (the Granny Project of the title). They will gather data which paints their parents attempts at caring for Granny, who is living with Dementia, in a very negative light. If Henry and Natasha don’t back down and allow Granny to stay in the house, they will hand this report in as a Social Sciences project, mortifying their parents. It’s an effective means of blackmail and eventually Henry and Natasha agree that Granny can stay. 

However, they do not fill their children in on the conditions associated with their acquiescence until the Granny Project has been destroyed. As soon as the written evidence is burnt, they inform the children that they are now solely responsible for their grandmother’s care. The children soon learn exactly how much work goes into caring for an elderly person living with Dementia, though I have to say, they -especially Ivan- make a valiant effort at giving the old lady the respect and attention she deserves. Just at the point when the situation is once again becoming intolerable, Granny sadly develops pneumonia and passes away. Towards the end of the novel, the older children reflect on the two forms of care their granny experienced at the end of her life. 

“Ivan, if Granny hadn’t died, and we could start again, would you still vote for keeping her at home?”

“Yes,” Ivan said.

“Just the same?”

“No, not just the same. Not with the system where they did all the work, and hated it. Or with the one where I did.”

It’s these insights into caring from the child’s perspective which make The Granny Project such an interesting read. In taking on the full burden of their grandmother’s care, the children come to understand how much pressure their parents have been under, yet also develop an even closer bond with the old lady and feel more inclined to ensure she stays at home. There’s not a huge amount of fresh insight into what it’s like to live with Dementia here; Granny’s condition isn’t even given an official name. The emphasis is more on the carers perspective and particularly how children will react to seeing someone they love begin to become confused. 

This is an often times hilarious, sharply written analysis of what it takes to holistically care for a loved one at home. It explores the complexities of family dynamics, what it feels like to be a child carer, (including the practical sacrifices and lifestyle changes Ivan is forced to make) and also how children process grief and loss. At times it feels a little dated, the cultural references are firmly rooted in the eighties and some of the attitudes feel a little out of whack with contemporary thinking but it’s still well worth reading today. 

The Granny Project was published by Methuen Children’s Books in 1983 

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“The Summer of Lily and Esme” by John Quinn

It’s the summer between Primary and Secondary School and everything’s changing for Alan. His parents have moved the family out of Dublin and bought an old house in a village in the country. At first Alan thinks he’ll be isolated and lonely with no one around to play with. However, within days of the move he’s stumbled upon the two old ladies who live in the cottage next door. Lily and Esme are twins. Although they’re extremely elderly now, they still believe themselves to be little girls and instantly mistake Alan for a young boy they used to play with, who died tragically on the day of their tenth birthday party. With the help of his new friend Lisa and a bunch of friendly locals, Alan works hard to piece together the mystery of what happened, the summer Albert died. There is talk of ghosts, a lot of laughter and a clandestine adventure to the local circus. Thanks to Alan’s efforts, Lily and Esme have the best summer of their lives and Alan himself learns a lot about friendship and the importance of community.

This is a gorgeous novel aimed at upper Primary school aged children. It never mentions the word Dementia though it’s clear from the outset that both the twins are living with the condition. They’re confused and frequently forgetful. They muddle their memories up with the present and are cared for by a stern live-in carer whom they’ve nicknamed Badger. Quinn does a fantastic job of capturing what their condition seems like to a young boy and, through Alan’s responses, painting a really compelling picture of what it looks like to befriend and accept a person living with Dementia and actually benefit from this relationship. A few of the references are a little dated. The Summer of Lily and Esme was clearly written in a pre-Internet age and yet this doesn’t stop it from being utterly charming and compelling. It’s a treat to read such a rich Dementia narrative set right here in Ireland. This is a very special book.

The Summer of Lily and Esme was published by Poolbeg Press in 1991 

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“Memory” by Margaret Mahy

I’m going to be really honest. It took me longer than usual to get into Carnegie Medal winning writer, Margaret Mahy’s Memory. The novel opens with a quite lengthy, and somewhat confusing section which introduces us to the main protagonist, Jonny Dart. He’s drunk and angry and trying to get to the bottom of an incident which happened many years previously. He wants to track down a girl named Bonnie. It took me quite a few chapters to work out why and, even then, I wasn’t really interested in the backstory about his sister’s tragic and untimely death. Memory really began for me, the moment Jonny stumbled across an elderly lady, pushing a shopping trolley across a car park in the middle of the night.

In some ways Sophie, is the archetypal crazy old lady I frequently encounter in novels. She has Dementia. She lives alone. She dresses oddly and doesn’t eat properly and has let her house fall into disrepair. She owns many, many cats. She is, like every other crazy old lady, firmly stuck in the past. What saves Sophie from becoming a stereotype is the way Mahy gives her quirks and foibles peculiar to her. There’s also a level of gritty honesty here which I’ve rarely encountered in those YA books which tackle the subject of Dementia. Through a series of slightly contrived events, Jonny moves in with Sophie and becomes -if only temporarily- her live-in carer. Mahy gives the reader an unflinching picture of what it means for a young man in his early twenties to care for an elderly stranger, especially one of the opposite sex.

She describes Jonny’s concern over the state of Sophie’s house with a wonderfully accurate matter-of-fact tone. Similarly, Jonny despairs of her eating habits but when she gets distressed offers her a packet of biscuits and tells her to comfort eat the lot. There’s also no squeamishness when it comes to describing the more personal aspects of Sophie’s care such as dealing with her incontinence and helping her to bath. So many of these ‘young person befriends a quirky senior’ narratives shy away from tackling the physical aspect of caring. I’m grateful that Mahy included these vignettes and also offers her readers a kind of manual for how two people can negotiate around each other’s vulnerabilities to find a means of caring for each other. There’s a lot of dignity at work in this book. 

By the time I’d finished Memory, I was captivated by the relationship between Sophie and Jonny Dart. I loved their humour and their warmth. I loved the way the story is grounded in the New Zealand where Mahy grew up. I could’ve done without the flashback episodes or the snippets of lyrics from pop songs which made the book feel a little dated in places when actually the central relationship reads as incredibly contemporary and really fresh.

Memory was published by Harper Collins in 2002 

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“Tamar” by Mal Peet

Guardian Prize- winning author, Mal Peet won the Carnegie Medal for Tamar and it’s pretty easy to see why. His YA novel is an epic read, spanning fifty years of history and three generations of a complicated family. It’s a big book but I read it in less than twenty four hours because I simply couldn’t put it down. If you like historical sagas with plenty of action, you’ll absolutely love this book. It focuses on Tamar, a young fifteen year old woman who, after her grandfather’s suicide, attempts to unravel his complex past. Peet then uses flashbacks to 1944 to reveal Tamar’s grandfather’s side of the story and introduce the people and events which shaped his life. 

It transpires that Tamar’s grandfather was an undercover agent for the allies, operating in the Dutch resistance during the latter part of World War 2. As Tamar discovers more and more about his past, she begins to suspect that he wasn’t the man he purported to be. In normal circumstances she might have asked questions of her grandmother, the women who’d escaped from the Netherlands with her grandfather in 1945. The two of them had spent the remainder of their lives in England, yet never quite managed to shake off the past. However, Tamar’s grandmother has developed Dementia and can’t offer her granddaughter any help in unravelling the fifty year old mystery of who her grandfather really was.

I’ll be very honest. There are only a few chapters of Tamar which deal explicitly with the grandmother’s Dementia. It’s mostly a kind of historical fiction thriller with a tiny bit of romance thrown in for good measure. It’s a brilliant story, exceptionally well-written and I’m grateful that the inclusion of a Dementia narrative made me pick it up and read it through. The sections which focus on Dementia might be slim but they’re very well-crafted and capture a couple of aspects of the illness I haven’t seen explored in many novels so far. Marijke (the grandmother), is a Dutch speaker who learns English late in life, “her English had never been perfect like Grandad’s. She’d often search for the word for something, clicking her fingers impatiently, then give up and use the Dutch.” As her Dementia develops Marijke loses her English and defaults back to her native Dutch. No one in the care home she lives in understands her. They do, “what English people do when they speak to foreigners: talk slowly and loudly in English, and mime.” 

I’ve not seen this concept of defaulting to a primary language included in any Dementia narrative I’ve read so far, though I’ve witnessed it a few times in community arts practice when working with people living with Dementia who’d spoken Irish or another language before they learnt English. I also noted with interest Marijke’s attempts to hide food from her carers; a throwback to her youth, when she’d hidden food from the Nazi’s who’s overran their neighbourhood. This is another practice I’ve witnessed amidst people living with Dementia.

Peet’s description of Marijke’s Dementia is uncannily accurate and well-observed. The loving and gentle descriptions of how Tamar’s grandfather enters into his wife’s confusion as a means of reassuring her, are worth the read alone. This is why I’m including Tamar in my collection of Dementia narratives. There are only a few chapters featuring the older version of Marijke but they’re substantial enough to make this novel an essential inclusion, not to mention, a fantastic read.

Tamar was published by Walker Books in 2005 

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“Toffee” by Sarah Crossan

In this stunning verse novel from Carnegie Medal winning YA author Sarah Crossan we meet Alison, a young woman on the run from a difficult situation at home. She ends up in a bleak seaside town. Alone, and with nowhere else to sleep, she hides out in the shed of an abandoned house. It soon transpires the house isn’t empty. An elderly woman named Marla lives there. Dementia has left Marla confused and mistaking Alison for an old friend called Toffee. She invites the young woman to move in with her. At first Alison is quite blatantly taking advantage of Marla but soon she begins to care for her. What transpires is a strange but intriguing friendship where the women become increasingly dependent on each other for company and companionship. The novel is perhaps, best summed up by the short four sentence description on the back cover.

“I am not who I say I am. Marla isn’t who she thinks she is. I am a girl trying to forget. Marla is a women trying to remember.”

Despite their differences Marla and Alison have much in common. They manage to become a kind of support network for each other as Marla tries to make sense of her past and the fractured network of her memories while Alison attempts to brave the future and the big changes she’s going to have to make.

Essentially this is Alison’s story. It’s told in the first person from her perspective but includes descriptions and analysis of Marla, snippets of her dialogue and even secondary sources like text messages. Through Alison’s eyes we are given a wonderful picture of an older woman, living alone with Dementia who is anxious to maintain her independence and determined to continue being fully herself. Marla is not the usual dottery old lady, depicted in much of Dementia fiction. She is feisty, funny and desperately quirky; as annoying as she is likable. In Marla, Crossan has created a unique and incredibly appealing character. She’s made it ok to find aspects of Dementia truly hilarious.

“I can’t get my feckin’ tights on, Marla shouts

from the bedroom next to mine.

My arse has expanded.”

Perhaps the most unique feature of the novel is its style. Crossan has written the entire story in verse. It reads like a novel, though looks like a poetry collection on the page. All the white space around the words serve as a constant reminder of the fact that because of Dementia there is often as much said, or implied in the silences, as there is when Marla speaks. This sense of erasure and retaining what’s essential about who a person is and was, is mirrored in Alison’s story and eluded to in Crossan’s beautiful words.

“No goodbye is forever

unless you can

erase everything you ever knew about a person

and everything you once felt.”

Toffee is a truly beautiful novel. It’s fractured language and lyrical, mesmerising tone is perfect for exploring the theme of Dementia. As I read, I felt Crossan was trying to pin down something fleeting and elusive with her sentences. She does an amazing job of capturing what it’s like for a teenager to do life with someone who’s living with Dementia. I’d recommend this as an essential read for young adults and actual adults alike.

Toffee was published by Bloomsbury in 2019

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“Hour of the Bees” by Lindsay Eagar

Hour of the Bees is Utah-based YA writer, Lindsay Eagar’s debut novel. It’s a captivating story about a family spending a summer together on the sprawling sheep ranch which has been in their family for generations. The story centres around twelve year old Carol. At first Carol isn’t at all keen to give up her entire summer holidays to spend time with her grandfather, Serge on a sheep ranch in the middle of nowhere. Carol, her half-sister Alta, and little brother Lu are used to their life back in the city, with their friends and all the comforts of home. There’s absolutely nothing to entertain them on the sheep ranch, worse still the whole area’s been subject to a drought for decades and the summer months are unbearably hot. Carol and her family don’t really have a choice in terms of where they spend their summer. Serge is extremely elderly and has grown frail. His advancing dementia means he’s increasingly confused, mixing the past with the present and sometimes even mistaking Carol for his late wife as a girl. Serge is moving to a residential care facility at the end of the summer and the family have only a few months to get the ranch fixed up before it’s put up for sale.

Eagar weaves a beautiful magical realist story through the more familiar story of a family struggling to cope with change in the present and resurfacing hurts from the past. Carol grows close to her grandfather as he tells her a long and enchanting fairy tale about her families origins. She comes to understand that her roots and identity are tightly bound to the ranch and ultimately begins to empathise with Serge’s insistence that the land should stay in the family and not be sold to strangers. It’s a beautifully written story and a really enjoyable read with strong emphasis on the importance of listening to older people and valuing family connections.

However, I really struggled with the dementia narrative in this novel. Serge’s dementia feels like a kind of device used to propel the plot. He’s portrayed as confused and frail when the story requires him to be an object of pity or a bone of contention, grating up against the family’s plans. At other points he’s almost miraculously coherent and portrayed as quite strong and virile for such an elderly man. For example, though he frequently finds communication difficult he’s able to narrate, long and extremely eloquent stories about his past. I understand that the magic realist narrative running through the novel allows for a certain amount of liberty to be taken with how the characters are portrayed but I’d be a little concerned that young people with no experience of dementia who read this novel might not get an accurate idea of what the illness is actually like. Eagar, also weaves in a semi-miraculous happy ending for Serge and Carol which is very different from most people’s end of life experience with a loved one who has dementia. It’s an ongoing struggle when reading and writing fictional dementia narratives. The characters need to be written accurately and ethically and yet are also there to serve the story. For me, the balance isn’t quite right in Hour of the Bees, but it’s still an enjoyable read. 

Hour of the Bees was published by Walker Books in 2016 

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“Unbecoming” by Jenny Downham

Jenny Downham’s Young Adult novel about three generations of women has received rave reviews and I can absolutely see why. Unbecoming is a gripping read from the very first sentence.

“It was like an alien had landed. Really, it was that weird.”

Seventeen year old Katie’s estranged grandma comes crashing into her life in dramatic fashion. Mary has been left alone and in need of care after her partner dies suddenly. Katie knows nothing about the woman who abandoned her mother as a baby and can’t understand why her mum seems so reluctant to welcome this intriguing, imaginative older lady into their home when she’s so obviously in need of help. Katie’s mum has her own reasons to distrust Mary, besides her family is already quite complicated: Katie’s father has moved in with his girlfriend, whilst her younger brother Chris has complex, special needs. Katie herself is having a turbulent summer. Her relationship with her mother comes under strain as she begins to embrace her identity as a lesbian and experiences her first romance.

Mary brings fun, excitement and stories about the past into Katie’s life. She brightens up Katie’s dreary family life as together they work on piecing together the older woman’s memories. But Mary isn’t always easy to live with. Her Dementia means she requires constant care. Sometimes she remembers the past in short, lucid bursts. Sometimes she doesn’t know where she is or how to manage the simplest tasks. 

“Every morning I think I can do things, and by the afternoon it turns out I can’t.”

Mary’s Dementia is at the stage where she understands that something’s gone wrong but doesn’t know how to fix it. She’s prone to wander away from home and sometimes has outbursts. She’s desperate to be reconciled with her daughter and her grandchildren but her scattergun attempts at explaining the past and her own mistakes often lead to more upset. Unbecoming is a novel which questions the very idea of truth. If Mary remembers things one way and her daughter remembers the same incidents differently, who’s to say which version is right and whether the confusion associated with Dementia renders the person remembering less reliable or more inclined to speak the truth without considering the consequence?

“Mary had her version of the time she came to stay and Mum had hers…All the threads bind and twist together. And every time you look it’s different, because stories change in the telling.”

This is an incredibly readable novel. I flew through its almost 450 pages. It explores a whole range of themes -intergenerational relationships, LGBTQ, feminist and mental health issues, alongside Dementia- through the central narrative arc of unpicking the complexities of Mary’s life. The third person narration allows Downham to give us an overview of every character’s perspective and also to dip frequently into the past. The writing is moving and eloquent and the ending, resolved enough to feel satisfactory, yet far from cheesy or forced. There are so many things I enjoyed about this novel but what I loved most is the honest, funny and occasionally irreverent relationship between Katie and her grandma. If anything, Unbecoming is a romance. It’s the story of two women separated by a family rift, finding each other in the nick of time and very quickly falling in love.

Unbecoming was published by David Fickling Books in 2015