This memoir focuses on Linda Grant's mother's decline into dementia; it also covers her complicated relationship with her mother, and the generations represented by her mother - within the Grant family, of women coming of age in the 1940s, and of second-generation Jewish immigrants to the UK.

These are tied together by a common thread: the importance of memory in identity. One of the roots of the guilt within Grant's relationship with her ageing mother is the fact that when she was young, she scoffed at the old family stories - who cared about that when you could be skipping school to go and watch the Beatles playing at the Cavern? Now, when she wants to know more, there is no-one left to fill in the gaps in the story. (Grant of course is also a representative of her generation, "the first one to think they would be young for ever".)

This probably makes it sound a very miserable book. It is certainly extremely sad in places: Grant is unflinchingly honest, both about what the dementia does to her mother, and about her own sense of guilt as a daughter. It was particularly affecting for me because I could recognise elements of my own relationship with my mother. But the quality of the writing, the clarity of thought behind it, and the widening out of the story beyond her mother's decline, all lift it above the merely depressing and make it a very worthwhile read. Highly recommended. ( )

This book gives a really good insight into how dementia/Alzheimer's can affect our lives ( )