I just finally finished reading Walter Cronkite's memoir, the other day. It's probably not most people's first choice in reading materials, but it brought back sweet memories of my mom's father, whom I had a very enjoyable relationship. He was the only grandfather I knew and I was his little princess. So I loved reading the Cronkite book.
I began to read the book by John Grisham (A Painted House), last night. When I first chose this book to read, I just chose it because of other books authored by Grisham (The Pelican Brief, and others), but I am glad I chose this book to read.
A Painted House is a story told from the narrator's point of view: Luke Chandler, who is seven years old. It's a story about the life of his family, growing up as a kid of cotton picking share cropper's who live in Arkansas, caught up in the world of back breaking poverty. This story, although it's a fictional account (novel) turns out to closely parallel the lives of my grandparent's growing up years. My grandmother's parents were cotton picking share cropper's in the south...my grandmother was eldest of thirteen children, whom all grew old enough to help pick cotton on their parent's share cropping tenancy. I see my grandparents lives through the narrator's point of view. I'm only on page 52, but I'm loving this story. <3
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Kätzchen
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