Parenting Without Power Struggles - Susan Stiffelman

Much of this gentle and positive book about "cool, calm and connected" parenting covers ideas I've heard many times before, but I found the way it was presented clear and memorable, especially the image of the parent as "Captain of the ship", exuding quiet authority and giving children the reassuring sense that we are "steady and calm - regardless of their moods or behavior".  I also found the discussion of being "in charge" interesting, especially the reminder that endless debates and negotiations are a sign that the parent is not "firmly rooted in your authority as the Captain of the ship", and that when a parent is desperately resorting to bribes and threats, it is a sign that power ("to make or break your serenity") has passed to the child.  The section on challenging our beliefs about the way that our children should behave, based on the idea that it is the stories we tell ourselves that cause us distress rather than actual events, is also very helpful.  It contains practical suggestions (using Byron Katie's four questions to probe the truth and impacts of our beliefs and even explore their opposites) on how to reassess the meanings we give to our children's behaviour.  The chapter that I picked up most new ideas from was probably that on attachment, based on Gordon Neufeld's "six stages of attachment" (proximity, sameness, belonging/loyalty, significance, love & being known), which I hadn't come across before.  These can be used to generate ideas on how to connect and maintain closeness with our children, such as demonstrating that we take pleasure in their company, focusing on things that we have in common, finding opportunities to show that we are on their side, and letting them know that we perceive them as special and important.  I liked the advice - which I know but often forget in the moment - on the futility of trying to advise or lecture in heated moments ("a child cannot process what you're saying when he's upset"), and the importance of responding to the feelings beneath children's words rather than getting caught up in debating the (often misleading) content of what they are saying.  I was intrigued by the assertion that "one of the greatest gifts we can give our children is to help them find their tears and feel their sadness fully when they're frustrated" - this goes against my usual instincts to try to cheer up a distressed child, but I can see the logic in the idea that fully experiencing the emotion may be the most direct route to accepting and adapting to the situation - as is so powerfully expressed in the movie Inside Out.  The other section of the book which I found most persuasive was the description of the importance of allowing time to hear a child's feelings in a problematic situation before attempting to offer advice or suggestions - Stiffelman describes these stages as "Act I" (asking "what's it like to be you?", and giving the child a chance to feel heard and understood), and "Act II", when the parent can offer their guidance to the (hopefully by now more receptive) child.  The later chapters of the book felt less compelling to me (they were less relevant to my family's situation, and seemed to provide less detailed practical advice), but overall this was a book that I found encouraging and helpful, if not particularly original.

Coming Home - Sue Gee

I found this book very unsettling. It is a family saga about a young couple with high hopes "coming home" to start a new life in England after Indian Independence, and contains plenty of sweet and funny period details, but I found the character of the mother very disturbing: her attempts to create an identity for herself by writing about her experiences are repeatedly unsuccessful, even leading her to a breakdown at one point.  I was also troubled by the description of the various ways that the children suffer because of well-intentioned or thoughtless actions (or in several cases, inaction!) by their parents. Perhaps I overreacted to these themes due to my current situation as a full-time mother who has just moved countries and is wondering to what extent choices we make for them now will have a long-term effect on our children's characters and happiness, but to me this book seemed essentially tragic. I was surprised to learn afterwards that the book is largely autobiographical, and seems to have been intended as a sort of affectionate tribute to her parents. I wonder whether, knowing that she was in part motivated by love and nostalgia, she worked hard to avoid writing something sentimental or saccharine, and perhaps went a little too far the other way.

Instructions for a Heatwave - Maggie O'Farrell

The heatwave of 1976 makes a good backdrop for this novel about three siblings brought together to help their mother search for their missing father.  It's a gripping read, full of well-observed characters and situations, which uses multiple overlapping scenarios to explore the impact of keeping secrets on relationships and families. I particularly liked the 'wild child' Aoife whose rebellion was forced upon her by a personal difficulty she was unable to acknowledge.

Are You Somebody? - Nuala O'Faolain

Although I'd never heard of Nuala O'Faolain before picking this memoir up in the library, the title intrigued me and the reviews were complimentary, so I borrowed it.  I found it utterly enthralling, as her combination of intelligence and naivety as a young woman was very likeable, and her writing seemed very honest and self-aware.  Her clearsighted descriptions of the situation of women in Irish society were especially captivating - and I was particularly struck by the incident she describes where a psychiatrist she visits when depressed admonishes her: "You are going to great trouble," he said, "and flying in the face of the facts of your life, to re-create your mother's life."

The Fifth Child - Doris Lessing

This horror story about a cuckoo in the nest did a good job of portraying the rapid and total unravelling of a 'perfect' family after the birth of an unexpected and unloveable fifth child. I particularly liked the description of the mother's inability to abandon her monstrous child even when it meant defying the rest of the family and sacrificing her chance at resuming a peaceful life with her older children. It covered similar ground to We Need to Talk About Kevin but was written more as a straightforward disaster narrative rather than exploring the nature vs nurture question. I was a little uncomfortable with the explicit labelling of the child (towards the end, by his mother) as a genetic "throwback" - this seemed unconvincing and to me detracted from the very real air of menace that was created when he was simply described without explanation.

All My Puny Sorrows - Miriam Toews

This deeply likeable book about a woman struggling to hold on to her suicidal sister is both a strangely enjoyable read and a powerful reflection on the nature of suffering, the inadequacies of psychiatric care, and the case for euthanasia. I was intrigued by the idea discussed in the book (in the context of Mennonite families whose ancestors had fled from persecution in Russia after the revolution) that "suffering... is something that is passed from one generation to the next, like flexibility or grace or dyslexia", but assumed that it was meant metaphorically. Shortly after reading the book, however, I came across this article on inherited trauma, which suggests a disturbingly literal interpretation. I was horrified to discover on reaching the end that the book was based on true events - I suspect it would have been a much more painful read if I had been aware of that at the start.

A Man Without a Country - Kurt Vonnegut

This "memoir of life in George W Bush's America" is, as you'd expect, quirky, angry, and funny, with the author sharing witty and perceptive opinions on socialism, art, politics, religion, relationships, the environment... His view of modern society is pretty bleak (psychopathic personalities are in charge, "we are all addicts of fossil fuels in a state of denial", and it's too late to do anything about it) but he includes a rather beautiful requiem for life on Earth, and urges us, despite this, to "please notice when you are happy", and reflect, as an elderly relative used to, "if this isn't nice, I don't know what is". The most memorable part for me was a brief section on the decline of extended families ("A husband, a wife and some kids is not a family. It's a terribly vulnerable survival unit.") His analysis that women want "a whole lot of people to talk to [...] about everything" and that most marital arguments can be interpreted as the couple saying to each other, "You are not enough people!" resonated with me during a period where, having just moved abroad, I was expecting my husband to fill the gaps left by my missing friends and listen to everything I wanted to talk about...