Grandma's Heroic World
by Zhao Ting
About This Novel
This book is a collection of warm literary works written by the well-known author Zhao Ting, which tells the daily life of a grandmother in her seventies and a nephew in her twenties. It consists of 32 articles, focusing on the daily life of the young me and my old grandmother across generations. The image of the grandmother is real, unique and lovely. As an old lady who is seriously out of touch with the times, her cognition is old and cannot keep up with the times, but she is learning little by little from this young woman who no longer belongs to her era. Sometimes she makes surprising remarks and makes two avant-garde remarks that make people laugh. Through my relationship with my grandmother and my grandmother's perspective, it was very interesting to see this era and society.
What Readers Think
Rating
Community(0)
Official(3)Scraped 21d ago
Ordinary is great
I have never had the concept of a grandmother in my life, let alone what a grandmother looks like, but after reading this book by Mr. Zhao Ting, I suddenly yearned for my grandmother. Although it is impossible in this life, we must meet it in the next life
grandmother
A series of stories that will make you laugh and cry, touching the softness in your heart
Last year, I took a train for a day and a half to visit my grandmother. I watched the sunrise for the first time at Shenyang Station. I stood under the huge clock at Beijing East Station. On the train, I played songs on my mobile phone and four of our family played cards. The people next to me watched us play Landlords with smiles. The melody was melodious and the years gradually closed together like smoke and clouds in a blink of an eye. I remember looking at the mountains covered with solar panels and watching the sunset through the train window. Finally, we went to a remote and desolate place. The two of us had three children and four grandchildren, but they had stayed there all their lives. She said that she didn't have a single black hair on her head. He said that even a thirty-year-old boy who was seventy and thirty years old couldn't catch up with him when he was climbing mountains. He said that he had carried me when he was a child. Like carrying a chicken, our fate is really not deep. In my memory when I was eighteen years old, I can count the number of times I saw them with one hand. I don't know how many more times I can see them in the rest of their lives. We are separated by fifty years, and also separated by the dusty time after each separation.
Rating
Community(0)
Official(3)Scraped 21d ago
Ordinary is great
I have never had the concept of a grandmother in my life, let alone what a grandmother looks like, but after reading this book by Mr. Zhao Ting, I suddenly yearned for my grandmother. Although it is impossible in this life, we must meet it in the next life
grandmother
A series of stories that will make you laugh and cry, touching the softness in your heart
Last year, I took a train for a day and a half to visit my grandmother. I watched the sunrise for the first time at Shenyang Station. I stood under the huge clock at Beijing East Station. On the train, I played songs on my mobile phone and four of our family played cards. The people next to me watched us play Landlords with smiles. The melody was melodious and the years gradually closed together like smoke and clouds in a blink of an eye. I remember looking at the mountains covered with solar panels and watching the sunset through the train window. Finally, we went to a remote and desolate place. The two of us had three children and four grandchildren, but they had stayed there all their lives. She said that she didn't have a single black hair on her head. He said that even a thirty-year-old boy who was seventy and thirty years old couldn't catch up with him when he was climbing mountains. He said that he had carried me when he was a child. Like carrying a chicken, our fate is really not deep. In my memory when I was eighteen years old, I can count the number of times I saw them with one hand. I don't know how many more times I can see them in the rest of their lives. We are separated by fifty years, and also separated by the dusty time after each separation.
