Nanaville

Nanaville Plot Summary

Introduction

The journey into grandparenthood begins with a text message, a phone call, or perhaps the sound of a newborn's cry. For Anna Quindlen, it started with a simple notification that her son's wife had gone into labor. In that moment, as with countless grandparents before her, the world tilted on its axis. Something profound was changing in her life - not just the addition of a new family member, but the emergence of an entirely new identity for herself: Nana. Grandparenthood represents one of life's most significant transitions, yet it comes with few clear guidelines. It requires learning how to love without the burden of primary responsibility, how to support without overstepping, and how to find a meaningful place in a family dynamic where you are no longer the central character. Through Quindlen's thoughtful observations and heartfelt stories, we discover the unique joys of this relationship - the small hand that takes yours, the wonder of seeing the world anew through a child's eyes, and the profound satisfaction of loving someone deeply without the weight of parental anxiety. This is a journey into what the author calls "Nanaville," a state of mind where priorities shift, perspectives broaden, and the heart expands in ways previously unimagined.

Chapter 1: The New Identity: Becoming Nana

The transformation from parent to grandparent happens in an instant, yet understanding what this new role truly means unfolds gradually. When Quindlen's grandson Arthur arrived, she immediately felt the pull to do something, to take charge as she had done as a mother. But grandparenthood requires a different approach. "Where I once commanded, now I need to ask permission. Where I once led, I have to learn to follow," she reflects, capturing the essential shift in authority that comes with this new territory. This recalibration of identity proves challenging for many new grandparents, particularly those who spent decades as the primary decision-makers for their children. The temptation to step in with opinions, suggestions, and well-intentioned advice can be overwhelming. Quindlen confesses to her own missteps, including offering unsolicited input about her grandson's preschool arrangements, which prompted a necessary pushback from her son. From this experience came one of her most valuable lessons, delivered by a wise friend who simply asked: "Did they ask you?" Those four words became a guiding principle in her grandparenting journey. The physical manifestations of grandparenthood emerge quickly as well. Quindlen describes how her wardrobe considerations changed ("those are bad nana earrings, a clear invitation to a tug") and how her home gradually transformed to accommodate a child's presence. The high chairs return, the breakables move to higher shelves, and baby gates reappear in doorways. Yet these changes feel different this time around – less burdensome, more welcome. The emotional landscape shifts too. While parenthood often comes with anxiety about doing everything right, grandparenthood offers a second chance to enjoy a child's development without the same pressure. "The great thing for me about being a grandmother is that no one is grading me," Quindlen writes. This freedom allows for a different kind of connection, one based more on joy and presence than on responsibility for outcomes. Perhaps most significantly, becoming a grandparent places one within a larger continuum of family history. Holding her grandson, Quindlen found herself contemplating not just her own mortality but her place in the ongoing story of her family. "Every baby arrives trailing endless ribbons of DNA, a microcosm of history, nationality, ethnicity, family," she observes. In this way, grandparenthood becomes a bridge between past and future, a role that brings perspective to one's own life while promising a form of continuity beyond it.

Chapter 2: Second Place, First Love: Understanding Grandparent Boundaries

Learning to occupy second place in a child's life represents perhaps the most fundamental adjustment for new grandparents. Quindlen captures this reality with gentle humor when she describes her grandson repeatedly saying "Nana" and initially thinking he was calling for her, only to realize he actually wanted a banana. This moment crystallizes an essential truth: "We grandparents are secondary characters, supporting actors. We are not the leads." Understanding and accepting this supporting role becomes the foundation for healthy grandparent-parent relationships. Boundaries in grandparenting are rarely explicit, which makes them all the more important to recognize. Quindlen observes that many conflicts arise when grandparents attempt to position themselves as the "fun ones" who indulge where parents must enforce rules. This approach might feel satisfying in the moment but undermines parental authority. Similarly, creating a "conspiracy" with grandchildren by encouraging them to keep secrets from their parents erodes trust. "For the sake of amity," Quindlen writes, "I'm more invested in fitting into our grandson's routine than in busting him out of it." The grandparent-parent relationship requires particular care when it involves a daughter-in-law or son-in-law. Quindlen acknowledges the truth many grandparents know but few discuss openly: how much time you spend with grandchildren often depends on how well you get along with their parents, especially the parent who isn't your child. She feels fortunate that her daughter-in-law welcomed her involvement from the beginning, inviting her to hold the baby in the hospital and including her in Arthur's early days. "It made all the difference," she notes. Modern parenting differs significantly from previous generations, which can create tension if grandparents resist change. Quindlen advises embracing the improvements in childcare practices rather than clinging to "the way we did it." From car seats engineered by NASA to advanced baby monitors, many innovations genuinely enhance children's safety and wellbeing. When differences in philosophy arise, Quindlen suggests asking yourself a critical question: "Is this about the child's needs or about my ego?" The reward for respecting these boundaries is a deeply meaningful relationship with both grandchildren and their parents. By positioning herself as a support rather than a competitor, Quindlen found she was called upon regularly to help with childcare, included in family decisions, and trusted with her grandson's care. "It's a complicated relationship," she acknowledges, "being a good grandparent, because it hinges on a series of other relationships." The art of grandparenting lies not in asserting authority but in cultivating trust.

Chapter 3: Cross-Cultural Connection: Learning Mandarin for Arthur

When Anna Quindlen learned that her grandson would be bilingual - speaking both English and Mandarin Chinese - she made an extraordinary decision. Despite considering herself "bad at foreign languages" and finding Chinese particularly challenging, she began taking Mandarin lessons. "The first sentence we learned was 'I love you,'" she writes. "Wo ai ni. Wo ai ni, sunzi. I love you, grandson." This choice represented something profound: a commitment to enter her grandson's world rather than expecting him to fully accommodate to hers. The language lessons were not easy. Quindlen describes the physical strain of forming unfamiliar sounds, the frustration of struggling with tones, and how her "head literally hurt" when doing homework. Her teacher was touched by this unusual situation - she had taught many Chinese-American children who needed to communicate with their grandparents, but never grandparents learning to communicate with their grandchild. The contrast highlights how Quindlen's efforts went beyond conventional expectations, demonstrating a willingness to stretch beyond her comfort zone for the sake of connection. This linguistic journey paralleled her grandson's own experience of language acquisition. As Arthur struggled with his first words and sentences, Quindlen found herself more attuned to the challenges of communication. She observed how language serves not just as a tool for exchanging information but as a way of organizing the world. "It was the linguistic equivalent of getting down on the floor to play with him at his own level," she explains, showing how this shared struggle created empathy and understanding between them. The effort yielded small but meaningful victories. One day Arthur said something to her in Chinese that she actually understood - he wanted milk. "Niunai!" she recalls triumphantly. "It was in one of our earliest lessons... And milk he was given." This moment of cross-cultural connection symbolized something larger: how grandchildren can expand our worlds in unexpected ways, pushing us beyond familiar boundaries and comfortable habits. "I wonder how many times that will happen with my grandchildren in the years ahead," she reflects. "Music, movies, books, clothing, technology. I will try to deal." This commitment to crossing cultural divides speaks to a deeper reality of modern grandparenthood. In an increasingly diverse society, many grandparents find themselves navigating cultural differences that would have been unimaginable in previous generations. Quindlen embraces this diversity as enriching rather than threatening, seeing Arthur's multicultural heritage as a strength. By learning even basic Mandarin, she signaled her respect for his Chinese heritage and her desire to be fully present in all aspects of his life, not just those that felt familiar to her.

Chapter 4: Different Generations, Different Approaches: Modern Grandparenting

The landscape of grandparenting has transformed dramatically across generations. Quindlen contrasts her own approach with that of her grandparents, who maintained a formal distance from their grandchildren. "My grandparents looked like old people," she recalls. "It would never have occurred to any of them to get down on the floor with us, and, not to be mean, but I'm not sure they could have gotten back up again if they had." Today's grandparents are often more active participants in their grandchildren's lives - getting down on the floor to play, joining in physical activities, and adopting a more casual, engaged style of interaction. Demographic shifts have reshaped grandparenthood as well. When Quindlen was young, her paternal grandparents had thirty-two grandchildren - an unimaginable number by today's standards. Families have grown smaller, making each grandchild more precious and allowing for more individualized attention. Simultaneously, longer lifespans mean grandparents and grandchildren often have more years together. "The average age of a grandmother at the moment is around fifty," Quindlen notes, contradicting the stereotype of grandparents as elderly. Today's grandparents might be running marathons, pursuing careers, or starting new ventures while actively participating in their grandchildren's lives. Technology has revolutionized grandparenting, particularly for those who live at a distance. Quindlen describes the joy of watching Arthur on a video monitor from across the country or seeing him talk with his Chinese grandparents via WeChat. These digital connections would have been impossible for previous generations. Yet amid these changes, certain fundamental aspects remain constant: grandchildren still want someone to play games with them, tell them stories, and treat them as special. The particulars evolve, but the essential connection endures. Parenting styles have evolved dramatically as well, influenced by research, online resources, and changing social norms. Quindlen observes the shift from the casual approach of her parents' generation ("Go outside and play") to today's more structured and information-driven parenting. Rather than criticizing these changes, she advises grandparents to adapt: "Being a good grandparent requires you to bring the past to the table and then let go of it in the face of change." This flexibility allows for harmony between generations and acknowledges that many modern practices represent genuine improvements. Perhaps most significantly, today's grandparents often find themselves navigating multiple roles simultaneously. Many are still working, caring for aging parents, or pursuing active lives beyond family. "The nono's," as Quindlen calls them, are women who feel ambivalent about grandmotherhood, concerned about being pulled back into demanding childcare duties after finally achieving independence. While Quindlen embraces her role as "Nana," she acknowledges these diverse perspectives, recognizing that there is no single right way to be a grandparent in today's complex world.

Chapter 5: Mother-in-Law to Grandmother: Building Trust with Parents

The relationship between a mother-in-law and her child's spouse often sets the stage for grandparenting success. Quindlen acknowledges this reality with characteristic frankness: "When your son becomes a father, so much that follows depends on how your daughter-in-law feels about you." She compares various types of daughters-in-law she has observed, from those who gradually distance their husbands from their families to those who genuinely welcome in-laws as extended family. Quindlen counts herself fortunate that her son married someone who falls into the latter category. Building trust begins with respecting the parents' authority. Quindlen recalls the moment in the hospital when she first saw her grandson and instinctively reached for him, then stopped herself to ask her daughter-in-law's permission. "Can I pick him up?" she asked, testing the waters. "Of course," came the matter-of-fact reply, signaling that Quindlen was welcome in this new family constellation. This small exchange established a pattern of mutual respect that would prove invaluable in the years to come. Childcare approaches often become flash points between generations. When Quindlen set up a nursery for Arthur's visits, she proudly decorated it with bumpers, quilts, stuffed animals, and other items that had been standard in her day. All were promptly removed due to current safety guidelines recommending bare cribs to prevent SIDS. Rather than resisting this change, she adapted: "I realized that the only thing in the crib that mattered at all was the baby." This flexibility on non-essential matters helped build credibility for the occasions when her experience might genuinely prove valuable. The delicate balance of availability without interference requires constant calibration. Quindlen describes how she offers help without imposing it, makes herself available without expecting to be called upon, and respects the parents' schedules and routines. When her grandson had a difficult time sleeping, she sympathized with the parents' exhaustion but didn't undermine their approach to sleep training. This careful positioning allows her to be seen as a resource rather than a burden or critic. Perhaps most importantly, Quindlen recognizes that her relationship with her grandson's parents will evolve over time. She reflects on how her relationship with her own in-laws changed through various life stages and acknowledges that grandparenthood is a long game. "Eventually grandchildren make their own decisions about who to cleave to," she notes, suggesting that the groundwork laid in early years creates the foundation for meaningful relationships as grandchildren grow older. By fostering trust with parents now, she invests in future connections that will transcend the current dynamics.

Chapter 6: A Multicultural Legacy: Grandchildren in a Changing World

Arthur's multicultural heritage - half Chinese, half Caucasian - represents a profound shift from previous generations in Quindlen's family. She reflects on how her grandparents would have found this unimaginable, coming from an era when "a mixed marriage was between a Catholic and a Lutheran." This evolution mirrors broader demographic changes in America, where one in seven babies born in Arthur's birth year was multiracial or multiethnic - triple the number from when his father was born. This diversity manifests in both subtle and dramatic ways. Quindlen describes the "Mongolian blue spot," a birthmark common in Asian babies that the pediatrician pointed out after Arthur's birth. She notices how people respond differently to seeing her, a Caucasian grandmother, with her Asian-appearing grandson. Twice when carrying Arthur in a baby sling, strangers asked her, "Where did you get him?" - a question that reveals persistent assumptions about what constitutes a "normal" family. These experiences provide Quindlen with a small window into the complexities her grandson may navigate as he grows up. Rather than viewing these differences as challenges, Quindlen celebrates the richness they bring. She observes how Arthur sometimes resembles his Caucasian father, sometimes his Chinese mother, and sometimes is "both, and neither. He is his own self." This individuality represents freedom from expectations, allowing Arthur to forge his own identity beyond either cultural tradition. Quindlen finds this liberating: "Being a grandparent is the opportunity to put much of that aside and simply sit and wait and see." The blending of cultures extends beyond physical appearance to daily life. Arthur learns both English and Mandarin, eats both American and Chinese foods, and celebrates traditions from both sides of his family. Quindlen embraces these cultural exchanges, whether learning Chinese words or watching Arthur talk with his maternal grandparents via video chat from Hong Kong. This multicultural experience isn't limited to her grandson - it has expanded her own horizons as well, introducing her to new perspectives and experiences she wouldn't otherwise have encountered. Looking toward the future, Quindlen believes her grandchildren will grow up in "a fairer and, in some ways, more interesting world" than she did. She anticipates passing down family stories that connect Arthur to his heritage while preparing him for a more diverse and interconnected society than previous generations knew. In this way, grandparenting becomes not just about preserving the past but about building bridges to a different future - one that transcends the limitations and prejudices of earlier times.

Chapter 7: The Expanding Heart: Preparing for a Second Grandchild

The announcement of a second grandchild brings fresh joy but also wisdom born of experience. When Quindlen learns that her son and daughter-in-law are expecting again, she recognizes subtle signs - declining wine at dinner, passing on morning coffee, looking "undeniably green" in the car. The news elicits tears of happiness from Arthur's aunt, while Quindlen contemplates how this new addition will transform their family dynamics once more. "So it begins again," she reflects, acknowledging both the continuity and the novelty of welcoming another child into the fold. Having been through parenthood three times herself, Quindlen understands what her son and daughter-in-law don't yet fully grasp: that having a second child is exponentially more complex than having the first. "It turns out your heart is a balloon: it expands effortlessly. Your hands, not so much," she observes with characteristic insight. "It ought to be that two is one plus one, but two children is actually one plus one plus a hundred, or a thousand, or something, depending on the day." This wisdom doesn't need to be shared explicitly - it will be discovered in due time. The impending arrival of a girl adds another dimension to the family constellation. Quindlen learns a new Chinese term - "sunnu" for granddaughter, as opposed to "sunzi" for grandson. Her son expresses concern about raising a daughter when he only knows firsthand what it's like to be a boy becoming a man. Quindlen reassures herself that he'll be fine, noting his comfort with strong women throughout his life and the female resources around him, including his wife, his mother, and his sister. As a grandmother the second time around, Quindlen feels more confident in her role. "I am different now, because I know what I am and what I am not," she writes. She no longer needs to set up an elaborate nursery with all the trimmings, understanding that simplicity serves both safety and sanity. She's learned when to offer help and when to step back, how to support without overstepping. These lessons, hard-won with Arthur, will serve her well with his sister. Quindlen also recognizes her expanded importance in a growing family. She cites anthropological research showing that grandmothers become increasingly vital as families add more children, helping to provide resources and care that allow the family to thrive. "Nana may be called on to wrangle one while the other has alone time with the parents, or to wrangle two so the parents have alone time with one another," she anticipates. Rather than feeling burdened by these responsibilities, she embraces them as confirmation of her essential place in the family system - not central, but increasingly necessary.

Summary

The journey through "Nanaville" reveals a profound truth: grandparenthood offers a unique opportunity to love without the burden of primary responsibility. As Anna Quindlen navigates this territory with humor and insight, she discovers that the essence of being a good grandparent lies not in authority but in adaptation, not in leading but in supporting, not in judgment but in joy. The two commandments she ultimately distills are elegantly simple: "Love the grandchildren, and hold your tongue." From this experience emerges wisdom that extends beyond family relationships. Quindlen's evolution from accomplished professional and hands-on mother to supportive grandmother illustrates how adapting to new roles with grace can enrich our later years. Rather than clinging to past identities or mourning diminished authority, she finds unexpected freedom in stepping back, observing more, and controlling less. This perspective offers a template not just for grandparenting but for navigating life's transitions with dignity and purpose. As our societies grow increasingly diverse and family structures continue to evolve, Quindlen's approach of curious engagement, respectful boundaries, and unconditional love provides a valuable blueprint for creating meaningful connections across generations.

About Author

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Anna Quindlen

Anna Marie Quindlen is an American author, journalist, and opinion columnist.Her New York Times column, Public and Private, won the Pulitzer Prize for Commentary in 1992. She began her journalism career in 1974 as a reporter for the New York Post. Between 1977 and 1994 she held several posts at The New York Times. Her semi-autobiographical novel One True Thing (1994) served as the basis for the 1998 film starring Meryl Streep and Renée Zellweger.

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