Good Stuff: A Reminiscence of My Father, Cary Grant

With the birth of his daughter, the sixty-three-year-old Cary Grant— still urbane, athletic, sublimely handsome, always self-effacing—retired from the screen to devote himself to his longed-for child.

In Good Stuff, Jennifer Grant writes of her enchanted but very real life with her father, playing, laughing, dining, and dancing together through the thick and thin of Jennifer’s growing up; the years of his work, his travels, his friendships with “old Hollywood royalty” (the Sinatras, the Pecks, the Poitiers, et al.) and with just plain old royalty (the Rainiers) . . . until Grant’s death at the age of eighty-two.

She writes of the love he showed her, the lessons he taught her, of his childhood as well as her own. Here are letters, notes, cards, and drawings from father to daughter and from her to him . . . photographstaken at home and on their many adventures . . . and bits of conversation between them (Cary Grant kept a tape recorder going for most of their time together).

Good Stuff captures the magic of a father’s devotion (and goofballness) and reveals a daughter’s special odyssey of loving, and being loved, by a dad who was Cary Grant.