Monday, November 30, 2009
La Cucina by Lily Prior
A member of the now-defunct Northfield Square Book Club which I started near Chicago several years ago recommended Lu Cucina, a delightful novel, to me. It's food writing with an erotic twist. It's a far cry from Julia Child or even "food goddess" Nigella Lawson. Nor is it great literature by any means. Still, I loved it and read it quickly. It's not the type of book to go to for recipes much less significant thoughts on food. But if you're in the mood for some food writing with a hint of an R rating, consider this novel set in Sicily where the romance and the food get mighty steamy.
The Carrot Seed by Ruth Krauss
Ruth Krauss' The Carrot Seed is a tiny book that speaks volumes about faith, hope and persistence. It is among the many stories my husband and I have read to our little girl. It's supposedly a classic, though I had not previously heard of it. Read it to your children if they're very young, or let them read it to you. Even we adults can learn from and enjoy the simplest of reading pleasures.
Hello, I Must Be Going by Christie Hodgen
Hello, I Must Be Going is Arkansas author Christie Hodgen's first novel. And it's a winner.
Hodgen is young but shows amazingly perceptive insight into the 60s, which play a significant role in the story. More importantly, she shows much insight into death -- or rather the ways survivors deal with it, some worse than others.
The book is an easy read, but not an insignificant one. In fact, the father in Hodgen's novel reminds me a bit of the namesake character in Alice McDermott's Charming Billy. Both are good people who lack common sense. You know the kind: They love their family, but their actions say otherwise. They spend their money on booze, the lottery, clothes or, well, you name it -- everything but their family except for those times when they over-spend on family to compensate for past failures.
I shall definitely check out Hodgen's next book. She tells me she's intrigued by the subject of death and grief. Intrigued or not, those are certainly universal themes.
(edit)
Hodgen is young but shows amazingly perceptive insight into the 60s, which play a significant role in the story. More importantly, she shows much insight into death -- or rather the ways survivors deal with it, some worse than others.
The book is an easy read, but not an insignificant one. In fact, the father in Hodgen's novel reminds me a bit of the namesake character in Alice McDermott's Charming Billy. Both are good people who lack common sense. You know the kind: They love their family, but their actions say otherwise. They spend their money on booze, the lottery, clothes or, well, you name it -- everything but their family except for those times when they over-spend on family to compensate for past failures.
I shall definitely check out Hodgen's next book. She tells me she's intrigued by the subject of death and grief. Intrigued or not, those are certainly universal themes.
(edit)
The Outside World by Tovah Mirvis
I originally read Tovah Mirvis' The Outside World for a review I was to do for Hadassah Magazine. Long story short, I didn't do the review, but I still read the book and loved it. I particularly enjoyed learning about the Orthodox Jewish culture in the South -- i.e, Memphis and, believe it or not, the Kroger connection. Yes, Kroger. An interesting, informative read that also touches on the inner conflicts the central character, a young woman, faces.
The book offers both a good story and an introductory education for non-Jewish people to learn more about that religion's varied beliefs and cultures.
Mirvis is also the author of The Ladies Auxiliary.
The book offers both a good story and an introductory education for non-Jewish people to learn more about that religion's varied beliefs and cultures.
Mirvis is also the author of The Ladies Auxiliary.
The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion
Sometimes we don't know why or how we cope with life and death; we just do. We think things can't get worse; they can; they do. Still, Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking, a memoir of the year in which both her husband and daughter died, is not a depressing read. Nor is it an inspirational one or a trendy self-help book. Rather, it's a book in which we see that even the rich and famous experience life and grief much the same as the rest of us. I surprisingly found the book to be a quick, easy read. There was no real plot, just a superbly creative woman's struggle to deal with overwhelming loss in not necessarily creative ways but in the only ways she could at the time. She doesn't cry. She doesn't hold her head high. She struggles. Like the rest of us, Didion learns that one way to cope with death -- and sometimes the worst of life -- is simplly not to deal with it. I recommend this book to anyone, but especially to those going through tough times. And who hasn't?
Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life by Barbara Kingsolver
Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life is a wonderful account of her family's efforts to live off local food for one year. The book is both a story of that endeavor and a bit of Kingsolver's always well-researched reporting, this time aided by her husband and college-age daughter.
This work of creative nonfiction gave me a greater appreciation for the need to eat locally grown and raised food whenever possible -- or at least much more than I do now. Kingsolver isn't overly preachy and is reasonable in her expectations of herself and others. She does not deprive her children, for example, of boxed mac 'n' cheese or herself of coffee, but she resists far more foods -- bananas despite a guest's temptation and imported asparagus which she grows in her own back yard.
The book made me want to get busy ordering seeds and other produce to grow in my own yard. It also prompted me to get out an old yet very UN-worn copy of Deborah Madison's cookbook, Local Flavors, as Kingsolver's book references Madison's work quite often. Other authors referenced include Wendell Berry and, of course, culinary great Alice Waters whom I was privileged to talk with in 2002 at where else but a farmers' market. (Try the rhubard compote recipe in Waters' tome on fruits.)
The best writing in Kingsolver's book, in my view, is not by Barbara Kingsolver but by daughter Camille Kingsolver. I do not know if Camille aspires to do more writing, but she writes in a clear, interesting and readable way.
This self-experiment of sorts -- living almost exclusively on local food -- was a superb idea for a book. It was also interesting to get to know Barbara Kingsolver's family -- her husband and two daughters, especially 9-year-old egg merchant Lily. Read the book to see what I mean by "egg merchant."
This book comes with a few recipes and is a keeper.
This work of creative nonfiction gave me a greater appreciation for the need to eat locally grown and raised food whenever possible -- or at least much more than I do now. Kingsolver isn't overly preachy and is reasonable in her expectations of herself and others. She does not deprive her children, for example, of boxed mac 'n' cheese or herself of coffee, but she resists far more foods -- bananas despite a guest's temptation and imported asparagus which she grows in her own back yard.
The book made me want to get busy ordering seeds and other produce to grow in my own yard. It also prompted me to get out an old yet very UN-worn copy of Deborah Madison's cookbook, Local Flavors, as Kingsolver's book references Madison's work quite often. Other authors referenced include Wendell Berry and, of course, culinary great Alice Waters whom I was privileged to talk with in 2002 at where else but a farmers' market. (Try the rhubard compote recipe in Waters' tome on fruits.)
The best writing in Kingsolver's book, in my view, is not by Barbara Kingsolver but by daughter Camille Kingsolver. I do not know if Camille aspires to do more writing, but she writes in a clear, interesting and readable way.
This self-experiment of sorts -- living almost exclusively on local food -- was a superb idea for a book. It was also interesting to get to know Barbara Kingsolver's family -- her husband and two daughters, especially 9-year-old egg merchant Lily. Read the book to see what I mean by "egg merchant."
This book comes with a few recipes and is a keeper.
A Country Year by Sue Hubbell
I enjoyed A County Year, a collection of well-done essays, enough to read this book again someday. Sue Hubbell's writing is as real as the creatures and the plants she loves. I admired Hubbell's love and knowledge of nature. I admired her ability to point out others' lack of appreciation of nature's creatures, without chastising them or speaking ill of them. I admired her independence and the way she spoke of her former husband. There seemed to be some pain still there, but it was not a suffering she dwelled on or even spoke of, beyond comments such as having to learn to use a wrench he left behind. In some ways, I wonder if a man has the same appreciation for those passages -- or even a woman who's never had to fend for herself alone. Hubbell lived what she wrote in every sense. If you are a fan of Barbara Kingsolver's creative nonfiction, you will likely enjoy this book.
The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein
Shel Silverstein's The Giving Tree has been parodied, debated and, best of all, read more than a few times. It is a treasure of a little book. And while it is a children's story, it likely speaks far more to adults than youngsters, many of whom fortunately haven't lived long enough to experience great loss.
I first read this short book, originally published in 1964, to my daughter when she was about 7 years old. I wept; she did not. The book has evoked some controversy, but in my view, it's G-rated unless you intend to get philosophical with your 6-year-old and live to regret it.
No, the story doesn't have a fairy-tale ending. Rather, it reflects the sadness that accompanies life. We love people; we lose them. We love pets; we lose them. We love our gardens, our trees. And sadly, we sometimes use all of these people and things before we lose them. Often, we do so unwittingly; sometimes, we know what we're doing, whether we are taking advantage of someone's kindness or wasting Earth's precious resources.
Yes, children can and should enjoy fairy tales. But they also can enjoy more realistic books like this one -- a story told with the simple, yet wonderfully creative language and pictures of Shel Silverstein.
This book is a keeper. Read it when you're a child; read it when you're 15. And read it again when you're 40, 50 or 60.
I first read this short book, originally published in 1964, to my daughter when she was about 7 years old. I wept; she did not. The book has evoked some controversy, but in my view, it's G-rated unless you intend to get philosophical with your 6-year-old and live to regret it.
No, the story doesn't have a fairy-tale ending. Rather, it reflects the sadness that accompanies life. We love people; we lose them. We love pets; we lose them. We love our gardens, our trees. And sadly, we sometimes use all of these people and things before we lose them. Often, we do so unwittingly; sometimes, we know what we're doing, whether we are taking advantage of someone's kindness or wasting Earth's precious resources.
Yes, children can and should enjoy fairy tales. But they also can enjoy more realistic books like this one -- a story told with the simple, yet wonderfully creative language and pictures of Shel Silverstein.
This book is a keeper. Read it when you're a child; read it when you're 15. And read it again when you're 40, 50 or 60.
The Help by Kathryn Stockett
The Help is one of those books with a jacket so lovely it could adorn a coffee table and, more importantly, a story so true to life it can make readers laugh, cry and curse. Kathryn Stockett effectively weaves three narrators -- a husband-fearing black maid who speaks her mind at a time and place when that just wasn't done -- Jackson, Miss., in the early 1960s; a God-fearing black maid who dares to take a chance and tell her story; a young white woman who listens to them and others and puts their stories on paper in a book that makes some of Jackson's "finest" look, well, like anything but the finest.
Some of the maids' recollections are sad and bitter. Others are happy, even loving. Some, especially Minnie's "unmentionable" story that finally gets more than a mention, will make you laugh our loud.
The book likely will evoke different reactions, depending on the reader's age, race and racial prejudices -- or hopefully, the lack thereof. But everyone I know who has read the book enjoyed it and recommended it to others.
As for myself, I grew up in the 50s and 60s in Marked Tree, Arkansas, in a middle-class family not wealthy enough to have a full-time maid. So, I can remember an era when blacks and whites used different public restrooms and attended different, allegedly "separate but equal" schools. By the mid- to late 60s, a black lady named Josephine would occasionally clean our small house maybe once every two weeks or so and cook dinner -- supper we Southerners more often call it. I remember how much Mama loved coming home from her work as a teacher to a clean house, a pot of pinto beans and a pan of hoe cake -- or, as Josephine called, it "dog bread." Would you like a recipe with no promises that it will taste as good as Josephine's? Let me know.
Josephine was kind to my family, and I honestly recall nothing but kindness to her. Unlike the characters in this book, we had no bathroom restrictions and would have never considered them. Josephine was not a young woman then, and I don't know if she's still alive. But if she is, I hope she's enjoying retirement, eating buttered dog bread with a bowl of beans, some wilted lettuce -- and getting someone to clean her own house for a change. And maybe she -- or at least her children, grandchildren or other loved ones -- will read this book and have some views to share themselves.
I would love to hear from people of all colors, ages and genders about their thoughts on this book. I suspect, by the way, it's going to be made into a movie.
Some of the maids' recollections are sad and bitter. Others are happy, even loving. Some, especially Minnie's "unmentionable" story that finally gets more than a mention, will make you laugh our loud.
The book likely will evoke different reactions, depending on the reader's age, race and racial prejudices -- or hopefully, the lack thereof. But everyone I know who has read the book enjoyed it and recommended it to others.
As for myself, I grew up in the 50s and 60s in Marked Tree, Arkansas, in a middle-class family not wealthy enough to have a full-time maid. So, I can remember an era when blacks and whites used different public restrooms and attended different, allegedly "separate but equal" schools. By the mid- to late 60s, a black lady named Josephine would occasionally clean our small house maybe once every two weeks or so and cook dinner -- supper we Southerners more often call it. I remember how much Mama loved coming home from her work as a teacher to a clean house, a pot of pinto beans and a pan of hoe cake -- or, as Josephine called, it "dog bread." Would you like a recipe with no promises that it will taste as good as Josephine's? Let me know.
Josephine was kind to my family, and I honestly recall nothing but kindness to her. Unlike the characters in this book, we had no bathroom restrictions and would have never considered them. Josephine was not a young woman then, and I don't know if she's still alive. But if she is, I hope she's enjoying retirement, eating buttered dog bread with a bowl of beans, some wilted lettuce -- and getting someone to clean her own house for a change. And maybe she -- or at least her children, grandchildren or other loved ones -- will read this book and have some views to share themselves.
I would love to hear from people of all colors, ages and genders about their thoughts on this book. I suspect, by the way, it's going to be made into a movie.
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