I was a bit dubious when a friend gave me a copy of Audrey Niffenegger's new novel, Her Fearful Symmetry. After all, I rarely enjoy any science fiction, whether in a book or on film. The same goes for fantasy and, as I often put it, anything that's not possible. So, Niffenegger surprised me with her eerily suspenseful, quietly romantic, simple but elegant prose, and frankly implausible story -- implausible unless you believe in ghosts and modern-day resurrections, that is.
The book is the tale of Edie and Elspeth, identical twin sisters, and the identical twin sisters to whom one of them gave birth, Valentina and Julia. The novel is set mostly in London in a a two- or three-flat abutting the aging Highgate Cemetery, where the likes of Karl Marx, Christina Rossetti and the parents of Charles Dickens are buried. ... not to mention Elspeth, who dies in the first chapter. Or does she?
The cemetery has been the setting of other novels and is the place where one of Count Dracula's victims is buried in Bram Stoker's classic book. Niffenegger, who lives in Chicago and who wrote the bestseller The Time Traveler's Wife, has been a tour guide a the cemetery.
The novel also weaves in a likable researcher who's a hoarder with an obsessive compulsive disorder, a cemetery guide who's a harmless stalker, romance and sisterly love even to the point of obsession, and more than a couple ghosts who amazingly come across as highly plausible characters.
Some of the characters in Her Fearful Symmetry are, shall we say, more than a tad flawed. So don't read this novel with the expectation of finding a hero, a saint or even a normal person for that matter.
My only complaint with the book is the ending. I'm OK with Hollywood endings. I'm also fine with more realistic, even tragic endings. But like one of Niffenegger's ghosts, I hate to be left out of the loop, in the dark, with no clue as to what is happening. And that's exactly how her ending left me. I'd love to read your comments on what you think happened to Robert in the end if you've read the book.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin
I looked hard for this book. After all, my book club was reading it, and it had been on bestseller lists for, like, forever. And I had to admit: Three Cups of Tea is a great title. I went to three or four stores before I found it. When I finally did, I grabbed it. Then, I started the book, only to discover Mortenson and Relin can't write. Mortenson may have inspired others with this book, but he definitely didn't inspire me. I gave up after a few chapters and re-sold the boring book. I have no intention of wasting my too-short life reading such poor writing. I don't know if it's true, but I heard that the U.S. military requires people being stationed in Afghanistan to read this book. If so, maybe those forced purchases help account for the book's reign on bestseller lists.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
The Tenth Muse by Judith Jones
For many years, Judith Jones was the editor behind the scenes. Now, she is the writer sharing her memoirs and food insights with readers. Jones was the New York editor who noticed the previously rejected Diary of Anne Frank and got it published. She was also the editor who helped Julia Child choose the title of Child's breakout cookbook, Mastering the Art of French Cooking.
If that's not enough of a resume, Jones has worked with such legends and cookbook authors as James Beard, Elizabeth David, Lidia Bastianich, Claudia Roden and Edna Lewis.
The small book abounds in wonderful stories of how Jones and her late husband, Evan, enjoyed cooking and experimenting with food together both in Paris and in the United States. It's also abundant with juicy tidbits about some of the cookbook authors. She quotes a snooty note David wrote her in response to a seemingly legitimate editing question. Jones' memories of Child reflect friendship but especially respect. The same goes for James Beard, although she does mention his reputation for endorsing products perhaps a bit too easily for some of his colleagues' comfort. She tells how cooking helped Marion Cunningham of Fannie Farmer fame give up alcohol and overcome agoraphobia.
Jones' book kept me reading late into the night. As a bonus, she includes several photos of herself with her husband, other family members and authors. There's a great one showing the late Southern cooking icon Edna Lewis and Cunningham chatting together.
Several recipes are another bonus. Beware, though: Jones seems to have more exotic tastebuds than many people. Sweetbreads and kidneys are especially alluring to her.
If that's not enough of a resume, Jones has worked with such legends and cookbook authors as James Beard, Elizabeth David, Lidia Bastianich, Claudia Roden and Edna Lewis.
The small book abounds in wonderful stories of how Jones and her late husband, Evan, enjoyed cooking and experimenting with food together both in Paris and in the United States. It's also abundant with juicy tidbits about some of the cookbook authors. She quotes a snooty note David wrote her in response to a seemingly legitimate editing question. Jones' memories of Child reflect friendship but especially respect. The same goes for James Beard, although she does mention his reputation for endorsing products perhaps a bit too easily for some of his colleagues' comfort. She tells how cooking helped Marion Cunningham of Fannie Farmer fame give up alcohol and overcome agoraphobia.
Jones' book kept me reading late into the night. As a bonus, she includes several photos of herself with her husband, other family members and authors. There's a great one showing the late Southern cooking icon Edna Lewis and Cunningham chatting together.
Several recipes are another bonus. Beware, though: Jones seems to have more exotic tastebuds than many people. Sweetbreads and kidneys are especially alluring to her.
Every Day in Tuscany by Frances Mayes
I loved Frances Mayes' first bestseller, Under the Tuscan Sun. I really liked her sequel, Bella Tuscany. Subtract the tedious sections where Mayes seems to be filling space and giving readers an unsolicited art-history course and I can truthfully say I enjoyed but didn't love her newest non-fiction book of travel and food writing, Every Day in Tuscany: Seasons of an Italian Life.
Unlike the two previous works, this book focuses less on the house Mayes and her husband, Ed, have restored and much more on the Italian way of eating -- meaning the slow-food movement was in Italy long before the movement was invented. Not only slow-food, but slow-eating, too. Mayes speaks of five-hour dinners mingled with family, friends and casual acquaintances, fresh but simple food galore and enough conversation and laughter to keep a talk-show host entertained. Food is first. Work is second. Dinners and lunches with friends and friends are not something relegated to the 1950s or to celebrity cooks like Bobby Flay and Ina Garten. As Mayes tells it, such feasts are a staple of life in Tuscany.
This book gives a bigger presence to Mayes' family -- her writer husband; her grandson Willie, a little boy with an adventuresome palate; and her daughter -- not to mention her friends and even a few unidentified enemies. The house, effectively the main character of Frances Mayes' previous books, takes on a supporting role in this work. I don't think her previous books ever stated she was married to Mayes. This one makes it clear.
Mayes' latest work also explores her fascination with the Italian artist Signorelli. I love art and art literature but did not find Mayes to be the best story-teller when it comes to this subject. In fact, her chapters that focused on Signorelli's works and life were downright boring at times.
Some of Mayes' words seem self-contradictory. She questions whether there's a hereafter and doesn't come off as particularly religious. Yet, she seeks comfort in lighting candles in a cathedral. Is it the place, the ritual or the intangible beliefs these things represent to her?
I enjoy the book and recommend it to Mayes' fans. But they shouldn't expect a memoir of the same quality as Under the Tuscan Sun. They can expect some more good recipes, though, and another taste of Tuscany.
Unlike the two previous works, this book focuses less on the house Mayes and her husband, Ed, have restored and much more on the Italian way of eating -- meaning the slow-food movement was in Italy long before the movement was invented. Not only slow-food, but slow-eating, too. Mayes speaks of five-hour dinners mingled with family, friends and casual acquaintances, fresh but simple food galore and enough conversation and laughter to keep a talk-show host entertained. Food is first. Work is second. Dinners and lunches with friends and friends are not something relegated to the 1950s or to celebrity cooks like Bobby Flay and Ina Garten. As Mayes tells it, such feasts are a staple of life in Tuscany.
This book gives a bigger presence to Mayes' family -- her writer husband; her grandson Willie, a little boy with an adventuresome palate; and her daughter -- not to mention her friends and even a few unidentified enemies. The house, effectively the main character of Frances Mayes' previous books, takes on a supporting role in this work. I don't think her previous books ever stated she was married to Mayes. This one makes it clear.
Mayes' latest work also explores her fascination with the Italian artist Signorelli. I love art and art literature but did not find Mayes to be the best story-teller when it comes to this subject. In fact, her chapters that focused on Signorelli's works and life were downright boring at times.
Some of Mayes' words seem self-contradictory. She questions whether there's a hereafter and doesn't come off as particularly religious. Yet, she seeks comfort in lighting candles in a cathedral. Is it the place, the ritual or the intangible beliefs these things represent to her?
I enjoy the book and recommend it to Mayes' fans. But they shouldn't expect a memoir of the same quality as Under the Tuscan Sun. They can expect some more good recipes, though, and another taste of Tuscany.
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