The title of this blog should say it all - I like books more than people. Those who know me might not think that's such a big deal given my distrust towards people in general, but it really does mean something. I promise.
This book was one of my favorite kinds - food combined with chick lit. Really, what could be better? The (few? imaginary?) male readers of this blog are probably thinking "Ummm...anything?" but I loved it...and I think you would too.
Melucci's story is autobiographical. It describes how she learned to cook through the important (yet failed) romantic relationships of her adult life. Her desire to be able to cook for the men in her life taught her the way around the kitchen. I know, I know, I get it. We're supposed to be educated, evolved women of 2009, no longer deriving pleasure from cooking for men...but I've gotta say, there is little I enjoy more than cooking for the loved ones in my life and watching their faces as they enjoy the food. I can burn an extra bra for that if you want, but I love it. And I loved that Melucci unapologetically wrote an entire book about how much she loved it. Granted, it wasn't entirely about how she loved to cook for men - rather it was about the effect her romantic relationships had on her evolving self - but it was honest and interesting.
She described the men in her life, their relationships, and the food she cooked for or with them. I enjoyed reading the recipes she included and her descriptions of how cooking made her feel. I am glad that I am able to say that as a reader, I appreciated learning more about her relationship with herself and her cooking than I did learning about her relationships with the men in her life. Granted, maybe it's just because I didn't think any of the men in the book sounded particularly appealing (one of them was over 60 years old) , but I think it says something about where I am in my life and what interests me. Something I like.
The book is a quick and easy read. It has food and sex. Quick, easy, food, sex. Now are the men interested?
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri
Unaccustomed Earth is another collection of short stories by Lahiri, similar to Interpreter of the Maladies. Both are amazing. Interpreter was a book assigned in AP English my senior year of high school - and granted, I was a big nerd in high school who usually completed my assignments, but I'm going to admit fully and completely that I would sometimes read the beginning and ending of chapters within books I wasn't interested in actually reading. There are so many amazing books out there - why waste your time reading those that don't interest you? I read every last word in Interpreter of the Maladies.
I've always been interested in Indian culture, so I suppose that has something to do with the reason I like Lahiri's books so much (her work also includes The Namesake, which is moving and grand and so...remarkable). But it also has something to do with Lahiri's rich descriptions that make you feel enveloped by the scenes she describes. I love Indian food because it is flavorful and spicy and exotic and rich...the experiences of eating Indian food and reading Lahiri's words are quite similar. They feel like falling into pillows covered in jewel toned velvets.
Who doesn't want that?
Side effects of Lahiri's work include an intense craving for naan.
I've always been interested in Indian culture, so I suppose that has something to do with the reason I like Lahiri's books so much (her work also includes The Namesake, which is moving and grand and so...remarkable). But it also has something to do with Lahiri's rich descriptions that make you feel enveloped by the scenes she describes. I love Indian food because it is flavorful and spicy and exotic and rich...the experiences of eating Indian food and reading Lahiri's words are quite similar. They feel like falling into pillows covered in jewel toned velvets.
Who doesn't want that?
Side effects of Lahiri's work include an intense craving for naan.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
One Fifth Avenue by Candace Bushnell
This may go without saying, but Bushnell's fame and success comes from writing the book that inspired the HBO Series, "Sex and the City." She's like JK Rowling for women of that undefined, amorphous age between college and your first child. Except, let's be honest, for a lot of those women (myself included) JK Rowling is JK Rowling because they love the fantasy world of Hogwarts and Harry Potter as much as they love the fantasy world of Manhattan where men like Mr. Big make Carrie Bradshaw an honest woman. I'm not quite this cynical yet, but I do wonder if at some point I will consider Harry's world to be more likely than Carrie's. Check back in a few years. We'll chat then.
Anyway, Bushnell has made a name for herself writing somewhat satirical social commentaries mostly focused on women in Manhattan - among her other books are Lipstick Jungle (which spawned a wonderful but unpopular series on NBC), Four Blondes (less highly regarded by women of my generation) and One Fifth Avenue. I've read all of them, but most recently I read One Fifth. It tells the story of a somewhat incestuous social circle in Manhattan - kind of a Small World, six degrees of separation tale. Bushnell has found her sweet spot as an author, her niche. She knows her characters and writes about them in a refreshingly biting tone, shedding light on the less savory parts of the Fabulous Life in Manhattan towards which so many aspire. I, for one, appreciate that...but I wonder if it is because I have never felt inclined to chase the Fabulous Life, and always wondered whether that meant that there was something inherently wrong with me. Seeing it through a less enamored eye is reassuring. Now, I hate to think what Bushnell would write about a 25 year old trying to find herself in Columbus, Ohio, but I think I'm safe from her scrutiny for the time being.
I think I liked One Fifth for the same reason so many women loved SATC. It was honest. It didn't try to convince you one way or the other - to love the life of the characters or to not. It just presented the facts in an honest light and allowed you to make the decision for yourself. That's one thing I find to be rather sickening about all the saccharine sweet chick lit novels out there today - they are trying so hard to convince you of something, to sell you on a fantasy. Bushnell is confident enough in her own storytelling abilities that she doesn't need to rely on the Fairytale Ending. Some might argue that Carrie and Big ending up together in the end was a departure from Bushnell's commitment to all that is Real - but I disagree. There was never any disguising how hard it was for the two of them to be together. There was work to be done.
I guess it comes down to this - Bushnell's writing isn't patronizing, and it isn't written in a way to shield you, dear reader, from the unfortunate truths of life. Rather, it finds a way to highlight the entertaining ironies of everyday Truths. It's clear that Bushnell respects her readers in a way that authors of typical chick lit (I'm talking to you, Lauren Weisberger) do not. She appreciates the idea that they will not shy away from the honest light.
So, with that said, I'd take Mr. Big over Prince Charming any day.
Anyway, Bushnell has made a name for herself writing somewhat satirical social commentaries mostly focused on women in Manhattan - among her other books are Lipstick Jungle (which spawned a wonderful but unpopular series on NBC), Four Blondes (less highly regarded by women of my generation) and One Fifth Avenue. I've read all of them, but most recently I read One Fifth. It tells the story of a somewhat incestuous social circle in Manhattan - kind of a Small World, six degrees of separation tale. Bushnell has found her sweet spot as an author, her niche. She knows her characters and writes about them in a refreshingly biting tone, shedding light on the less savory parts of the Fabulous Life in Manhattan towards which so many aspire. I, for one, appreciate that...but I wonder if it is because I have never felt inclined to chase the Fabulous Life, and always wondered whether that meant that there was something inherently wrong with me. Seeing it through a less enamored eye is reassuring. Now, I hate to think what Bushnell would write about a 25 year old trying to find herself in Columbus, Ohio, but I think I'm safe from her scrutiny for the time being.
I think I liked One Fifth for the same reason so many women loved SATC. It was honest. It didn't try to convince you one way or the other - to love the life of the characters or to not. It just presented the facts in an honest light and allowed you to make the decision for yourself. That's one thing I find to be rather sickening about all the saccharine sweet chick lit novels out there today - they are trying so hard to convince you of something, to sell you on a fantasy. Bushnell is confident enough in her own storytelling abilities that she doesn't need to rely on the Fairytale Ending. Some might argue that Carrie and Big ending up together in the end was a departure from Bushnell's commitment to all that is Real - but I disagree. There was never any disguising how hard it was for the two of them to be together. There was work to be done.
I guess it comes down to this - Bushnell's writing isn't patronizing, and it isn't written in a way to shield you, dear reader, from the unfortunate truths of life. Rather, it finds a way to highlight the entertaining ironies of everyday Truths. It's clear that Bushnell respects her readers in a way that authors of typical chick lit (I'm talking to you, Lauren Weisberger) do not. She appreciates the idea that they will not shy away from the honest light.
So, with that said, I'd take Mr. Big over Prince Charming any day.
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