Food memoir. Fascinating and well written. Partly of interest to me because she came of age roughly when I did and some of her stomping grounds overlap with mine (she went to Hampshire College for a year; I went to UMass Amherst). She is an unusual chef/restaurant owner for coming up through catering rather than working the line up to executive chef in someone else’s restaurant first. Hard working bad ass with crucial food experiences in Italy.
I also could relate personally, having been a lesser kind of bad ass who helped support herself from age 16 to 22 by working in restaurants. I’ve been a dishwasher, a salad girl, and a waitress in low and high end restaurants. Most memorable: kneeling to serve misonabe in huge clay pots in a tatami room for several summers. This was in a Japanese restaurant housed in a Victorian mansion at the intersection of Routes 20 and 22 in New Lebanon, New York. The kitchen was on the first floor and the tatami rooms were on the second floor. It was not for nothing that a customer once rudely referred to another waitress as a “stevedore.” (She was my height with rope-hard calves). But seriously, the teriyaki was served in iron skillets, the misonabes and yosenabes in eight inch diameter clay pots (with lids!) Put four of those on a tray, balance it on your shoulder, walk up a long, split stair case, lower the tray to a stand and then kneel to serve each and every one of those heavy, heavy dishes. Don’t forget to kick off your shoes!
You’d have strong calves, too!
This book was a debut novel or I’d rate it lower. If I was a book reviewer, I’d try to discern why I found the writing a little disappointing — after all the author got me to turn more than 300 pages in less than a week — but I’ll offer only one thing. The unlikeable main character.
The main character doesn’t realize her husband has early onset Alzheimer’s for an excessively long time because of the ignorance of the times. Okay. But she tolerates his bad behavior for so long and surely she had to see he suffered from SOME KIND of mental illness? She also delays getting help for a ridiculously long time. So between that and her insufferable need to social climb out of her humble beginnings in Brooklyn, I disliked her quite a lot. Really good writing can make up for an unlikeable character, but here?
I also read A Tree Grows in Brooklyn this week. There were interesting overlaps with Thomas’s book in terms of place and time and I see why it goes on many people’s top ten lists but it wouldn’t go on mine. For one thing, the trope about the poor girl in rags reading a book a week just made me roll my eyes. (The alcoholic Irish dad, also a trope I suppose, didn’t bother me at all. He was rendered with some affection and depth). For another thing, it’s a little repetitive. And predictable.
It’s a depiction of a very poor family at the turn of the century in Brooklyn. Mother who cleans houses. Father who sings for a penny when he can and drinks. A son and daughter who have to drop out of school to earn their two dollars a week to help support the family. The details about what a family in these dire financial straights might eat in a week with no money was particularly compelling and called to mind things I’d heard from my father’s childhood. He was born about ten years after this novel ends. Raised on Brooklyn/Queens line. Also Catholic.
The book runs right into 1918 and although there was a lot of mention of entering the war in 1917, there was only passing reference to the influenza epidemic. For obvious reasons, I hoped otherwise.
Last night I finished Where the Crawdads Sing. Read it almost in a sitting. I definitely see what all the fuss is about.
When writing a novel, sometimes you avoid certain books because you don’t want to be undermined by them or discouraged by them or maybe for less clear reasons. I still haven’t read Indigo Girl by Natasha Boyd or The Invention of Wings by Sue Monk Kidd, though both are on the shelf upstairs. I’d avoided Owens’s book, too, even though it’s set in North and not South Carolina, just because.
Well. It’s a compelling and beautifully crafted book.
- Landscape descriptions of the low lands are stunning and evocative
- Depictions of trauma imposed by physical abuse and abandonment are believable and consistent and drive the story in interesting ways
- There is redemption and a surprise twist
- It proves the power of an author depositing a dead body in an early chapter
- Time flashing back and forth well done
- Author made two of the central character’s saviors Black without turning them into completely secondary and non-dimensional figures
- Nature is a character in the best possible way
Let me just note, too, the synchronicity between the NC novel and Hamilton’s food memoir. Both the female character in Crawdads and the real live author/chef of Blood, Bones, and Butter were the last of five children and abandoned by their mothers. We’re not talking about mere psychological abandonment — their mothers walked right out of their lives. Some of Hamilton’s teenage years have a feral quality to them — stealing cars, passing herself off as three years older to get work in a kitchen and then moving to NYC as a young teenager and getting into drugs.
ALL of the years of Owens’s female character have a feral quality to them. It is the defining quality of her life, in fact. Nature is her companion, her parent, her teacher, and her source of survival.
And now three quotes from conversation between Brene Brown and Tim Ferris in recent podcast:
Ninety percent of pathology is armor.
The replacement for armor is curiosity.
Lasting change has to be driven by self-acceptance.
It is cold here. Suitable for the Cold Moon.
Thank you, Dee! wonderful notes and noticings and notations for right now.
You’re welcome. Happy new year to all of us!!
(((Dee))) always enjoy your reviews, “Where the Crawdads Sing” has been recommended repeatedly this year but I read the synopsis and haven’t been enticed, have just started reading “The Dictionary of Animal Languages” by Heidi Sopinka, fabulous so far…
And I enjoy your recommendations though I don’t read fast enough to keep up! I felt the same way about Crawdads. Honestly, I expected to be put off or disappointed or something. I think that’s part of why I’m gushing about it here. But of course, it might not appeal to you.
hmmm… ok will give it a go…
I love when you give book reviews .. how you manage to read a book in a day or two is beyond me. For Christmas I got American Dirt by Jeannine Cummins I just started and so for I’m liking her writing style. It’ll take me a good couple weeks to get though it. We got a lot of heavy snow overnight so I decided to do a bit of snow dying .. it is my favorite way to dye fabric. I’m not at all sad about seeing 2020 come to an end but overwhelmingly grateful that those I love most in this world are all still here to celebrate a New Year. Happy New Year to you and all those you love .. let there be Peace on Earth comes to mind.
I think we might have gone back and forth about American Dirt over on Instagram so I’ll be interested to hear what you think. I ended up being fairly persuaded by her more savage reviewers and have stayed away.
Happy new year to you, too, Tina! How we deserve a better year upcoming. January 20 just cannot come fast enough!
It is always, always a delight to read your reviews. Often your words speak for my perceptions, as well…sometimes we are on different sides of the equation, but always a delight to engage with your thoughts. Thanks for being articulate and clear in your writing.
Hi Kristin. And thank you for throwing in your two cents.
Dee~ That restaurant work sounds grueling!! I don’t think I could have done that. I did work as a sub busboy for three weeks in my early 20’s. It was in the one, old very well known casino in town where I lived. what an experience!
I love how you write reviews from the reader who’s a writer perspective…informative! I’m reading How to Be Black by Baratunde Thurston, 2012 (I’ve probably said this & yes I read slow, need new glasses)…it is heavy and light at the same time, but it feels more light than heavy.
I ran out to look at the moon late last night, way up in the sky, looking little…cold cement on my bare feet!
Do tell about the bear…he’s fabulous!!! There is a most beautiful book called Story for Bear that his facial expression reminds me of.
Happiest New Year to you and your men, continued healing light to your brother.
Happy new year to you and yours, too, Nancy. The bear is one of my recent attempts at needle felting. I’ve been wanting to learn how to do it for years. It’s time consuming but a lot of fun (if you don’t poke yourself), very forgiving materials. This bear was for son #2. My older son got the first fox I ever made.
sometimes I notice myself getting ‘way into the stabbing process. I really love the book I’m still/currently reading so am stretching it out rather than finish, reflect, and move on. is kind of a first for me.