So, basically, Tina Fey sat down and wrote a book about her life. Hilarity ensues. (Full disclosure: I listened to the audiobook. I have found that the best vehicles for memoirs are the authors reading their own words. I feel like I get more from it.)
I labeled this as "edutainment" because it is full of life lessons, and if I were starting out in the world I would turn to it as inspiration for not letting presumptions about my gender keep me from succeeding. After all, if not for her persistence, SNL would NEVER have aired the hilarious Kotex Classic commercial.
She covers everything from her scar (questions about which say more about that asker than they do about her) to what it's like to say, in front of your father whom you admire so much, that your wonky little show has been picked up for a full season. Her prayer for her daughter is poignant and hilarious and true, and the images she includes for our viewing pleasure are honest and relatable.
This is one of those books that I'm telling all the ladies in my life to read, and if I had the funds, I would just buy everyone copies. (If you're a person who spends a lot of time in your car, get the audio. Trust me. But beware: at time I was laughing so hard I cried. That could be problematic.)
So I tagged this "reader recommendation" even though not a soul actually told me to read it. I found it listed on my Sister-In-Law's Amazon wish list and thought to myself "hey - that goes perfectly with my food memoir streak! AND it's Italian food, which I haven't read, yet. Excellent!" So then I checked it out from the library, thinking if it is good then I'll pluck it off her list and send it to her for Christmas.
Well, it is that good. (It's no longer on her list, though, and not due to me!)
In fact, I have only two complaints about this book: firstly, there are no recipes. NO RECIPES, BILL! Way to hold out. There are descriptions of techniques, and a little insight into why restaurant food never tastes as good as it does in your home kitchen (batch size and measurement techniques, for starters) and that's all well and good...but throw us a bone, man! On the other hand, I must now go to Italy, find a grandmother, and convince her to teach me how to make pasta. So it's not all for nothing.
The second one - he referenced so many texts, and listed some of them in the acknowledgements, but I'm going to have to give this a re-read to truly retain all of the information. Which might have been his plan, because re-reading is really the best excuse ever for buying a book. So now I'll buy one for myself, and that means I'm more likely to buy it as gifts...I'm on to you, Buford.
So basically - he starts off as a journalist who decides he wants to learn how to cook - a lost art, in his opinion (mine, too.) He calls up his good friend Mario Batali (how has HE been off my radar?) and becomes a slave in the Babbo kitchen. Amongst these adventures, he gives us Batali's backstory, and then follows his footsteps to Italy. In two distinct small towns he learns the lost art of pasta making (no machine!) from a Grandmother and butchery from The Maestro. No kidding, that's what he calls his mentor. Divine.
So if you're into food, Italian food, culture, food history, or just a good read - this Buford's for you. If you're a vegetarian (&etc) be warned: beef cheeks are just the tip of the iceberg. He does reflect a little on eating animals, mentioning that Vegetarians are the most aware that the bacon on your plate was once a pig in someone's pen, and he speaks of all of them with the utmost respect. So it's not gross...but I'm a carnivore.
I could go on and on filling your head with spoilers but I won't do that to you. You should read it. Because it is very good.
I was turned onto this one by The Avid Reader, and I have to say that I agree with her account - it's fun and worth reading if you're into music and/or the 80s, but I'm probably not going to add it to my bookshelf.
That being said, Sheffield is engaging, using phrases like "bogarting your fair share of feminine attention." He also, in a way that could be annoying but falls mercifully into amusing, uses phrasing from the songs he enjoys - not outright quoting, but twisting it a little. The best part of this book is a) (Obviously) the music and b) his healthy respect for sisters. As a sister, I appreciate this. Even though he's the oldest child, his sisters wear the pants and he was happy under their tutelage.
The whole time I was reading I kept thinking "so this is a real life Rob-From-High Fidelity" and then when he had a chapter of the 30 best cassingles ever, I felt vindicated. He IS a real life Rob-From-High Fidelity!
Now that I have finished it I will likely stop spinning up the Hits of the 80s, but I want to watch all of my music-lover movies and re-read some of my music-lover books. Which is really something a good book should do - not trap you in its loop, but say "hey, here's some greatness....let it lead you to other greatness."
Of course, there's always an exception to this rule. One of his favorite songs, great in a love-to-hate-it way: (please note the fishnet bodysuit with red chastity belt combo.)
First - despite the title and the cover (neither of which Weaver seems to have approved of) it is not a romance. Unless you count a romance with food as "romance"...but even still, there's no love story. So get that out of your head before you read it.
Second - there are no recipes. I'm sure (as a friend mentioned) that there were copyright issues, but still. Still. Waxing poetic about chimichurri and then leaving me to find a recipe is just mean.
Third- this is a very good read, those first two point notwithstanding. The premise is that Weaver has spent her entire life a) as a vegetarian who eats meat on occasion and b) being plagued by mysterious health issues. She visits several doctors of several varieties, and follows everyone's orders. Beginning with: make chicken broth from scratch.
What follows is a moral crisis coupled with an exploration of food that few people are privy to. Her status as Writer allows for interviews and tours that most people only dream about. The bonus is that if you live in the San Francisco Bay Area or the Seattle area, you can reap the rewards of her hard work.
The book made me hungry, sure. Not as hungry as some of the other books I've been reading lately, but there were many times I would need a snack after getting a few pages in. It also made me rethink how we eat...much like Plenty and Fast Food Nation did. In a good way.
I won't tell you how it ends...but I will tell you it's a very interesting journey. So, take points 1 and 2 into account, and then pick it up.
I have decided that food writers might be my favorite people. It's one of the few area where you don't just stumble into it and you're "meh" about food but you write anyway...if that were the case you'd be out of a job faster than it takes your last review to become bird cage liner...or whatever the blog equivalent is.
And yes, Molly Wizenberg has a blog. That's how I found her*. She's Orangette. And she came to have the blog because she Loves food. Capital L, Loves. And it shines through. Every essay is a rosy memory of her life, scented with the aromas of whichever kitchen was nearby. Luckily - those land in our laps as recipes because Molly (you don't mind that I call you Molly, do you?) is emphatically Anti-Secret-Recipe. All the better for us, eh?
I've tagged this as cozy because it is. She has reduced her life to its essence: soul searching via her taste buds. There are moments of tenderness, sadness (her father's illness and passing are related in a frank way that tugged at my heart,) and celebration, and giddiness. There are no great revelations (except for french toast in oil - GENIUS) and there's no great moral to smack you in the face and although you'll spend a lot of time hungry while you read this book, you won't have gained five pounds by the end of it. Or maybe you will have - it all comes down to quantity, doesn't it?
I ordered this book through my local bookshop before I'd even finished the copy borrowed from the library - and we've made one recipe (french toast in oil. Did I mention it's genius?) and I've earmarked another...chocolate cake on Easter? They procured me the paperback - and a pleasant surprise is that it has discussion in the back, complete with a little Q&A with Molly herself. I heartily endorse this as a book club book, as long as someone brings cake.
A note to the vegetarians in the crowd: Molly's husband, Brandon, is a vegetarian, so there are quite a few meatless recipes. But Molly isn't, so there is also meat to be had...mostly fish. Nothing to worry about if you're squeamish.
Dig in!
*Full disclosure: when the book first came out it took long enough to make it to my stack that I was in the throws of the Worst Morning Sickness Ever and not only had I hidden all of my food blogs, but I just couldn't read it. So back to the library it went and I forgot about it until Amster-Burton name checked Molly in Hungry Monkey. Thank you, Amster-Burton. All of the stomachs in our house are grateful.
You knew I was going to read this. You probably saw the article that triggered the firestorm that alerted me to the existence of the book. If not, it's here.
I'm still digesting, and mostly my thoughts are about how we're raising our son - Chua's experience is the exact opposite of the experiences that I've been seeking out. She is the opposite of unschooling, the opposite of being the boat that rides the waves, the opposite of finding a moment and seeing the beauty in the ordinary. She is driven, she is stubborn, she is (this is the universal part) parenting her children in the manner in which she was parented.
I do not agree with all of her approaches (the worst of which - until the meltdown that humbles her* - are in the WSJ article) but I can't completely fault her. Her prose is engaging, her motivation is truly love for her daughters, and were I to sit next to her at a party I think I would enjoy her company.
She says, over and over, that there is tongue-in-cheek humor...but it's insider humor. Unless you are the child of an immigrant it might sail past you and leave a bad taste in your mouth. Statements that come across as judgmental would likely be hilarious to Westerners had they been written by Matt Groenig (or Trey Parker or Matt Stone) and delivered by Homer Simpson (or one of the four South Park kids.) Humor is cultural, and I suspect that is why this book has struck such a nerve.
Does she have some truly heinous parenting moments? Yes. But who doesn't? She also has moments of clarity and brilliance where everything seems to come together, and at the end...she learns and grows, which is really all anyone can do.
As Calvin's dad said: You do the best you can with the knowledge you have. (Yes, he said it first, Not Oprah. When I run across the strip, I'll scan it and prove it.)
The book has made me think...really think and really scrutinize my plans and how they will impact my child as he grows. Whether I agree with her or not, that is the best thing a book can do for you. As you read, you look around and think "is this really the best life I can lead? Are my intentions pure?" Few authors trigger those thoughts (I am lucky to have reviewed some of them here) and Chua is among them.
*the subtitle: "The is a story about a mother, two daughters, and two dogs. The was supposed to be a story of how Chinese parents are better at raising their kids than Western ones. But instead, it's about a bitter clash of cultures, a fleeting tastes of glory, and how I was humbled by a thirteen-year-old."
I bought this for my husband last year with the knowledge that when he finished it, I would read it. I just finished it. Literally, I just read through the last section of "recommended reading, our favorite convenience foods, and acknowledgments." The book is filled with flags of further reading or items to investigate and I have already made one of the recipes (bibimbap.)
Amster-Burton is a food writer and father living in Seattle with his wife, Laurie, and daughter, Iris. Here is something annoying: Iris at the time of writing was 4. Iris at the onset of fun food was about 20 months. Which is six months from where we are and I find myself impatient. But I digress.
This book is engaging. It is funny. It is inspirational and appetizing....that is, I would have a nice, full dinner and a little while later I would read a chapter or two in the bath and when I emerged I would be starving and inspired to really cook. Hence the bibimbap, which was delicious.
Amster starts with the precept that there is no baby food. There is only people food, presented in such a way that babies can eat it. And he went from there. He also invited Iris into the kitchen - one of the most intriguing slices of their life is the way Iris participates (or opts out because she's "busy lying on the couch.") Through tales of farmers markets, fishmongers, preschool snack days, and pasta sauce, Amster invites you in to his kitchen - there is no doubt in my mind that given the chance the invitation would be real and the casual comraderie would not falter. Or I'm just a crazy fan who reads too much into things. Either way, I really want a sequel.
He has a blog, and this entry has video footage with Iris, so you can see just how cute she really is:
PS - they are NOT vegetarians, so if you take issue with things like "it starts with flank steak" or "We bought a live lobster" then be warned those parts are in there. But don't skip the book. There are muffins and udon, too!
I thoroughly enjoyed Miller's other book, so I made sure I was able to savor this one, in which she takes us along on her journey as a new mother, musing over lullabies and sleepless nights, food struggles, television guilt, schedules, and the sudden illness and passing of her own mother. I do not personally know Karen (although we are "facebook friends") but as I read her reflection on the loss of her mother, I mourned with her.
Miller is moving and inspirational without being the kind of person who gives Moving Inspirational Speeches. She quietly shows you how things work for her and provides space for you to recognize what is (and isn't) working for you. Here is a space to allow yourself to truly feel what you are feeling and then the gentle guidance needed to let all of that go.
A random pull quote:
"On a perfect day in your perfect little world (and it's always perfect) there is breakfast time, playtime, lunchtime, nap time, snack time, dinnertime, bath time, story time, and bedtime. There is time for everything when you are the timekeeper." (p68)
It is not just her own wisdom that she shares, every chapter opens with a quote from Sutras, Blessings, Buddhist Lessons, and the Wise Ones who came before. The book ends with a lesson on How to Meditate, and follows with an index "For the Hard Days", in which you can look up lessons for the help you most need right now.
Miller is a Zen Buddhist Priest, and while that informs her writings and her lessons, she neither shoves it down your throat nor urges you to throw off your previous labels and Join Her. She merely invites you in to a place where the people are just people, lives are just lived, and every moment exists in your breath. I consider myself lucky to have both of her books on my shelf.
I firmly believe that anyone who thinks they should have a say - or that there should be legislation defining - what makes a family needs to read this book. Because Miller is honest and moving and most definitely a mother. And I say this as a straight, monogamous mother.
I have to admit, though, that I grabbed it off the library end cap on a whim. I'm on a Mommy-Memoir kick (in case you haven't noticed) and so it appealed to me. I hesitated, though when I saw that Amie is a lesbian. Not because I was turned off by the concept, but because I wasn't sure if I could relate. But I did. I can. I think that any human who has tried, succeeded, considered, is considering, and/or may one day bring another human into their life will relate.
In fact - my only issue with the whole thing was the few times when she said "because I am a lesbian, I am ________." And I thought "no, honey, because you are a woman/human/parent you are...." Not that lesbians aren't, but they haven't cornered the market.
I was moved to tears so many times. I'll admit it. There might have been wine involved, but there were definitely tears. Tears when the pregnancy took. Tears when their daughter was born. Tears and tears and more tears. She overcame huge hurdles - and she shares them with such honesty and fearlessness that it's no wonder she is in her third decade with her wife.
There is no way to avoid the politics of the situation while reading. I fall firmly in favor of not needing the legislation that is constantly in trouble or about to be voted on. Why? Because the LGBT community is covered by the 14th amendment.
In a totally cute (and enlightening) offshoot: the author interviews her daughter. Read it here.
The title for this one says it all, really. With flashbacks to her childhood, and a present-time recounting that spans her first ten years of motherhood and yoga study, Dederer takes us through her own rite of passage. Can it be a rite of passage when it's a memoir written by an adult about her adult life? I'm going to say yes. I'm also going to call it a coming-of-age piece and a truly fun read.
The tagline on her website reads: "What if you turned your life upside down...and wound up with both feet on the ground?"
I identify with Dederer on several levels and I'm convinced that is what made this book so enjoyable for me. But rather than go on and on about me, I thought I was going to do something even better: answer one of the "reading group" questions from the website. But all of those made me want to talk about me.
So I will just say this: read this book. If you like yoga. If you like memoirs. If you like funny, self-depricating stories where the heroine and her family nearly implode only to jump their proverbial shark and put themselves back on the right track. Read it if you like heart warming, cozy, inspiring tales of a person whose childhood was left-of-center but who grew up to be alright anyway. And certainly read it if you just aren't sure what to read next. Let it inspire you to be brave.
This delightful little tome was hidden in the "Self Help" section of Borders...which is a bit like sticking Heathers in the Suspense section of Blockbuster (it's a comedy, people.) While the subtitle does lend itself to being a "how-to-DIY-your life into amazingness," the real inspiration lies in Miller's recollections and reflections and for that I call it a memoir.
While Miller is a mother, this is not (necessarily) a book for mothers. Or for fathers, for that matter. It's a book for people who would like to know how to slow down a little and enjoy their life as it comes to them...people who want to take care of themselves in a way that you just don't find at a gym or (ironically) in the self-help section.
Miller, a Zen Buddhist Priest and teacher (Sensei), is spiritual without being preachy. Her faith might not be your faith and that's alright because the answer doesn't necessarily lie in faith. It lies in the willingness to slow down and take your life as it comes.
There's a quote on the back by Katrina Kenison that sums it up nicely:
"Ever found yourself up to your elbows in the messy stuff of your own everyday life and wondered, "Is this all there is?" Karen Maezen Miller answers that age-old question with a resounding "Yes." Read this deceptively simple, deeply wise little book not to change your life, but to fall quietly, unequivocally back in love with the life you already have."
I feel that I will read this one again and again and every time I will glean new insights into why and how my life is perfect just as it is. You should, too. And bonus: she has a blog.
PS - a little confession, as I read I keep flashing to Dorothy at the end of The Wizard of Oz: "...if I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I won't look any further than my own back yard. Because if it isn't there, I never really lost it to begin with! Is that right?"
You know a book is going to be good when it opens with this quote:
"Cooking is like love. It should be entered into with abandon or not at all."
- Harriet Van Horne
I'm pretty sure I gained at least 5 pounds just reading this book. If not, then over the next two weeks while I try out the recipes that follow most of the chapters I certainly will. I will enjoy every second from shopping to plating, though, because unlike Flinn... I am not being graded.
At 36, after finding herself having been made redundant while on vacation (so harsh,) Flinn takes her severance, her savings, and her boyfriend (who is an enabler, encouraging Flinn to follow her dream) and goes to Paris ti study at Le Cordon Bleu. We follow along with her as she explores Paris, entertains house guests, and drops food on the floor. We meet the other students and chefs (whose names have been changed) and Flinn manages to give us a peek into the classes while not revealing anything that the school would rather people enroll to learn. Even the recipes are Flinn's personal contributions or adaptations.
I devoured (haha) this book on a plane ride, and now I need to go to Paris and Culinary school. Flinn paints both with a brush so attractive that even the sketchy parts, the long hours, and the angry chefs come across as character building and endearing. In fact, the only thing that bothered me at all about her journey was that it wasn't longer. I wanted just a little bit more...but even as I say that I'm not sure where I wanted it to come from. The story is complete and just thorough enough. Perhaps what it I'm wanting is to read the next chapter - how much longer did they stay in Paris? What did she do with her newfound skills (aside from the book, obviously.) What is Mike doing? Her sister? What ever happened to the awful houseguests? Her classmates? I want a sequel. And a movie. Thankfully, when you ask...the internet delivers.
I am lucky to have found this book while my son is still so young. Kenison is at the other side of parenthood: one son entering high school as the other prepares to leave it. She throws another wrench into the works by determining that *now* is the perfect time to move from the only home their sons have ever known.
We follow the entire family on their journey from cozy home in a familiar and friendly neighborhood through a period of unrest; the old home sold before they had a new one picked out and Jack (the younger son) rebels in a way that only 13 year old boys can. There are flashbacks, anecdotes, revelations and insights. I found myself pulling quotes to keep in the back of my head, most timely:
"The thoughtful life is not rushed."
Before long, Henry, the oldest, starts looking at colleges. Kenison starts taking a long hard look at what nurturing means when your children no longer need nurturing.
Ultimately, the family lands in a small town in the mountains, in possession of a house they're not entirely sure what to do with and surrounded by strangers. Well, they are strangers until a shop keeper becomes a friend and points out that there are partners all around, waiting to help...and by the close of this particular chapter in the Kenison's lives there are new friends and partners filling it.
This book does not drip with sentiment, or preach about how your life should be lived. This is a woman sharing her journey towards balance. I do not think that you need to be a parent yourself to read it. I think anyone who has...well, lived, can relate to the events and emotions. And everyone can relate to how charming life because when even ordinary days are viewed as gifts.
The short answer here is: just about everything. I grew up in a family of readers and am an aspiring author. I'm going to aim to average a review a week here, barring unforeseen suckiness in what I'm reading. I'm also going to adopt the rule that Nick Hornby and the team at The Believer used: if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all.
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