Anthony Trollope has something like 47 novels to choose from, but this one is abundantly available in the KDL system, so that's why I chose it. You shouldn't have trouble getting one if you request a hold now. You can also find it in Google Books and Project Gutenburg.
I'll warn you ahead of time this book plops you into the middle of a series. It comes after The Warden in Trollope's Barsetshire series, but it's possible to catch on. Just keep reading, and Trollope will fill you in. The hardest thing about it is it's an ecclesiastical tale. The plot centers around the inner-workings of a cathedral town, and if you don't know the Anglican church -- like me -- it's easy to get lost in all the titles. What is a warden, after all? And an archdeacon, or preceptor? Doesn't really matter.
DailyLit calls it "A wry tale of posturing and clerical politics — and one very overbearing wife named Mrs. Proudie — in nineteenth century England." Victorian Web calls Mrs. Proudie "Trollope's greatest creation." Well-drawn characters are one of the things I love about Trollope.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Review of The Last Chinese Chef
If you're going to discuss a book about Chinese food, it should be at a Chinese restaurant. While China Chef in Standale doesn't serve Dongpo Pork or Spongy Tofu with Crab Sauce, we did find dumplings (pot stickers) and Shrimp in Bird's Nest on the menu. I had my camera with me, but did I remember to take my own photo of this lovely dish? No. The fillings shown here approximate what we had, but the "bird's nest" was not crisped noodles or shredded potato as the menu described, but a delicate "taco salad" shell. Very tasty, though, and highly recommended.
But this is a review of The Last Chinese Chef, by Nicole Mones, not a restaurant review. The book engendered good discussion, despite what I thought was flat writing and a predictable plot. The first failing is ironic, given the main character's job as a magazine writer her several notebooks full of Sam's cooking. Why do we only get one paragraph or so on their meal at that famous restaurant? Why don't I feel as though I'm smelling and tasting the food? Why don't I ever get a sense of place? I think it's because Mones' descriptive skills are sorely lacking, even though she herself has written for Gourmet magazine and won prizes for other novels.
As for the plot, Mones arouses no suspense over matters with which good writers usually have a field day: Will the child belong to Maggie's husband? Will she and Sam wind up together? Will he win the contest? At each turn there's a feeling of inevitability. You easily guess every answer correctly before the characters arrive at their revelation, or at least sense they won't be too terribly affected by negative outcomes. Maybe this is another post-modern novel. It contains no commitment, no passion, no drama. Okay, Sam is passionate about food (or at least we're told he is) and Maggie mourns her husband's loss, but do we feel it?
Nevertheless, the book raises interesting topics: about the place of food in our lives, our relationships with family, how to handle grief, feelings of belonging, etc. We enjoyed comparing what we learn of Chinese society and culture to our own. Discussion questions provided with the book club kit from the GR library system helped. Could we really spend as much time on food preparation as the Chinese do? (Is it possible all Chinese cook this way?) What are the merits of living to eat as opposed to eating to live? Is it an American (Western) trait to want to care for a child from another culture, even if that child is the product of an unfaithful spouse's relationship? Chinese manners for handling business seem inscrutible, but to what extent do Americans hide reality?
Post script: I returned to China Chef the next day for Egg Fu Yong (hubby feeling Chinese food-deprived), and had a chat about the book with the owner Melissa Tran and one of her servers. She described how in China chicken and fish would always be cooked and served whole, bones and all. Chinese are adept at taking a bite and feeling carefully for bones. This way, they take full advantage of the calcium provided. For this reason, Chinese are very strong, she said. Or at least they have been. Fast food -- Western food habits -- are taking over. They now fillet their fish and get most of the bones out.
I mentioned we were interested in the foods made to look like something else (a chicken skin stuffed with vegetables, for example). She said, oh yes, that's done for vegetarian dishes. We got to talking about tofu, and she said it was wonderful the shapes they could form it into. You'd never know it wasn't a chicken leg or fish. The server said they're so beautiful you don't want to eat them.
Add your own comments here, or on our Facebook group page.
But this is a review of The Last Chinese Chef, by Nicole Mones, not a restaurant review. The book engendered good discussion, despite what I thought was flat writing and a predictable plot. The first failing is ironic, given the main character's job as a magazine writer her several notebooks full of Sam's cooking. Why do we only get one paragraph or so on their meal at that famous restaurant? Why don't I feel as though I'm smelling and tasting the food? Why don't I ever get a sense of place? I think it's because Mones' descriptive skills are sorely lacking, even though she herself has written for Gourmet magazine and won prizes for other novels.
As for the plot, Mones arouses no suspense over matters with which good writers usually have a field day: Will the child belong to Maggie's husband? Will she and Sam wind up together? Will he win the contest? At each turn there's a feeling of inevitability. You easily guess every answer correctly before the characters arrive at their revelation, or at least sense they won't be too terribly affected by negative outcomes. Maybe this is another post-modern novel. It contains no commitment, no passion, no drama. Okay, Sam is passionate about food (or at least we're told he is) and Maggie mourns her husband's loss, but do we feel it?
Nevertheless, the book raises interesting topics: about the place of food in our lives, our relationships with family, how to handle grief, feelings of belonging, etc. We enjoyed comparing what we learn of Chinese society and culture to our own. Discussion questions provided with the book club kit from the GR library system helped. Could we really spend as much time on food preparation as the Chinese do? (Is it possible all Chinese cook this way?) What are the merits of living to eat as opposed to eating to live? Is it an American (Western) trait to want to care for a child from another culture, even if that child is the product of an unfaithful spouse's relationship? Chinese manners for handling business seem inscrutible, but to what extent do Americans hide reality?
Post script: I returned to China Chef the next day for Egg Fu Yong (hubby feeling Chinese food-deprived), and had a chat about the book with the owner Melissa Tran and one of her servers. She described how in China chicken and fish would always be cooked and served whole, bones and all. Chinese are adept at taking a bite and feeling carefully for bones. This way, they take full advantage of the calcium provided. For this reason, Chinese are very strong, she said. Or at least they have been. Fast food -- Western food habits -- are taking over. They now fillet their fish and get most of the bones out.
I mentioned we were interested in the foods made to look like something else (a chicken skin stuffed with vegetables, for example). She said, oh yes, that's done for vegetarian dishes. We got to talking about tofu, and she said it was wonderful the shapes they could form it into. You'd never know it wasn't a chicken leg or fish. The server said they're so beautiful you don't want to eat them.
Add your own comments here, or on our Facebook group page.
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