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Showing posts with label Brooklyn. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Brooklyn. Show all posts

Sunday, September 23, 2018

Can't We Talk About Something More Pleasant? by Roz Chast

Anyone who scoffs at the notion of reading a graphic novel simply hasn't read one. They are just as powerful and impactful as a book that's full of words, page after page. Roz Chast had me reliving some painful parental moments in her graphic novel, Can't We Talk About Something More Pleasant?

We all hope our parents live long lives, and that we have time to get to know them as people when we grow up and become adults ourselves. But as our parents age, and live longer than their parents and grandparents did, we're faced with increasing angst as parents who always were strong, independent, sharp, and ruled the household become frail and forgetful. 

Roz Chast outlines that very situation. For her, it's even more difficult, as she's an only child who doesn't live near her parents. And her parents are a handful. Elizabeth and George have been married for decades; her mother is a force, while her father is quiet. They do everything together. They've lived in the same apartment in Brooklyn since Roz was a baby. And neither of them want to talk about death, wills, money, or future care. Their routine is set in stone and they don't like change. 

There were times when I felt like I was reliving some of the same conversations I had with my Mom when I was reading this memoir. And it's always one significant medical issue that is the start of the end, and you know it when it happens. The end can be years away, but you're aware of that one specific moment when you realize it's the beginning of the end. Roz's memoir is full of that tug of war between parent and child as their mental acuity declines, and is replaced with anger and bewilderment. Faced with cleaning out her parents' apartment, Roz is just overwhelmed, and realizes that most of it is just junk. What her parents refused to throw away, and what they thought valuable, was only valuable to them, and now they don't need it or even remember they have it. I can say going through your parent's lifetime (and your family's lifetime) of things is both frustrating and heartbreaking. It adds a permanent bit of sadness to your soul. 

Roz's relationship with her mother is a strained one, and there is one moment where she says:

I left her room. Walked through the tasteful lobby of the Place as if everything was fine. Walked to my car. When I got in, I cried. The bellowing quality of the sobbing and the depth of the sadness I felt surprised me. I was angry, too. Why hadn't she tried harder to know me? 
But I knew: if there had ever been a time in my relationship with my mother for us to get to know one another--and that's a very big "if"--that time had long passed.

**Cue the ugly cry**

I found this graphic novel to be powerful and poignant. Roz mixes in photos of her parents, along with some of her mother's poems. I'd recommend it to anyone who has aging parents, or has already gone through this process and feels they were all alone and feeling the frustrations and sadness that no one else would understand. There are plenty out there who do understand. 

Rating: 5/6 for an accurate portrayal of caring for aging parents, and the struggles both emotionally and financially that adult children face--without the guidance of those we look to the most-our parents. Don't be put off because it's a graphic novel. That's what makes it a powerful memoir. Read it. 

Available in hardcover and paperback. This was a National Book Award Finalist. That's a pretty amazing accomplishment. 



Monday, November 13, 2017

Give a Girl a Knife by Amy Thielen

This memoir had been on my TBR list for quite some time, but I had to be patient and wait my turn at the library.  I had watched Amy's cooking show, Heartland Table on the Food Network years ago, and was intrigued by her kitchen. It looked small, rustic, and not fancy at all.  No high end, shiny, expensive kitchen gadgets; no gleaming countertops. I liked the way she talked about food, and how she used her garden and what she could find at her local grocery store to make amazing meals.  Her Midwest nature appealed to this Midwest woman.  

So with that in mind, I started to read her memoir.  It took me many days (okay, weeks) to get through this memoir, and I'm puzzled as to why.  Amy writes beautifully; if she hadn't made it as a cook, she would find her niche in writing.  Her descriptions of food make your mouth water; her fondness for the food of her Minnesota youth spars with her awakened palate for fine food.  

Amy's story begins in Minnesota, and ends there.  But in between, Amy and her boyfriend, artist Aaron Spangler move to Brooklyn and live there off and on for years.  Aaron is working on his art and Amy attends cooking school, then bounces around some of the most famous restaurants in New York City, learning from the best.  What I found refreshing about Amy is that she was not interested in moving up the ranks to someday be top chef, or even run her own restaurant in New York City.  For her, it was all about learning the skills, and exploring flavors.  Amy and Aaron would sometimes leave Brooklyn and return to Minnesota to spend the summer in Aaron's rustic (no running water, no electricity) little home out in the wilds of Minnesota.  There they would plant a huge vegetable garden, harvest wild rice out of their front yard, and puzzle over their yearning to be home, yet at the same time resenting the pull of home. Two people who never thought they would return to Park Rapids, Minnesota, yet find themselves homesick for the flavors, the quiet, and the freedom from busy city life.  

Amy and Aaron get married, and continue to live in Brooklyn.  Her work as a cook demands 80 plus hours a week, and she's not making much money at all.  Aaron finally gets some well deserved attention for his art, and it looks like Brooklyn is finally paying off.  Until Aaron tells Amy he wants to move back to Minnesota and build a studio next to their rustic little home. Amy, who has been questioning her passion for the high stress world of New York haute cuisine, realizes that what she really wants is to be a home cook.  Armed with her skills and her new palate, she returns to Minnesota with Aaron and creates a life that happily continues to fulfill them both.

Amy's book is a bit different from other cooking memoirs I've read, mostly because of her attitude towards the cooking industry.  She started cooking school after college, and knew her strengths and weaknesses going into her various tenures at restaurants in New York City.  For her it wasn't about rising to the top, or making the big bucks.  She became obsessed with creating flavors, and it almost consumed her.  Her passion for cooking was overwhelming to read; sometimes I had to put the book down and take a break.  Part of me kept thinking, the customer doesn't care about all the heart and soul you put into that one dish! They just want something good to eat, and something worth the money they're spending. I almost felt bad for all the effort she put into dishes, knowing the recipients had no idea, and probably wouldn't have cared to know.  

I did enjoy this book, but it was a bit of an effort to read it.  It made me very aware of just how much food is a part of our memories, our childhood; how it alters the way we look at the world.  I recently had a birthday, and my boyfriend wanted to take me out to dinner.  I didn't want to go to a restaurant.  Instead, I made my favorite birthday dinner.  One that my Mom made for me almost every birthday I had in my youth:  scalloped potatoes and ham, followed by a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting.  I made it a little different than my Mom's recipe, but that special flavor was there, and it made me very happy to dive into a plate of creamy potatoes dotted with bits of ham and cheese.  For just a few minutes, I was back at home with Mom and Dad and my siblings, eating my favorite meal on a cold November night.  These memories are all the more precious now that my parents are gone. Food, more than anything else, keeps me connected to my very best memories of childhood. 

Rating:  4/6 for a savory, finger licking good memoir about food, home, and memories. Amy reminded me that food is more than just fuel for the body.  

Available in hardcover, ebook, and audio.