This month our fun linking of books, as hosted by Kate at Books Are My Favourite and Best, starts with a cookbook, so I have to admit I was a bit stumped. Not that I don’t like cooking, but for me they are entirely separate books from the ones I read. I keep them in the kitchen rather than on normal bookshelves, for example.
I don’t think I ever used the book The Naked Chef by Jamie Oliver but I did quite enjoy the TV programme when it first came out, although his cheeky chappy persona did get a bit annoying after a while. Nevertheless, he did a good job warning people about the rubbish children are given in school meals. Unfortunately, it seems that even those rubbish meals have become unaffordable for most families.
For the first book in the chain I will pick one that sounds like a cookery book that might have been written by Jamie Oliver, and includes the word ‘naked’ in the title: Naked Lunch by William S. Burroughs. It is, however, anything but healthy, describing various scenes from the life of a drug addict in various places around the world. A book best taken in moderation, in small bites.
Another book that I feel I can only handle by diving in occasionally and reading short passages is Sleepless Nights by Elizabeth Hardwick. A series of memories and personal stories polished until they become fiction, no clear chronology or story arc, yet full of sparkling gems on nearly every page.
‘Night’ provides the link to the next book, one I haven’t read yet but which sounds a bit like The Books of Jacob. It hasn’t been translated into English, but its title would be St Andrew’s Night by Moldavian writer Ion Vicol. St Andrew preached in Scythia and along the Black Sea Coast, in what is now Romania, Moldova and Ukraine, before heading south to Greece, and, in this novel at least, the author portrays him as playing a not insignificant part in the battles between the Romans and the Dacians.
The Feast of St Andrew on 30th November is also the National Day for Scotland, so I will turn to a Scottish writer and a piece of Scottish history for my next link, namely Denise Mina’s Rizzio, a fictional retelling of the brutal murder of Mary Queen of Scots’ Italian secretary in 1566.
Friedrich Schiller’s Maria Stuart looks at the final days of the imprisoned queen and features a dramatic meeting between the two queens, Mary and Elizabeth, that in reality never took place.
My final book is actually a play about a meeting that did take place, but which has remained somewhat mysterious to historians, namely Copenhagen by Michael Frayn. It is based on the meeting in September 1941 in that city between German physicist Heisenberg and Danish physicist Niels Bohr, a highly charged discussion of the use of nuclear weapons and the personal responsibility of scientists.
As usual, quite a wander through geography and history in this latest instalment of Six Degrees: from America, Mexico, Tangier and most of Europe, to Scythia, Scotland and England (Fotheringay Castle), and finally Copenhagen. Where will your literary meanders take you?
Restrictions might be easing here in the UK, but my confidence in this government is so ‘high’ that I prefer to watch and wait, rather than rush out to enjoy museums and theatres, although I have missed them very much indeed. So the summary this month continues to be of books, films and TV series, with a handful of online literary events too.
May’s reading was going to be dedicated to Arabic literature, and in particular books from Egypt and Lebanon. Alas, only four of the ten books I read fulfilled that criteria, but I really enjoyed all of them. There was a historical view of Cairo and a very contemporary one. The Civil War in Lebanon and its aftermath were treated in equally poignant fashion but very different styles by Elias Khoury and Hoda Barakat.
The other book I had on my May reading plan because I’d been asked to review it was The Wife Who Wasn’t, a rollicking saga of East Meets West.
However, all the other books were examples of me giving in to temptation once the libraries reopened for browsing. I always enjoy Nicola Upson‘s crime series featuring the author Josephine Tey and this latest one is set on St Michael’s Mount at Christmas (I still have to visit both the English and the French version of this location). I read Flynn Berry‘s first book and liked it well enough to have a look at her second one A Double Life, which is one of those ‘what if’ stories about the Lord Lucan case and how his daughter might feel about the whole situation. Steph Cha‘s Follow Her Home is a very deliberate Chandleresque recreation of LA, albeit set in the present-day and with a mighty Korean-American female main protagonist.
I usually avoid books with all the buzz, and certainly Luster by Raven Leilani has been receiving a lot of that, having been shortlisted for both the Women’s Prize for Fiction and the Dylan Thomas Prize in the UK and has won several awards in the author’s home country the United States. Also, I wasn’t sure I could bear yet another so-called millenial novel about damaged, self-destructive young women and their unsatisfactory relationships with men (or men and women). But there it was beckoning to me on top of a book display at the library. After a fireworks of a start, which made me gasp and admire nearly every sentence, I thought it lost its way a little in the middle. It’s about a vulnerable young woman who might have a sharp wit when she talks directly to the reader, but nevertheless never quite loses her desire to be seen, touched and loved. Nevertheless, I found it less cold and manipulative than Sally Rooney’s Conversation with Friends (no, I haven’t read Normal People), funnier than Naoise Dolan’s Exciting Times and more consistent and fierce than The Other Black Girl by Zakiya Dalila Harris. So, if you liked any of those, you are almost certain to like this one, which I feel is better than all three. There are parallels with Fleabag, but this is a Fleabag with the burden of race and no safety net of a rich family to fall back on. Perhaps Michaela Coel’s I Will Destroy You comes closest to capturing that flawed, but very striking and unique narrative voice.
Here is a description of publisher’s tickbox exercise of providing diverse reading, which made me roar with laughter:
… a slave narrative about a mixed-race house girl fighting for a piece of her father’s estate; a slave narrative about a runaway’s friendship with the white schoolteacher who selflessly teaches her how to read; a slave narrative about a tragic mulatto who raises the dead with her magic chitlin pies; a domestic drama about a black maid who, like Schrödinger’s cat, is both alive and dead, an unseen, nurturing presence who exists only within the bounds of her employer’s four walls; an ‘urban’ romance wherever everybody dies by gang violence; and a book about a Cantonese restaurant, which may or may not have been written by a white woman from Utah, whose descriptions of her characters rely primarily on rice-based foods.
The most memorable book I read this month was probably The Memory Police by Yoko Ogawa (which I nicked off my younger son’s shelf), but I also finally got to review one of my favourites from last month, namely Polly Barton‘s Fifty Sounds, about which I could have written a super-long essay. And I also reread and reviewed To the Lighthouse, which was just wondrous. As a way to forget what a chore daily cooking has become since the first lockdown, I also wrote a post about my favourite cookery books.
I’ll be embarking on the 20 Books of Summer for the next three months, and I have to admit I’m already tempted to make some drastic changes to my original plan. For example, would it not be more helpful to publishers posting their books on Netgalley if I actually read and reviewed the most recent ones, rather than the oldest ones? So I might dedicate June to the most recent, then July to my oldest and leave August for Women in Translation (admittedly, four-five of my Women in Translation choices are very recent ones anyway). The most recent list includes Mieko Kawakami (also featured in the August list), so I might swap her out for someone else in June, but a choice of ten to choose 6-7 from might look like this:
Films and TV
I seem to have found my film-watching mojo again. I’ve watched nine films and one TV mini-series this month, a mix of film classics and sheer escapism.
Andrei Rublev: yes, it can take a while to get to the point, but it’s still a visually stunning and inventive commentary on the role of the artist
Hunger: a visceral experience of a slice of recent history that I knew all too little about, although I had heard, of course, of Bobby Sands
When Harry Met Sally: loved it when I was young, have become a curmudgeon who no longer trusts the love story, even if it has its witty moments
Animal Farm: not just about the Soviet system – remains as relevant as the day it was made (and Boxer’s fate will forever make me cry)
Sweet Bean: charming but also thoughtful film about how we treat outsiders – perhaps veers a little into the sentimental
Touchez pas au Grisbi: now I see where Jean-Pierre Melville and Scorsese got their inspiration from – a worldweary performative tour de force from Jean Gabin, aging gangsters treating women badly, but with a hostage/loot exchange scene which almost made me forget to breathe
The Chess Players: The country’s burning and these two men are playing chess – a powerful indictment of both local lords and kings, as well as the British rule in India
The Chalet (French TV series): filmed in Rhone-Alpes, around Chamonix and Annecy, so obviously a winner in my heart, this was essentially a slasher-movie over 6 episodes, full of good-looking young people and grumpy older or depressed older people.
Rocco and His Brothers: Who can resist a young Alain Delon in this story of migration, urbanisation and brotherly rivalry?
The Boys from Fengkuei: Taiwanese film about a bunch of rather roguish young men moving to the city, very similar in content and form to Rocco and His Brothers (they actually watch this very film in the cinema at one point)
After a rather quiet start to the year, May has been a very busy (and expensive) month, full of events and courses (and appliances and dentists). Here is what I did in chronological order:
International Booker Prize: The Shortlisted Translators in Conversation – so fascinating to hear translators talk about the challenges of translating their very different books – especially enjoyed Sasha Dugdale talking about how nervous she felt about translating prose, because she usually translates poetry (I think most people feel it’s harder the other way round)
Produce an irresistible plot in a weekend with Shelley Weiner, Guardian Masterclasses – such an encouraging tutor, and lots of exciting ideas to stimulate the creative juices
Poet’s Cafe – took part in the open mic session, as well as heard Oliver Comins read from his poems old and new
Marlen Haushofer in Context, Institute of Modern Languages Research, SAS – only managed to attend one session, comparing The Wall with Seethaler’s A Whole Life, but I caught up with some of the recorded sessions afterwards
Reading in Translation Conference, University College Cork – again, only managed to listen to one session, the book bloggers, but will catch up with recordings
Olivier Norek and Joseph Knox in conversation with Ayo Onatade about noir fiction, at the French Institute in London, with bilingual readings from their novels
Raven Leilani – Hay Festival – such a thoughtful, articulate and gentle young woman, very impressive and very different from Edie in the novel. I thought it was itneresting that she said she was almost envious of Edie’s freedom, her giving herself entirely over to her impulses (her Id), even though it’s an extremely costly way of going about things. Leilani’s style is so clever, precise and rich, at the level of each sentence and paragraph, that I was curious how many drafts she writes to get that depth. It turns out she cannot move on until she has untangled every sentence, rewriting it at least three or four times, so she is a slow writer (and wishes she could be different).
Deborah Levy – Hay Festival – I’ve loved the previous two books in her ‘living autobiography’ trilogy and her third one Real Estate sounds just my cup of tea, especially when she talked about all the ‘unreal estate’ that live in our heads, all the houses we imagine we could be happy in, the future state that we can never achieve. She also talked about how she learnt to live with ambiguity and contradictory thoughts, and that the whole idea behind the trilogy was about figuring out why an ordinary life is worth examining and writing about.
Caleb Azumah Nelson – Hay Festival – I’ve got his debut novel Open Water on my TBR list (possibly for my June Netgalley binge) and am even more eager to read it after hearing him talk so modestly and passionately about writing from his emotions and being willing to make himself vulnerable (and how south-east London is where his world begins and ends).
Writing and translation
It has been quite an expensive month in terms of submissions to literary magazines and competitions. Not just poems and flash fiction, but I also finally got my act together and sent off the opening chapters and a synopsis of my Romania novel (as opposed to my Switzerland novel). I was also delighted to be accepted onto the BCLT Summer School and can only afford it because it’s virtual this year. I’ll be attending the Multilingual Drama section and am planning to go with Mihail Sebastian’s play The Holiday Game, which I mentioned last month.
I quite enjoy cooking and trying out cuisines from many different countries, so obviously I have a bit of a cookery book collection. However, when you have children, at first fussy, then constantly hungry, your plans for sophisticated cooking go out the window and you end up providing the same stalwart reliable and quick crowd-pleasers over and over again.
There are some books that have stood the test of time, however, as well as recent favourites which I can foresee will become my go-to cooking bibles. Like all UK-based people, I have enjoyed Delia, Nigella and Nigel Slater, but I only occasionally use their recipes. I have not gone down the Mary Berry and Yotam Ottolenghi route. I tend to prefer something more filling and simpler to source, without having to hunt out the ingredients in five different shopping sessions at Waitrose or specialist stores. I have been lucky enough to grow up with a solid mix of Viennese, Romanian and French cooking in my childhood. As a student I learnt Japanese, Italian and Chinese cooking – from friends rather than from a cookery book, so I don’t actually own reliable recipe books from those countries. Later, I learnt Greek and Lebanese cooking from family and friends – a limited number of recipes, but still among my favourites.
However, what you see above are the books that I find myself picking up most frequently. Tessa Kiros is a global citizen like myself (Finnish mother, Greek Cypriot father, grew up in Australia), and her cooking reflects this mixed heritage. Her Apples for Jam contained many recipes which even my super-fussy youngsters enjoyed at the age of 4-5.
My major regret, food-wise, is that I did not sit down with my aunt, who was a fantastic cook, and write down all her recipes. However, I can compensate for that somewhat with my most recent acquisition: Carpathia by Irina Georgescu – This is a book I have bought for many of my friends, as it contains a lot of cultural detail as well as Romanian recipes for an English audience. It also has slightly more detail about exact quantities than the book lying open in the picture below, which is my well-worn, by now coverless copy of the classic of Romanian cookery books, Sanda Marin, first published in 1936 and never out of print since (although with considerable modifications during the Communist period, to disguise the fact that many of the ingredients were unavailable or restricted). The four volumes you see to the far right of the picture is a box set a schoolfriend living in France sent me between my first and second move to France (knowing that I missed the area very much). It has a recipe for every single day of the year, divided according to season, and the produce available at the time, or special traditional recipes for Christmas, Easter and other holidays.
Another French book which I used at least once a week when I lived in France but not quite so often nowadays is Sophie’s Cakes – which are savoury or sweet cakes you can bake in a bread tray, once again grouped by season. Best party food – I made them whenever we were invited anywhere, as well as for events at school.
Since returning to the UK in 2016, however, what with working in London, long commutes, rapidly growing teenagers and financial struggles, cooking has become more of a challenge. So the three books below have been very welcome: Jack Monroe‘s down to earth recipes on a budget, plus the appeal of ‘just bung it in the oven’ of Rukmini Iyer‘s roasting tin recipes.
So what kind of cooking do you like to explore? Do you have any favourite recipe books or food writers? And has that changed over the course of the years?