I'm not going to bullet point the book, but autobiographically it covers her early childhood, the fracturing of her family at that young age, her trials earning her stripes in the kitchen, at the bar, the numerous catering jobs and pushing though college. The relationships, the tenuous marriage to the father of her children, his Italian family and of course, food.
There are good and bad streaks in this book. The writing I found solid gold. She can paint pictures with ease and nails those situations that you can express only to yourself in the shower but couldn't do when the moment calls. Her detailing of food, the firing line frenzy of the kitchen, bucolic Italian countrysides and weathered French faces are memorable and vivid. She's a tough broad. She's a doer. A "Type A" killing machine that has learned, through childhood abandonment, to grab what she wants and hold it down by the neck. It's very admirable and you appreciate and understand how she not won, but built, victories.
On the other hand, because of this, she fails, to introspectively tweak herself as she gets older. It's as if she's always the abandoned teenage girl, damning the naysayers, and doing what she needs to do, which is the necessary fuel sometimes. But as one grows older, they usually learn to meld new found wisdom and perspective with that DIY attitude. The caustic arrows of other writers of the kitchen genre, like Anthony Bourdain, are wrapped in vitriol but the arrow is really still love. No matter who he talks shit about, it's a warm, winking, ball-busting. With Gabrielle, it's all heat. A chip. So as the book progresses you have a hard time staying on her team emotionally. She's lacking the love and warmth. Just mounds of respect. And that's not a bad place to be either.
If you like good writing and food, go for it. You might enjoy it.
that must be a very smart friend you have!
ReplyDeleteShe's alright.
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