Short, hilarious, and puzzling. This book has a somewhat elegant, somewhat maddening tendency to speak on a subject without actually addressing the subject. We don’t really know why she lives in Dijon or Switzerland (she just does). We don’t know why she gets divorced from Al or where this new husband, Chexbres, comes from (but they’re madly in love). Unless you’ve read the Wikipedia page, you don’t know Chexbres kills himself, nor do you know that her brother does the same (and yet her grief for both is palpable). Strangely, these omissions don’t harm the narrative. Instead, Fisher measures the story of her growth in relation to the world around her — how she manages to bend the world to her tastes, and, when that proves impossible, how she finds suitable compromises. These vignettes capture an adventurous soul figuring out how to thrive, love, and navigate the world against the rigid constraints placed on her as a woman of the time.
One of my favorites. Really nice review. But you don't mention the best thing (imo) about it: the food writing, and how it exults without descending into food-porniness. That meal she has at the random auberge, late in the book I think... holy shit!
Yes, so good!! I mostly avoided the food stuff because I didn’t want to sell it short! The endless terrines and market visits and bottles of wine tickle my brain in a way I can’t describe. I read this in sequence with a bunch of Ruth Reichl and Julia Child. The way they all write about food and hospitality makes me feel so…alive?!