I will admit that I was a bit torn over how best to rate this book, as I usually go into memoirs with an entirely different set of expectations than I do novels and it can be a “hit and miss” whether I’m actually able to connect with the author’s story or not. When I first started this book, I was really into it, especially the first few chapters, as I felt there was a good balance between musings about food and the history of various dishes that the author Ann Mah had tried during her time in France, and the culture clash with her background as a Chinese-American wife of a diplomat whose job requires them to move constantly from one country to another. The parts I enjoyed most were when Mah talked about her childhood as the daughter of immigrants growing up in the U.S. juxtaposed with her “fish out of water” experiences later on adjusting to a life of having to move to a new place every couple of years and having to learn its language, culture, cuisine, etc. each time. I found the segments where Mah describes her “adventures” traveling to different parts of France to learn about various dishes and their history quite interesting, engaging, and a bit whimsical too. With that said though, the tone of the book seemed to change after Mah’s husband Calvin left for Baghdad, where he was stationed for a year, with her having to remain behind in Paris until he returned (though he was able to fly back and visit her every couple of months). The tone seemed to shift to a more wistful one, where it felt like Mah’s spirits were permanently dampened by the long separation from her husband and nothing could lift them again until he returned. The second half of the memoir felt like it focused a little too much on Mah’s loneliness and how much she missed her husband, to the point that it seemed the earlier enthusiasm she had in discovering the whimsies and delights of a country (France) that she had been dreaming about living in since childhood, was no longer there. This ended up detracting from the story a bit, at least for me. The writing also didn’t flow as well as I would’ve liked, as some sections seemed to be all over the place chronologically – I would be reading about the history of a certain dish one minute, then it would jump to something unrelated, then go back to the dish that was the focus of that particular chapter. This made some of the chapters a little hard to follow, resulting in me having to re-read some parts in order to refocus my attention.
Despite the fact that I love to eat, I’m not much of a food connoisseur, so I don’t usually read a whole lot of food memoirs. Don’t get me wrong – I’m not opposed to reading them, but it’s not really a priority for me, especially in light of all the other books out there that I want to read. I decided to pick this one up because, aside from the fact that it was chosen for one of my book clubs this month, there’s also the shared cultural familiarity in terms of the author’s background (Chinese-American, daughter from immigrant family, grew up in the U.S., etc.) – but more than that though, I also have an interest in French culture and cuisine that stems from my school days (eons ago) when I had actually studied French for a number of years, even nearly majoring in it in college. For all these reasons, I was excited to read this and even though in the end, it didn’t quite live up to expectations, I still liked it well enough overall for me to feel that it was worth my time. In addition, I’m also interested in reading the 2 novels that Mah wrote, especially the one about Chinese cuisine, which she mentioned briefly in this book. Hopefully, it’s something I’ll be able to get to next year.
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