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The wondrous Aimee Bender conjures the lush and moving story of a girl whose magical gift is really a devastating curse. On the eve of her ninth birthday, unassuming Rose Edelstein, a girl at the periphery of schoolyard games and her distracted parents' attention, bites into her mother's homemade lemon-chocolate cake and discovers she has a magical gift: she can taste her mother's emotions in the cake. She discovers this gift to her horror, for her mother--her cheerful, good-with-crafts, can-do mother--tastes of despair and desperation. Suddenly, and for the rest of her life, food becomes a peril and a threat to Rose. The curse her gift has bestowed is the secret knowledge all families keep hidden--her mother's life outside the home, her father's detachment, her brother's clash with the world. Yet as Rose grows up she learns to harness her gift and becomes aware that there are secrets even her taste buds cannot discern. The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake is a luminous tale about the enormous difficulty of loving someone fully when you know too much about them. It is heartbreaking and funny, wise and sad, and confirms Aimee Bender's place as "a writer who makes you grateful for the very existence of language" (San Francisco Chronicle).… (more)
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The story of Rose a young girl who on her ninth birthday discovers she is cursed with the ability to taste feelings in the food she eats sounded intriguing. Instead I was treated to description after description of food that tasted gummy and thick or dry and chalky. The characters in this story are all strange, detached, and quite incomplete. From Rose herself to the rest of her emotionally unstable family, we are always just given small insights, never the bigger picture. So, her mother is sad and empty. Her father a dull blockhead. They both prefer to pretend a normalcy that doesn’t exist in this family. Rose’s brother Joseph who obviously is autistic, was again, I felt an incomplete character.
I believe the author is capable of much, much more. There were glimmers of good, descriptive writing here and there, but on the whole I felt she lacked direction. From her deliberate mispunctuation one gathers the author was trying to be innovative, but again, for me this didn’t work. I also felt the author wasn’t definite about whose story she was telling. The book starts with the focus on Rose but halfway through attention switches to her strange brother. Neither character was developed fully.
Perhaps it was me, but I finished the book feeling like I totally missed the whole point and I would recommend that this book gets a miss.
Review: I will put up with a lot for a book with a good premise, and this one had a great one. It's sort of the anti-Like Water for Chocolate; instead of one girl sending messages through food to everyone else, it's one girl receiving all of the messages that everyone else didn't even know they were sending. For that reason, it's not really a book for foodies: for Rose, the experience of food is a curse, not a blessing, and reading this book was enough to kill my appetite for a while (which is problematic, considering I normally do a lot of good reading over meals.) A quote on the first page of the ARC suggests that this book is the antidote to a bad day or a bad year, but I had the complete opposite reaction: the idea of one girl being a receptacle for so much pain and dysfunction and so many secrets, and completely unable to avoid it... that was more than a little bit of a downer. I mean, sadness in a book is fine, and this story definitely earns its weight, but it is not the cute and light book promised by the bright colors of the cover.
The writing itself was full and lovely, not heavy, but still full of the flavors and emotions that make up the story, to the point where you can almost imagine what a cake full of sadness would taste like. The prose was smooth enough that I was (almost) able to overlook the complete lack of quotation marks, which normally drives me absolutely bonkers. It did make some of the conversations hard to follow, though. (For example, does the sentence Yes, he's here, she said, finally. mean She said: "Yes, he's here, finally." or She finally said: "Yes, he's here."?)
However, despite the book's fantastic premise and lovely prose, it felt like there was a piece missing from the story. I can't put my finger quite on what that missing element was, but it's definitely there, just like the hole in the middle of Amy's chocolate lemon cake. I think part of it might be that the book gets really strange in the middle, which left me hoping that we'd get a good explanation for things, but the resolution, when it comes, wasn't really much of a resolution at all. The story attempts to wrap things up, but the end is not nearly as rich and as round as the beginning, and it makes the whole thing feel a little off-balance, and not quite as satisfying as I'd been hoping.
As a final thought, I absolutely love lemon desserts, and was going to make a lemon cake to go along with this review, but now I'm worried that it's going to taste like sadness and emptiness. If it turns out that this book has ruined lemon cake for me forever, I will have to come back and rethink my rating. Hrmph. 3.5 out of 5 stars.
Recommendation: I think fans of literary fiction who are willing to deal with a little bit of magical-realism weirdness in their novels will probably have the best time with this book.
Bender's pacing in this book is fantastic. The push and pull are tangible, and it turns reading into what it should be: an all-absorbing affair. With that being said, there were a few brief moments where she suddenly jumps into the past, and it takes a moment or two for me to realize what had just happened. All of these scenes are relevant, of course, but the shift is still abrupt, even for the start of a new chapter. The lead-up to the explanation behind Joe's disappearances was well-played, and the ultimate revelation is reasonable, but it lacks the impact that it could have had due to the suddenness of its delivery.
I find myself torn in how I feel about the writing style. On the one hand, it is simplistic, and it matched very well with the mentality of a youngster. Even so, the "he said/she said" method was overly grating in some sequences, where a greater variety of verb would have been greatly valued. The story ends when Rose is in her twenties, and while there is much to be said for consistency in an author's writing, the change dispatched my assumptions regarding her word choices. The lack of quotation marks was also disorienting, as I couldn't tell sometimes whether I was reading first person narrative or dialogue.
In short, this book was a worthwhile read with a few flaws. Even now, I feel emotionally wrung out, which says a great deal for the impact that the author made with her tale. If one can work one's way past the stylistic ticks and unclear designations for speech, one will find an enjoyable story to while away a few hours.
I kept reading this hoping it would expand into something I could understand, or latch onto. Instead, it simply got more weird, and more boring. I just could not find anything to like or to interest me in any of these characters. And there was no plot to speak of, so I decided not to waste any more time. I read 150 of the 295 pages. Enough.
The problem that I had with this story was that, despite the element of magical realism, the book was dull. The characters' lives were so ordinary and
I thought the idea for the book was interesting, but the execution simply wasn't there. By the end of the book, I felt as empty and disappointed as Rose did whenever she ate.
Usually I'm not very interested in the books that we read in my book group, but the most recent pick moved me tremendously. It had lots of things I like: a child viewpoint character (at least to start with; she's 22 by the end), characters who are all sympathetic in
The novel is The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake, by Aimee Bender. It was sad, yes, but in a good way.
The main character, Rose, can tell the emotional state of everyone connected with the production of whatever food she's eating. This isn't just a matter of biting into the casserole your mother slams down on the table and saying, Deanna Troi-like, "I sense anger!" It's more complete and nuanced than that:
It was a homemade ham-and-cheese-and-mustard sandwich, on white bread, with a thin piece of lettuce in the middle. Not bad, in the food part. Good ham, flat mustard from a functional factory. Ordinary bread. Tired lettuce-pickers. But in the sandwich as a whole, I tasted a kind of yelling, almost. Like the sandwich itself was yelling at me, yelling love me, love me, really loud. The guy at the counter watched me closely.
Oh, I said.
My girlfriend made it, he said.
Your girlfriend makes your sandwiches? asked George.
She likes doing it, said the guy.
I didn't know what to say. I put the sandwich down.
What? said the guy.
The sandwich wants you to love it, I said.
The guy started laughing. My voice, though, was dull. George reached over and took a bite. Is that ham? he said.
The sandwich? asked the guy.
Was yelling at me, I said, closing my eyes. It was yelling at me to love it.
--Aimee Bender, The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake (New York: Doubleday, 2010), 65.
I know a lot of people get annoyed at the trope in genre fiction of the reluctant superhero, who doesn't want her powers. But in this case, what the power represents is intense empathy, empathy with individual people, and by extension, maybe, with the human condition? And I imagine that really could be overwhelming. Rose finds different ways of coping with her gift, but other members of her family, who have gifts of their own, have a harder time of it. She reflects on this near the end of the book:
And just as he said it, like a bird across the sky, my brother flickered through my mind, and although the thought was half formed, it occurred to me that meals were still meals ... and I could pick and chose what I could eat and what I couldn't ... but what if whatever Joseph had felt every day had no shape like that? Had no way to be avoided or modified? Was constant? (266)
The way her brother copes is extreme, surreal, and ultimate, and Rose's way of accepting it seems, to me, to show that deep deep love I was mentioning. Some people are hard to love, but we can still love them, and some things are sad, but we can find a way to bear them.
And the book shows all that, and manages to be not at all as ponderous as this LJ entry. It's actually quite funny in places--and so perceptive about people, and how they behave.
I was really moved and impressed. Book group books, every now and then you're all right.
Somewhere between the magical fantasy of Sarah Addison Allen, and the magical sadness of Alice Hoffman, is Aimee Bender’s magical book. A book about Rose, a girl who discovers, unexpectedly and unwanted, her ability to
We move with Rose as she learns of her talent, of her family’s secrets, and of the world surrounding her. She’s not a normal girl, she’s very much alone. She has friends, but she’s the one on the edge of the group, the one who could be there or not, and not many people would notice the difference. We are with her as she desperately tries to form a connection with her brother Joseph. But Joseph is also a loner, with only one friend, and he’s full of books and angst and something unexplained.
The books transitions frequently, starting with Rose’s difficult younger years trying to find food she can eat that won’t make her sick with depression or anger. We go through the years of issues with her parents, her father stoic, her mother yearning. We spend much time with Joseph and his story becomes so overwhelmingly sad it makes my heart hurt. We grow with Rose, and find her older as she discovers a path she can take toward a future that will make her happy. A path she tremulously sets out on, an experiment of self.
This is not a story with a beginning-middle-end type of plot. There is a beginning, and then the beginning just keeps on being. Every part has a newness to it, an unfounded, unexplored, beautifully untouched set of words that pulls you in and takes you. Like food to Rose, this book leaves me with an unexplained lingering of sadness. Light and innocent sadness. Sadness for no reason, but beautiful and untouchable.
Words like “amazing” and “fabulous” are too patronizingly cliché for The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake. At all times charmingly funny and tragic, it just is what it is; something you should read, something that starts out different and takes a bit of getting used to, and then finishes like a ghost of words, whispered away on a breeze, leaving you wondering.
It's a really inventive premise, one that works very
I think there's a number of reasons for that. For one, I spent far too much time unsure whether this story was taking place in the 1950s or the 2010s or sometime in-between, until a passing reference to computers several chapters in nailed it down at one end, and the realization halfway through that nobody had a cell phone nailed it down in the other. The sense of place -- it's set in LA -- is better, but even so, there's a sort of vagueness to the whole thing, a lack of any real specifics to ground it all. More problematically, I think that's also to some extent true of the characters. Bender tries to give them all individual quirks and histories, but, ultimately, they mostly still felt to me more like collections of generic character traits than people: the distant father, the unfulfilled mother, the introverted brother. Despite the main character's perceptive abilities, I never felt like I was seeing deeply into any of these people. Maybe that was meant to be part of the point, I don't know, but it was just never quite satisfying.
The lyrical beauty of many of Ms Bender's phrases struck me like a feather. I read them once, then again, then again. I reveled in their
Just a few examples:
When Rose describes her father's lack of knowledge about children, she writes, "We grew tall on our own without proof." (22)
After tasting the emotions of the many people involved in the making of the school cafeteria's lunch, she "put my head on the desk. I didn't intend to do it; it was like someone had attached a magnet to my forehead and then tucked another inside my notebook. That was where my head had to go." (27)
[this one's my favorite] - "I could feel the tears beginning to collect in my throat again, but I pushed them apart . . . Tears are only a threat in groups." (29)
Rose's "special skill" of tasting the emotions of the cook cause her great distress and dismay and as she describes that feeling her mother's hidden emotions, it was " . . . like reading her diary against my will" she cannot prevent herself from feeling those feelings that others do not acknowledge.
That feeling of invading people's private worlds permeates Rose's life. It takes her years to get used to or at least live with but she does learn to accept herself and her special skill. She finds her own peace inside the havoc of others' emotions.
Joseph's special skill is harder to wrap my head around. I found myself rereading passages about him and not quite getting what the author intended. However, that did not stop me from caring about Joseph. As Rose is confused, so am I. I decided that was the point and let him be.
I have recommended this book to many people already, even before I completed the first read through. I fell so in love with her use of language that I have added Ms. Bender;s other writings to my list of reading.
I found this fascinating and not a little heartbreaking. Rose's family is one in quiet trouble, as her mother pretends to be happy and content on the outside, but funnels her hidden depression into projects (and, eventually, an affair). Rose's father, an matter-of-fact, organized lawyer(? I actually got a clear idea of what he did for a living) is very contained with a secret of his own, and Rose's brother: well. Possibly autistic, definitely lacking in social skills, his bright mind and emotionally blank face is the star around which Rose's mother orbits to the detriment of everyone else in the family. And smack dab in the midst of this family is Rose, a young woman
This is a coming of age tale, and basically the story of a very empathetic little girl and her brother, who withdraws from the family, but given a surreal and almost supernatural edge that lets us explore the situation with more interest than usual. The whole family is peculiar (as families tend to be in fiction, and sometimes in real life) but here it's an inherited sense that we can understand but never fully share. Sometimes the language becomes too pretentious and flowery, but other times it settles into a clarity that really suits the complexity of what it's trying to express.
I ended up enjoying the book a lot, particularly the scene where Rose finally eats her own cooking. Altogether it was beautiful and sad and hopeful. I can see why some people would find it over the top, but I liked the balance of the mundane with the strange, and I thought it worked.
This melancholic novel seems to inspire reviews from both ends of the spectrum, love it and hate it. I didn't love it but I liked it fine up until the end, at which point I wanted to throw it across the room. So I guess my reaction encompasses both reactions all in one. I guess I can only stretch credulity so far before I snap and the resolution with Rose's brother Joseph took me one step too far. The tone of the book was definitely depressing and the characters practiced avoidance far more frequently than they made any meaningful connection with each other. And only Rose, when she could bring herself to eat their food, could tell at all what was in each person's heart and head. The constant strivings of quiet desperation could be a tad overwhelming at times, the pacing of the book was uneven, and the plot was a bit thin. Overall, given my final impression, I was disappointed but there is definitely much food for thought included here amongst the dysfunction.
This was the right time for me to read this book. Life is a bit frenzied right now, so my brain is in too high a gear for too much of the day. Along comes Aimee Bender to
Rosie, the book's narrator, has a complicated problem. The book is told in her voice, and I enjoyed her a lot. I also enjoyed the rest of her family: complex people, all caught up in problems of their own. Joseph was the most astounding. While Rose tells the story, really, I think this book is about Joseph. We don't get solid confirmation on what is up with Joseph, but we get enough to foster intrigue.
So. Good book. I've read a set of her short stories, Willful Creatures, and I'll be picking up more of her writings soon.
Published by Doubleday
ISBN 978-0-385-50112-5
At the request of Doubleday, a HC was sent, at no cost to me, for my honest opinion.
Synopsis (from book's jacket): On the eve of her ninth birthday, unassuming Rose Edelstein, a girl at the periphery of
She discovers this gift to her horror, for her mother-her cheerful, good-with-crafts, can-do mother-tastes of despair and desperation. Suddenly, and for the rest of her life, food becomes a peril and a threat to Rose. Anything can be revealed at any meal. She can't eat her brother Joseph's toast, a cookie tat the local bakery is laced with rage, grape jelly is packed with acidic resentment.
Rose's gift forces her to confront the secret knowledge all families keep hidden-truths about her mother's life outside the home, her father's strange detachment, Joseph's clash with the world.
Yet as Rose grows up she realizes there are some secrets that even her taste buds cannot discern.
My Thoughts and Opinion: Before I started reading this book, I had read reviews from one end of the spectrum to the other. I went into it with an open mind and high hopes that I would enjoy it. Instead, I found myself not wanting to pick it up and continue reading. I thought it was me and I was experiencing a reading slump. But I forced myself to contine reading and it wasn't a slump, it was the book. The following is my opinion and my opinion only. Others may disagree. I had read 100+ pages and can honestly say, I did not like anything about the book, the premise of the story line, the author's writing style nor the characters. In all my years of reading, I have never seen this type of writing, there was not one quotation mark in the 100+ pages I read and it was elementary at best. I try to find at least some positive aspects of a novel, even those that I simply can't push through, but couldn't with this one. I had to put this book aside and move on.
My Rating: 1
There are two things that are most important for my high rating of this novel. First, Bender does an amazing job of
It’s also an amazing experience to read this novel. I said it’s poetic, because after finishing, I felt the way I do after reading a wonderful poem for the first time: that sense of light, and open-ness; of discovery and wonder. The writing is beautiful: precise and accurate, with sudden stabbingly sharp insights. I gobbled up Lemon Cake as fast as I could, and I can’t wait for the Aimee Bender’s next recipe.