I just finished Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell, and I know I'll be thinking about this one and puzzling over the many incredible elements of this story (maybe I should say "stories") for a long time. What an amazing read for the end of the first decade of the millenium.
I'd heard the name of the novel bandied about when it first came out in 2004, but never got around to it until just last week. As I've said before, some books just have their season, and Cloud Atlas seems to fit the eve of a new year perfectly.
I am going to cheat here, however, and link you to a review of the novel by the Guardian's Hephzibah Anderson because it captures what is important about the novel so well. I need to sit with it a while longer--this is a book that I'll dip into over and over again before I catch everything there is to catch. Excellent novel in every way.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Monday, December 21, 2009
The Inevitable End of the Year List 2009
Too Fond of Book's favorite reads from 2009, in no particular order, though this year I've informally divided it up by genre.
It was an odd year of reading for me. There several long slumps during which I hit the 50 page turnaround point with book after book and just couldn't finish anything. Then I hit several books that I read all the way through even though I highly disliked them--two of these were A Widow For One Year by John Irving and The Worst Thing I've Done by Ursula Hegi. The third was so bad I won't even give it its due by naming it here.
The wonderful Young Adult novels I came across in 2009 came to my rescue several times. I hope that you'll check them out...some of the most interesting and absorbing stories right now are being marketed for the YA crowd, and it would be a shame for adults to miss them because of that label.
Literary Fiction:
Dear American Airlines by Jonathan Miles
Sashenka by Simon Montefiore
Four Spirits by Sena Jeter Naslund
The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri (never got around to reviewing for TFB, but marvelous)
Fantasy/Imaginary Fiction:
The Little Book by Selden Edwards
Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke
Mystery/Crime Fiction:
When Will There Be Good News? by Kate Atkinson
Miss Smilla's Feeling for Snow by Peter Hoeg
Lush Life by Richard Price
Memoir/Biography/Non-fiction:
Sweet: An Eight-Ball Odyssey by Heather Byer
Max Perkins: Editor of Genius by A. Scott Berg
The Soul of a Chef: The Journey Toward Perfection by Michael Ruhlman
The Soloist: A Lost Dream, an Unlikely Friendship, and the Redemptive Power of Music by Steve Lopez (not yet reviewed on TFB)
Young Adult Fiction:
The Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Selznick
Slam by Nick Hornby
The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman
Lowboy by John Wray
And here is 2008's Inevitable End of the Year List, in case you're curious.
It was an odd year of reading for me. There several long slumps during which I hit the 50 page turnaround point with book after book and just couldn't finish anything. Then I hit several books that I read all the way through even though I highly disliked them--two of these were A Widow For One Year by John Irving and The Worst Thing I've Done by Ursula Hegi. The third was so bad I won't even give it its due by naming it here.
The wonderful Young Adult novels I came across in 2009 came to my rescue several times. I hope that you'll check them out...some of the most interesting and absorbing stories right now are being marketed for the YA crowd, and it would be a shame for adults to miss them because of that label.
Literary Fiction:
Dear American Airlines by Jonathan Miles
Sashenka by Simon Montefiore
Four Spirits by Sena Jeter Naslund
The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri (never got around to reviewing for TFB, but marvelous)
Fantasy/Imaginary Fiction:
The Little Book by Selden Edwards
Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke
Mystery/Crime Fiction:
When Will There Be Good News? by Kate Atkinson
Miss Smilla's Feeling for Snow by Peter Hoeg
Lush Life by Richard Price
Memoir/Biography/Non-fiction:
Sweet: An Eight-Ball Odyssey by Heather Byer
Max Perkins: Editor of Genius by A. Scott Berg
The Soul of a Chef: The Journey Toward Perfection by Michael Ruhlman
The Soloist: A Lost Dream, an Unlikely Friendship, and the Redemptive Power of Music by Steve Lopez (not yet reviewed on TFB)
Young Adult Fiction:
The Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Selznick
Slam by Nick Hornby
The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman
Lowboy by John Wray
And here is 2008's Inevitable End of the Year List, in case you're curious.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
The Soul of a Chef: The Journey Toward Perfection by Michael Ruhlman
I generally dislike cooking. I can create a good meal when I put my mind to it, but I tend to see it as just another chore on a long list. I try to get it over with as soon as possible, so I can do other, more interesting things with my time. I have a sneaking suspicion, however, that if I dare read any more of Michael Ruhlman's books, I may come to have a grudging affection for the act of preparing a meal.
My copy of The Soul of a Chef is sitting here on the table with sticky notes on many of its pages marking lines that resonated with this reluctant cook. The fact that I was compelled to mark pages is interesting because I don't often do it with the books I read for pleasure. I might copy down an interesting passage or mark a page or two, but the bristling pink marks in Ruhlman's book are an immediate clue that there is more to this book than recipes.
There is a story here--actually several compelling stories--and as Ruhlman searches for the answer to his question (what makes the "soul" of the quintessential chef), he reveals a way of looking at life that is both intriguing and inspiring. This perspective comes from Ruhlman's study of several chefs, most notably Brian Polcyn, Michael Symon and Thomas Keller, but also from observing many of the "minor players" that populate the kitchens of the Culinary Institute of America (CIA) and the restaurants of Symon and Keller.
Michael Ruhlman knows the world of food and chefs and restaurants well. A journalist by trade, he enrolled in the CIA so he could play at being a student for a while and "then write an intimate, colorful narrative of learning to cook, a lively description of what one needed to know to be a professional chef....I figured this was going to be neat." What Ruhlman didn't expect was to get completely pulled in to the intense, the often exhausting and utterly gratifying life of a chef himself. He quickly forgot that he was on a lark, of sorts, to gather material; Ruhlman became a trained chef.
I learned mental flexibility: You can accomplish anything, anything at all, if you put your mind to it. One must adopt a can-do-anything attitude. You were a professional. You didn't say no, not ever. You didn't complain. You didn't get tired. And you showed up, no matter what. You got there. Nothing but nothing kept you from reaching that kitchen....Also, you accepted the implicit obligation of excellence: Every effort would be your absolute best. Otherwise it was simply not worth doing.
But though he became trained as a chef, Ruhlman became more and more curious about what makes a true chef because "what I was seeing was [the] professional chef almost in caricature." What Ruhman sought was the professional chef out in the real culinary world, in busy, successful restaurants. So Ruhlman went from this own training at the CIA to working in restaurants himself to observing the chefs who were taking the infamous and grueling Certified Master Chef (CMC) exam. And then he sought out Michael Symon, then a rising star, now very well known, and Thomas Keller, the most renowned chef in the United States.
What Ruhlman learned from these two very different chefs (and also from observing the CMC exam) is that while very skilled and talented people can be trained to be excellent chefs, there is something inherent in "becoming not simply a chef and not a great cook but rather a great chef" that comes from the soul. There is an essence within a great chef that goes beyond all training and all experience. With Michael Symon that essence, comes from passion, exuberance, the ability to make people happy with his own joy at presenting them delicious food. He was at the beginning of his game when Ruhlman observed him and he had that culinary charisma already in his late twenties.
Keller, who was already well established as the premier chef in America when this book came out, had a more zen-like "soul":
Thomas Keller had been 100 percent driven toward cooking for nearly twenty-five years, a quarter century's active engagement in food and feeding people and watching how the world worked in relation to the cooking. He was smart, sensorily engaged in the world and seemed to be connected to the life core, that energy, that meaning, that order I sensed in the world and that cooking could connect you to. He tried to put all he was and all he knew into his food, always striving toward perfection, and had been doing so for a long time. To be a great chef required this much time, this much presence within the work.
Ultimately, Michael Ruhlman comes to believe that there is something that every amateur cook and "great chef" shares:
...people who truly love to cook...seek in our collective struggle, to learn more and to cook better, but we are in fact reaching for that connection to humanity that we've lost or maybe never had or simply want more of.... This connection will ever elude us until we learn to move deliberately, to take a long time, to make sure our counter is clean every night. And it will elude us if we ever lose sight of cooking's fundamental importance to others.
A little romantic, this vision of cooking? Perhaps. But it's a vision that is very appealing. Seeing the preparation of a meal as a form of connection rather than as an end-of-the-day chore makes it valuable and worthwhile rather than an obligation. It turns it from an "all about me" job to an "all about them" offering.
Now, about that counter....
My copy of The Soul of a Chef is sitting here on the table with sticky notes on many of its pages marking lines that resonated with this reluctant cook. The fact that I was compelled to mark pages is interesting because I don't often do it with the books I read for pleasure. I might copy down an interesting passage or mark a page or two, but the bristling pink marks in Ruhlman's book are an immediate clue that there is more to this book than recipes.
There is a story here--actually several compelling stories--and as Ruhlman searches for the answer to his question (what makes the "soul" of the quintessential chef), he reveals a way of looking at life that is both intriguing and inspiring. This perspective comes from Ruhlman's study of several chefs, most notably Brian Polcyn, Michael Symon and Thomas Keller, but also from observing many of the "minor players" that populate the kitchens of the Culinary Institute of America (CIA) and the restaurants of Symon and Keller.
Michael Ruhlman knows the world of food and chefs and restaurants well. A journalist by trade, he enrolled in the CIA so he could play at being a student for a while and "then write an intimate, colorful narrative of learning to cook, a lively description of what one needed to know to be a professional chef....I figured this was going to be neat." What Ruhlman didn't expect was to get completely pulled in to the intense, the often exhausting and utterly gratifying life of a chef himself. He quickly forgot that he was on a lark, of sorts, to gather material; Ruhlman became a trained chef.
I learned mental flexibility: You can accomplish anything, anything at all, if you put your mind to it. One must adopt a can-do-anything attitude. You were a professional. You didn't say no, not ever. You didn't complain. You didn't get tired. And you showed up, no matter what. You got there. Nothing but nothing kept you from reaching that kitchen....Also, you accepted the implicit obligation of excellence: Every effort would be your absolute best. Otherwise it was simply not worth doing.
But though he became trained as a chef, Ruhlman became more and more curious about what makes a true chef because "what I was seeing was [the] professional chef almost in caricature." What Ruhman sought was the professional chef out in the real culinary world, in busy, successful restaurants. So Ruhlman went from this own training at the CIA to working in restaurants himself to observing the chefs who were taking the infamous and grueling Certified Master Chef (CMC) exam. And then he sought out Michael Symon, then a rising star, now very well known, and Thomas Keller, the most renowned chef in the United States.
What Ruhlman learned from these two very different chefs (and also from observing the CMC exam) is that while very skilled and talented people can be trained to be excellent chefs, there is something inherent in "becoming not simply a chef and not a great cook but rather a great chef" that comes from the soul. There is an essence within a great chef that goes beyond all training and all experience. With Michael Symon that essence, comes from passion, exuberance, the ability to make people happy with his own joy at presenting them delicious food. He was at the beginning of his game when Ruhlman observed him and he had that culinary charisma already in his late twenties.
Keller, who was already well established as the premier chef in America when this book came out, had a more zen-like "soul":
Thomas Keller had been 100 percent driven toward cooking for nearly twenty-five years, a quarter century's active engagement in food and feeding people and watching how the world worked in relation to the cooking. He was smart, sensorily engaged in the world and seemed to be connected to the life core, that energy, that meaning, that order I sensed in the world and that cooking could connect you to. He tried to put all he was and all he knew into his food, always striving toward perfection, and had been doing so for a long time. To be a great chef required this much time, this much presence within the work.
Ultimately, Michael Ruhlman comes to believe that there is something that every amateur cook and "great chef" shares:
...people who truly love to cook...seek in our collective struggle, to learn more and to cook better, but we are in fact reaching for that connection to humanity that we've lost or maybe never had or simply want more of.... This connection will ever elude us until we learn to move deliberately, to take a long time, to make sure our counter is clean every night. And it will elude us if we ever lose sight of cooking's fundamental importance to others.
A little romantic, this vision of cooking? Perhaps. But it's a vision that is very appealing. Seeing the preparation of a meal as a form of connection rather than as an end-of-the-day chore makes it valuable and worthwhile rather than an obligation. It turns it from an "all about me" job to an "all about them" offering.
Now, about that counter....
Monday, December 7, 2009
That's how they do it....
The other day I was wondering aloud how people like Neil Gaiman, Dave Eggers, and other perpetually producing creative types do it.
Do they not sleep? Are they just so ridden with brilliant ideas that they are able to churn out material like machines? (Maybe they are machines themselves, and not actual humans.) Are they secretly enslaving legions of child prodigies who actually do the work that they then take credit for?
Then I found a possible answer on Neil Gaiman's blog (which, by the way, is a very cool one):
"Sunday, December 06, 2009
What I plan to do this week
Posted by Neil at 5:19 PM
Write.
Walk the dog.....
Not go onto the internet except occasionally to email people things they are waiting for.
Sleep."
Ah ha! He does sleep, but apparently must plan it ahead of time. He does appear to actually do the work. He avoids the internet. He exercises.
However, there is no mention of eating. Or bathing. Or cleaning the house. Or holding conversations with children or adults who are related to him. Hum.
Definitely a machine.
Do they not sleep? Are they just so ridden with brilliant ideas that they are able to churn out material like machines? (Maybe they are machines themselves, and not actual humans.) Are they secretly enslaving legions of child prodigies who actually do the work that they then take credit for?
Then I found a possible answer on Neil Gaiman's blog (which, by the way, is a very cool one):
"Sunday, December 06, 2009
What I plan to do this week
Posted by Neil at 5:19 PM
Write.
Walk the dog.....
Not go onto the internet except occasionally to email people things they are waiting for.
Sleep."
Ah ha! He does sleep, but apparently must plan it ahead of time. He does appear to actually do the work. He avoids the internet. He exercises.
However, there is no mention of eating. Or bathing. Or cleaning the house. Or holding conversations with children or adults who are related to him. Hum.
Definitely a machine.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Time Pressed at TFB
Though the stack of books to read is ever increasing, time here at TFB is ever decreasing! My posting output has suffered over the last couple of months, and while Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke is largely to blame for the loss of the much of October, non-readerly obligations have been crowding out the last several weeks.
So, I'm reading more slowly, but still reading. I hope you'll be patient with me and keep tuning in for more posts as they come. The next one on the list is Michael Ruhlman's book The Soul of a Chef. It is really great food reading that is quite appropriate for the holiday season. The book is so interesting and the descriptions are so good that even this non-meat-eating reader thought Chef Thomas Keller's sauteed calf brain--served at the famed French Laundry restaurant--sounded intriguing.
(Intriguing, but not tempting...though if Chef Keller were to personally invite me to the French Laundry to try it, I might have to give it a whirl.)
So, I'm reading more slowly, but still reading. I hope you'll be patient with me and keep tuning in for more posts as they come. The next one on the list is Michael Ruhlman's book The Soul of a Chef. It is really great food reading that is quite appropriate for the holiday season. The book is so interesting and the descriptions are so good that even this non-meat-eating reader thought Chef Thomas Keller's sauteed calf brain--served at the famed French Laundry restaurant--sounded intriguing.
(Intriguing, but not tempting...though if Chef Keller were to personally invite me to the French Laundry to try it, I might have to give it a whirl.)
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