"What I Ate in One Year," by Stanley Tucci

I admire Stanley Tucci as an actor; most recently he was terrific in the film "Conclave," which now has extra resonance since the death of the Pope a few days ago. He also has a whole other career as a food writer, TV food program host, and in other food-related projects. I posted here about his earlier book "Taste," which I very much liked, and I have now read his "What I Ate in One Year" (Gallery Books, 2024). The premise and organization of this book, in which Tucci literally tells readers what he ate every day, with one usually short chapter for every day, may sound dull to prospective readers. It definitely is not. The book is in fact a sort of memoir of the year (2023) with a focus on food stories, skillfully and entertainingly woven in with stories about work, family, travels, and friends (some very famous). The stories are engaging, and Tucci's personality comes across as enthusiastic about all of the above. Despite his fame, he appears to be very down-to-earth, even humorously self-deprecating. Tucci is very much a family man, and especially savors cooking for and eating with family members, whether at home or in intriguing restaurants all over the United States and Europe. I suppose one needs to be somewhat of a "foodie" to fully enjoy this book, but only in the way of appreciating good food eaten in good company in interesting places (he especially loves Italy and Italian food). Anyone who loves to eat and, optionally, cook and/or travel, will find plenty to enjoy in this warm and welcoming book.

"First Light"

I wrote about Charles Baxter's novel "Feast of Love" on 3/22/10; one of several reasons I liked the book was its setting in Ann Arbor, Michigan, because I once lived in the AA area. I recently picked up, and read on the plane to and from a conference in Chicago, one of Baxter's older novels, "First Light" (Penguin, 1987), which also takes place (mostly) in Michigan, but this time in the Saginaw/Bay City area, where my parents and other family members once lived. There are two unusual characteristics of this novel. First, it starts in the present and moves backward in time, throughout the lives of the main characters all the way to early childhood, gradually revealing the roots of their relationships and choices in life. Second, the two main characters are brother and sister, a relationship seldom focused on in literature. Hugh was frequently told by his parents to take care of Dorsey, his younger sister. He always felt responsible for doing so, especially after their parents died young. The lives of the two siblings are very different; Hugh is a car salesman who dropped out of college, stayed in his parents' town and house, is in an unsatisfying marriage, and is the father of two young girls. He is reliable and caring, but there are moments when he is envious of Dorsey, who is an accomplished astrophysicist married to a loving but unfaithful actor, mother to a deaf son who is very well-adjusted, and moves around the country. There are various subplots, but the heart of the story is the sort of sibling dance between Hugh and Dorsey, and Baxter keeps us interested in their relationship and their stories.

Plenty of Family Drama But It Made Me Sleepy

Joanna Trollope turns out reliably entertaining, and reasonably well written, novels; I have enjoyed several of them in the past. Her new novel, "The Other Family" (Touchstone, 2010), is in the same vein as her other novels, and is fairly enjoyable to read, but I felt a little let down by it. I had trouble getting into it during the slow first section, and in fact I kept falling asleep while reading it. It seemed "talkier" than her usual novels, "telling" rather than "showing." Readers are not given enough of a sense of any of the characters to really know or care much about them. The storyline is vaguely interesting, as we learn that a famous musician has died and left two families behind, causing -- unsurprisingly -- tension and resentment. However, there is a sense of optimism, connection, and closure at the end, so that is all fine, if a bit pat. If a friend lends you this novel, or it otherwise crosses your path or shows up on your bedside table, and you feel inclined toward a quick, decently entertaining read, go for it. But I wouldn't recommend going out of your way to find, borrow, or buy it.

"Bad Mother"

Berkeley writer Ayelet Waldman (whom I once briefly met at a bookstore event) believes in honesty, even when it draws harsh criticism from the public. She is famous (notorious?) for an essay in which she stated that she loves her husband, writer Michael Chabon, more than she loves her children; many people vociferously disapproved, and made sure to let her know of their disapproval. This experience, although painful to her, did not stop her from writing equally honestly and openly in "Bad Mother: A Chronicle of Maternal Crimes, Minor Calamities, and Occasional Moments of Grace" (Doubleday, 2009). She writes about motherhood, sex, marriage, co-parenting, abortion, being bipolar, work (she is a Harvard-trained lawyer who stopped practicing), being a stay-at-home mom, being a writer, the pressures that so many women face in trying to balance work and parenting, both appreciating and throwing up her hands at the exacting and unrealistic standards promulgated by "Berkeley mothers," hopes for her children, and more. Most mothers want and need to feel they are excellent in that role; it takes a lot of courage to admit publicly that although she dearly loves her children, she is not a perfect mother, and further, to detail the ways in which she is not. I should note that it is clear that overall she is doing fine, and that her children, despite some bumps in the road, are doing more than fine. This book is brave, candid, humorous, and even inspiring. It is also very readable.