I actually read a big chunk of this book at the same time as I was making my way through The Sound and the Fury. Up until now in my Cannonball reading I have made it a point not to start a new book until I was 100% finished reading the previous one, mainly stave off the curse of book-abandonment that has plagued most of my reading career, but also because it would complicate my records*. I was forced to break this rule though because Faulkner's story was so dense, depressing and complex that sometimes I just couldn't deal with it. Intellectual disability and suicide and racism and reckless promiscuity just don't make great bedtime reading, you know?**
The School of Essential Ingredients, on the other hand, made excellent bedtime reading Unlike Faulkner (who I halfway suspect of making his book difficult on purpose, to torment me), Bauermeister required almost no effort or thought from me at all. Her book is so pleasant, so soothing. What a relief! The book is about a cooking class in which the teacher is really sweet and lovely, and so are all of the students. Everyone is nice to each other all the time. Two of them fall in love and the rest form lifelong friendships. At the beginning one of them is really sad and depressed about how becoming a mother has caused her to lose her sense of self, and I know that sounds sad, but don't even worry about it because at the end of the first chapter she eats some crab and then her life is fixed! Never before have I read a book with so little conflict! Never before have I read a book that so compelled me to use exclamation marks!
I wonder how many reviews there are comparing this book to comfort food. I bet that it's a lot. Who wouldn't be comforted by reading about a world where people are all wonderful and eating can solve all your problems? I certainly was.
William Faulkner is rolling in his grave.
Page count: 256
Up next: The Big Rewind by Nathan Rabin (which I have actually already finished)
*Keeping detailed records has been an infinitely satisfying offshoot of the Cannonball experience so far. I'll tell you about it sometime.
**Actually, reckless promiscuity sometimes makes for great bedtime reading, just not in this case. Also, while your all the way down here in the footnotes, I might as well acknowledge the fact that I have discussed the content of The Sound and the Fury more in this review, the one for a completely different novel, than I did in my actual review of The Sound and the Fury. Sorry. That's just how it goes sometimes.
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You know who I adore? You! That's who.
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