pufiferfish's review against another edition

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5.0


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onlyonebookshelf's review against another edition

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3.5


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readingpicnic's review against another edition

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5.0

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher Algonquin Books for a free digital ARC (or I guess a late reader copy since I requested this and was approved after it was already published) in exchange for an honest review. The recipes were tied into the story so well before they were reintroduced in recipe format, and it was such a wonderful enmeshing of genres that felt so natural. The ways that the recipes were altered in creative ways, such as with instructions to noisily prepare food to make the eater feel unwelcome eating it–so creative. The food descriptions were incredible and so meticulous, and you can tell the author’s passion for the food knowledge that she wrote this to preserve, keeping both her mother and culture’s recipes alive. The mission of this book and the execution were fairly flawless in my opinion, and even though readers should check the trigger warnings due to the traumas of the Cambodian genocide and living in communist North Vietnam with extremely rationed food, living in extreme poverty, as well as losing so many family members to illness, it is still definitely worth the read. The family dynamics were very interesting to read about, especially in the ways some of her siblings just stopped interacting with them after moving away from Cambodia and the normalcy of that (could just be my western perspective). I am truly not very educated on Cambodia’s history, so even though I learned some of that history from this book, this really emphasized for me how much more I have to learn (I think I’ll read Ma and Me by Putsata Reang soon). I think that ending the book with an epilogue from her daughter was a great way to round out the story and really emphasized the generations of women that are so prevalent in this story. The relationships between Chantha and her mom, her sister (who also took on a mothering role), and then between her and her daughter were the true through line of this book, and it just all came together so nicely and in such a lovely way. Anyways, 5 stars, and I’m glad I took my time reading this slowly.

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nad_books623's review

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5.0

This was a beautiful and incredibly sad story. The book was raw and as an American it was good reading her story while, living during the Vietnam war. 

This was the first time I've read a book that focused on food which, I believe made the book 5 stars. The way everything was connected was beautiful. 

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bibliomich's review against another edition

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Out of respect for authors' personal stories, I prefer not to provide star ratings for memoirs.

“I will tell you my story, but I insist on telling it with hands busy and the kitchen full of enticing aromas. I’ll cook for you throughout the telling. You’ll see for yourself that the past cannot be erased so easily. You’ll taste for yourself the way that history can be carried forward, borne on the smoke from a long-gone mother’s charcoal fire.”

Chantha Nguon's emotional memoir, Slow Noodles, tells the story of her coming of age in the time of the Khmer Rouge's totalitarian regime in Cambodia. Spanning multiple decades and traveling across Southeast Asia, from Cambodia to Vietnam to Thailand, the author frames her narrative using vignettes about food and family.

As one might expect given the setting and content, Nguon's narrative is devastating, and while it is rife with stories of violence, abuse, death, and grief, the author's story is, at its core, a tale about a girl growing up. While many of her life experiences are truly unfathomable to someone like myself who lives with such privilege, Nguon also told plenty of stories that felt deeply relatable--stories about growing up, rebelling, and questioning herself and the world around her. The ability to relate to and understand Nguon made the tragedy she experienced all the more heartbreaking.

Thank you to NetGalley for my advanced copy.

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kimwritesstuff's review

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5.0

Every year I read a handful of nonfiction books and Slow Noodles is probably one of my favorite nonfiction books I’ve ever read. Chantha recounts the joy of her childhood and the horror of losing everything and everyone. Only once she becomes “white hands” (truly in poverty) does she begin to build back up. This book not only educated me on the history of Cambodia, but also the refugee experience. It’s not a quick journey to a satisfying ending, this memoir takes us through decades of loss and survival.

How do we experience our culture? Chantha starts her memoir just before she’s nine years old. In that happy bubble of her childhood, her best memories are in the kitchen with her sister and mother. The beauty of this memoir is the interwoven recipes. Chantha revives her culture through food. She has no photos, no written history, but she does have her puppy nose and the remembrance of her mother’s dishes. That’s how she rebuilds and finds joy. Even at her lowest, her family always found joy in food when they could.

When Pol Pot comes to power and promises to purify Cambodia, Chantha’s family starts the exodus to Saigon. Chantha is half Cambodian and half Vietnamese; her mother knew that they weren’t safe, and so they ran. In Saigon, Chantha lives in a small house with her siblings, though slowly her siblings leave with the exception of her older sister. Through these times of fear and poverty, Chantha still finds joy in her friendships and in food. Even as she loses family and friends, as she flees to new homes and has to keep starting over.

There are times when reading I grimaced and times when I almost cheered. Chantha’s story is heartbreaking, but all too familiar. Refugees the world over have similar stories of loss and redemption. Some only have stories of loss. Embedded in the story is also female empowerment. Even when Chantha is at her lowest, she still looks for small ways to lift up others. When trying to escape Cambodia the second time with Chen, she cooks for a brothel, but it’s not just cooking. She also tries to help by providing medical care to the women who work there. Later when her and Chen start their own nonprofit (link above), the focus is female empowerment through education.

This book is beautiful and haunting. Thank you, Chantha, for giving us your history.

Thanks to Algonquin Books for the ARC. 


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