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A review by jennifer
Pond by Claire-Louise Bennett
5.0
A gem of a book of short stories and poetry and sometimes a mix of both—most spectacularly in the last paragraph of The Gloves Are Off, which goes on for a page and a half—that reminded me at different times of a British version of Joan Didion channeling Marcel Proust or Seamus Heaney, or some combination thereof. This is, by the way, a compliment.
It is not a book of food writing and yet it also made me want to crack open my Chez Panisse cookbooks on multiple occasions, such as in the second story, Morning, Noon & Night, where dinner "would frequently involve broad beans, lemons, perhaps some spinach, and plenty of chopped walnuts and white cheese."
In one of my favorite stories, Finishing Touch, the narrator declares she's going to throw a party where "sure enough there'll be martinis and Campari and champagne and bottle after bottle of something from Vinsobres. And beautiful heaps of salad in beautiful bowls. Fennel and grapefruit and walnuts and feta cheese and all kinds of spread-eagled leaves basking in oil and vinegar." The story ends with some "nicely slumped cheese."
In Over and Done With (a perfect story to read now that Christmas is behind us if you're the sort that finds Christmas a bit trying) she talks about Christmas dinner of pheasant "Wrapped in thick rivulets of streaky bacon and the whole thing gussied up with such deliciously tart redcurrants" and surmises that "next time I'll do it slightly differently. Next time I'll break the bugger's backbone and do him in the pan."
There's also a short paean to tomato purée, appropriately titled Oh, Tomato Purée, and another to the surprising therapeutic benefits of Stir-Fry. Oh and another about the control knobs on her cooker (stove). But I promise you it's not really a book about food, just a lucky coincidence for those of us who like to eat.
It is not a book of food writing and yet it also made me want to crack open my Chez Panisse cookbooks on multiple occasions, such as in the second story, Morning, Noon & Night, where dinner "would frequently involve broad beans, lemons, perhaps some spinach, and plenty of chopped walnuts and white cheese."
In one of my favorite stories, Finishing Touch, the narrator declares she's going to throw a party where "sure enough there'll be martinis and Campari and champagne and bottle after bottle of something from Vinsobres. And beautiful heaps of salad in beautiful bowls. Fennel and grapefruit and walnuts and feta cheese and all kinds of spread-eagled leaves basking in oil and vinegar." The story ends with some "nicely slumped cheese."
In Over and Done With (a perfect story to read now that Christmas is behind us if you're the sort that finds Christmas a bit trying) she talks about Christmas dinner of pheasant "Wrapped in thick rivulets of streaky bacon and the whole thing gussied up with such deliciously tart redcurrants" and surmises that "next time I'll do it slightly differently. Next time I'll break the bugger's backbone and do him in the pan."
There's also a short paean to tomato purée, appropriately titled Oh, Tomato Purée, and another to the surprising therapeutic benefits of Stir-Fry. Oh and another about the control knobs on her cooker (stove). But I promise you it's not really a book about food, just a lucky coincidence for those of us who like to eat.