Mellifluous prose, sweet, savory, tart in turn. Never sparse or half-baked, occasionally overmixed becoming dense. A plot teasingly presented, with certain events told out of order, a sudden burst of the past flavouring the present. A fable, a fantasy, an alternate or imagined history where liberties stretch some facts and possibilities. The novel requires nearly as much effort to consume as it must have taken to produce. Rarely has the labor required of two interwoven occupations - writer and reader - been so apparent. Possibly nearly as many one-liners as Ms Stein herself is known for.

I have book-reviewing block, so this is going to be free-association-y rambling.

When I was twelve, I wrote a short story about a witch in the desert for my combined English/History class (yes it was one of those New Age-y things with a funny course name*). It was not a particularly good short story, though I was somewhat proud of the slowly unwinding suspense and the female-centric focus**, if only because after I’d gone about two pages over the page length suggestion and realized I’d need another ten pages to really make a plot arc and so instead ended it rather open-ended on the next page because hey, I’d already demonstrated sufficiently*** that I’d at least retained some knowledge of the rise of Islam during the Middle Ages, Bedouins, and Islamic culture.

Reading The Book of Salt reminded me of this long-forgotten assignment, because, well, The Book of Salt reads a lot like Monique Truong’s college-educated version of said assignment, demonstrating sufficiently her knowledge of the Lost Generation. Troung clearly knows Gertrude Stein’s salon and its visitors well, and observes it with equal measures art hanger-on-ism and pot-shot-taking. My own pet issue shoehorned into my desert setting was young female empowerment, but Truong’s is colonialism and homosexuality, as evidenced my her main character—Binh the Vietnamese cook of Gertrude Stein and Alice Toklas.

Admittedly Monique Truong is a much better writer than I was at twelve (or now), but there’s still a overall perfunctory and rambly nature that the results share. The narrative doesn’t really go anywhere beyond its place setting or 20s Vietnam and Paris, and particularly Binh’s journey is less goes anywhere than simply gives context for more historical figures to show up… even when Truong makes obvious attempts at making his story Literary (as with the food descriptions, which disappointingly felt rather sterile and self-conscious rather than the food-porn I was looking forward to).

As a history assignment, an A for The Book of Salt, as literature, a D.

*I mean, why not combine the two most boring subjects into a 3 hour block of drudgery, right? Besides I happen to think Math and History would be a better combination. Or Physics and PE. Or Foreign Language and English.Yeah, I love reading and grammar and hate English classes. Go figure.
** though in retrospect, I could have just been unconsciously aping The Witch of Blackbird Pond
***And hey I got an A-. It was certainly better than my previous year’s “Public Speaking as Mary Queen of Scots” had turned out, (but not as good as my humorous play on feudalism’s labor exploitation starring puppets and human actors).

Onvan : The Book of Salt - Nevisande : Monique Truong - ISBN : 618446885 - ISBN13 : 9780618446889 - Dar 272 Safhe - Saal e Chap : 2003

I can't say I loved this book, because at times, it was a slog. But there beautiful moments that really shined through, and made the reading experience all the more enjoyable. Bình's story is hard to navigate, not only for the reader, but for himself. From colonial Vietnam, French Indochina, and now living in Paris, he works for the Stein household: Alice Toklas and Gertrude Stein, or in Bình's lexicon, Miss Toklas and GertrudeStein. There's a whole lot to unpack here, as we might say in my class, dealing with power dynamics, [post]colonial subjecthood, transnational queerness, queer desire, the sexual politics of food... so much so that I wrote my midterm paper on this book!

Having read The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas by Gertrude Stein, this book was a really interesting perspective shift. The way Truong inhabits Bình's character, oscillates between various timelines (his childhood, his time working in Indochina, his arrival and working for the Steins, his romantic/sexual escapades, the present) is incredibly impressive and compelling.

Read for FREN 412, Postcolonial Theory and Literature, Spring 2021

i thought this was really beautifully written! excited to discuss in book club! made me hungry!!! made me want to go back to paris!!!!

It was very good! But the stream of consciousness style was frustrating for me

First off, Monique Truong is a super talented author and I will happily look for more of her books. Unfortunately, The Book of Salt is filled with all three of my Sleepy Read Triggers: religion (Catholicism in particular), cooking minutiae (Babette's Feast, zzzzzzzzz), and magical realism.

The three main characters in this historical-fiction are Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas and Binh, the Vietnamese cook they take in at their famed Paris Studio. In addition, there are a ton of other intriguing characters, narrator Binh's family members, former employers, love interests, and various men he meets on boats and bridges (most of whom seemed to be love interests, but I got too confused to say so for certain). None of these people were introduced in a chronological order, their stories were all layered and interrupted, and then re-introduced in a pseudo-rhythmic manner with various constant and repeated refrains - all of which I think was meant to reference GertrudeStein's non-linear style, but which did not really appeal to me personally.

stunning sentences & i love how i gave this to chris only for him to give it back because he loved it so much and wanted me to read it too

crying, weeping, goodbye

2.5 stars. I think this is an admirable book, and audio book was not the right format to experience it in. All the jumping back and forth in time and place was kind of disorienting, and it was hard to care about Binh when he was so emotionally distant. I did like the parts about Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas, and the food parts.

3.5 stars
This book was absolutely gorgeous. I think if you read this as an audiobook, you would have a hard time discerning whether this was written as poetry or prose. Entire novels could've been centered around the poignant ideas sprinkled in single lines throughout this. Truong is an absolutely incredible writer, and this book was incredibly engaging.
That being said, I did have a hard time understanding it at times. The timeline is definitely a bit all over the place; if you gave me a list of plot points, I would confidently tell you that I had no idea when they happened in relation to each other. Some of this could probably be attributed to Truong's writing, but I also recognize that this book is complex and I read it relatively quickly, for a class. I would definitely like to revisit it in the future and would recommend it nevertheless to anyone interested in the synopsis and brilliant writing.

Rare is the book that makes me put it down with twenty pages. Normally I try to keep going, but sometimes you can just tell. I think this is the passage that did it for me:

"And so, like a courtesan, forced to perform the dance of the seven veils, I grudgingly reveal the names, one by one, of the cities that have carved their names into me, leaving behind the scar tissue that forms the bulk of who I am."

This is not in response to some grueling interrogation; no, employers are interviewing an applicant for a household job. I mean, asking someone where they're from and where they've been the past few years doesn't seem over the top, does it? But the author overindulges in ridiculous flowery language at every turn. If she pared it back, used the metaphors a bit more sparingly and with a bit more consciousness of the context, it might be okay. Instead, she seems insistent on using dramatic imagery for every little thing.

It just feels like it's supposed to be a 'good' novel that's going to end up being dramatically mediocre and not worth the time.