Beautifully written and a lovely story

Heartbreaking and beautifully written. This novel is about the intergenerational trauma of colonialism and the privileged power dynamics present even within queer communities of the early 20th century. Of course, there is so much more, a poem in the form of a novel...and a cookbook.

The narrator does a good job; he reads the words in a tone that well reflects their style, which is very lush. It's almost overwritten. I almost stopped listening in the first hour, because she wrote around the situation, descriptions circling and not saying the actual thing. An audiobook for specific occasions or moods, and it wasn't right for the listening I do when I'm doing most of my work (the majority of my opportunities to listen). Almost too literary, required a different kind of focus.

Overall, I liked the plot and the cast of characters. The exploration of what it is to be human, to be displaced. The gorgeous food descriptions.

It's a peculiar novel about a gay Vietnamese chef who has been expelled from home by his father (The Old Man) and is now living in Paris where he is now cooking for Gertrude Stein and Alice Toklas. The story takes place on different levels that are narrated in alternation: his childhood and family life intertwined with his love story with the French Governor General's chef in Vietnam, his voyage to France and his encounter with an adventurous sailor, his stories chez Stein et Toklas, and his love story with Sweet Sunday Man in Paris. It includes a lot of flashbacks, memories, and of course, a brilliant encounter with the Man on the Bridge who is no one else but Ho Chi Minh.

The story touches upon a lot of issues: French colonialism and christianity in Indochina, queer identity in the early 20th century both in Paris and Vietnam, food and cooking which I am pretty sure if you're into French cuisine, can add a lot of subtext to the story, and of course narration or -shall I say - narrative authority.

This last point is where the book, in my opinion, falls short of the job that it's supposed to do. The narrator - whom we know as Binh or Bin - draws particular attention to who can tell a story and whose story it actually is. A chunk of the story is about the ongoings between Stein and Toklas while the narrator, who is introduced to us as an acute observer of minor details, is not even supposed to speak English. In my opinion, this is where his point of view is jeopardized and lots of what is portrayed to us is actually subject to skepticism

Usually I don’t read works of historical fiction but Truong’s writing style and exploration of colonialism, diaspora, and identity made this book really stand out. Having lived outside my home country entirely in a foreign language, Binh’s descriptions of his relationship with French were relatable. Likewise, Truong has a talent for describing the complexity of emotions surrounding heavy subjects. Many passages were incredibly moving. I truly appreciated her unique approach to colonial France and Vietnam and I would recommend this book.

A beautiful find. This gem of a novel by first time writer Truong shows great promise. A lyrical meditation on love, sex, food, and post colonial identity, this novel about a Vietnamese chef who works for Gertrude Stein and Alice Toklas in Paris, is so comfortable in its dreamy imagination and adaptation that is feels ceaseless. It lingers like an ocean voyage.

3.5

My friend Naomi lent me this book a couple months ago while she was very homesick for Paris. I took advantage of today's awful weather to sit inside and read it. I can see how some could read it and not quite remember much about the book. One seems to glide in and out of scenes (Vietnam, somewhere in the middle of the ocean, Paris) with total ease. It's amazingly sensual. Descriptions of cooking and eating are as visceral as the descriptions of the books' lovers. I have really enjoyed reading this book and I have yet to even mention the silly pleasure of reading about Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Tolkas.

Yet this book is almost too well-written. The character's conflicts seem to never jam the work of the book. It makes me realize how much I love flaws in works. This seems so seamless. You wonder what the author will do next. Hopefully something a little more messy.

I was 3/4 of the way through this when I took a phone call from a friend and was trying to explain to her why I didn't like it. "You just don't love the dykes," she said (nice). "Actually," I said, "there's not enough about the dykes in this book for me to know if I like them or not!"

... and I realized the problem -- this book isn't about "GertrudeStein" (LOL!) and Alice Toklas; it's not about the chef; it's not about cooking; it's not about Americans living in Paris; and it's not about an unpublished manuscript. It's just a little about everything, and not enough focus on any one thing. Honestly, I'd have liked a book on any of these subjects, by this author, set in this time, with these characters. It's definitely interesting, but I wanted more on any of these topics.

Obviously, salt is a theme throughout the book, with some subtle and some obvious references. I liked this part at the end, in discussing the gazpacho of Malaga:

"Salt is not essential here," Miss Toklas interrupted. "Consider it carefully, Bin, before using it." A pinch of salt, according to my Madame, should not be a primitive reflex, a nervous twitch on the part of any cook, especially one working at 27 Rue de Fleurus. Salt is an ingredient to be considered and carefully weighted like all others. The true taste of salt -- the whole of the sea on the tip of the tongue, sorrow's sting, labor's smack - has been lost, according to my Madame, to centuries of culinary imprudence.

One of my foodie friends recently heard for the first time the axiom about using salt to cover bad cooking (if I can remember the exact expression, I'll add it here later). I thought this went well with that.

I do think foodies might enjoy this one, and it definitely made me more interested in Gertrude Stein's writings, but I can't say I loved it. It was, however, great for a flight from Denver to Newark for a quick business trip :)

I would like to say that I liked it more, but I just can't. I feel pretty well read, but this story is a mystery of wandering thoughts. Some parts flowed nicely and others were very disjointed and felt completely chopped up.

I still do not understand the title, even at the end. There were many observations of GertrudeStein and Miss Toklas that I really liked and one especially was regarding their "waiting kits" that Miss Toklas packed to give them something to do when their car broke down and they waited for help to arrive.
From the book: "Hers contains a set of knitting needles and several balls of apple green yarn, the disheveled kind with whispy hairs tangled on the surface. She likes the color, so unripe it always makes her pucker just to look at it. But most of all, she likes how the crispness of the color serves as a foil for the texture of the yarn, a melt-in-her-hand sensation. The eyes tell her one story, and the hands tell her another." It goes on to talk about interchanges and intrigue and personal foibles and the mood of the time. It ends with "My Madame knows that intrigue, like salt, is best if it is there from the beginning." This had to do with salting a roast after it has cooked as opposed to before."

This is not a cooking book kind of story but it talks about cooking. It is not really a story about GS and ABT except that Binh did live with and cook for them for about 5 years. It is supposed to be Binh's story, and it is but I really had to work hard to get through it.

sexy!!!!!!!!!!

Actual rating 2.5 stars. Despite Truong's obvious talent, this meandering stream of consciousness never rises to the heights it promises. While the premise--the life and times of the gay Vietnamese cook of Gertrude Stein--is promising, the book succumbs early and often to naval gazing of the sort that seems to think it is saying something profound, when it is largely just variations on gay angst. Perhaps not unsurprisingly, the best parts of the story center on Gertrude Stein and her lover Ms. Touklas, with whom the narrator only ever seems to engage with her with a sort of veiled disgust. Overall, a disappointing, frustrating book that spends many pages saying nothing.