Book Review: The Art of Eating In by Cathy Erway

The adventures of a girl who only eats home made food for two years while living in New York. It sounds so promising and the first chapter about the history of restaurants and how NY became the ‘eating out’ capital of world is amazing. Unfortunately after that, there is not enough cooking and a lot of ‘discovering oneself’ and honestly, reading a book filled with every day anecdotes about random people doesn’t interest me. When Cathy DOES talk about cooking (and I mean the nitty gritty of cooking, not just ingredient lists and recipes, I mean how you can juggle cooking dinner and desert at the same time and how you can add these leftovers to this meal to make it better and how bone in cooking creates more flavour) it’s really interesting and the writing flows along. But when she’s telling stories which involve several people you’re not sure if she has already introduced in the book or if they just appeared now and the timeline is a little fragmented (WHEN DID SHE PICK UP THE MEAT FROM THE BUTCHER? WHEN??) and the writing weaves knots that suddenly tighten and choke the story without actually getting anywhere.

Somehow I think this concept made a much better blog.

Anyway, the book cycles through Cathy’s initial romance with her boyfriend, their moving in together and eventual break up, followed by her quest for romance which doesn’t involve restaurant dinners. It also shows how hard it is to spend time out with friends and family without eating out. I found that the book gives a good list of things Cathy found hard, from avoiding vending machine snacks to finding the line between eating out and buying pre-prepared food. But the answers are rather enigmatic. This is either because I’m not good at reading between lines (I feel there should be no ‘hidden’ meaning in books. What’s the point in adding meaning if 60% of the readers aren’t going to pick up on it?) or because Cathy didn’t actually come up with any answers during her 2 year quest.

In the end, this book is a long slog which introduces the reader to some interesting concepts and theories, but doesn’t actually elaborate on much. Cathy explores dumpster diving, foraging and low waste eating, but doesn’t actually stick with any long enough to give a detailed analysis. Basically if you want a how to manual about not eating out or alternatives to eating out, this is not a good book. If you want a story about how an average girl spent two years figuring out her life while not eating out, then it is. I was expecting much more practical advice and was a little disappointed.

Book Review: This is not a drill by Paul Carter

I haven’t read Carter’s first book (Don’t tell mum I work on the rigs, she’s thinks I’m a piano player in a whorehouse – a title which always makes me wonder if he does actually know how to play piano), but that didn’t make my enjoyment of this sequel any less. Carter explodes into the book, immediately diving into the life or death situation that gives the book it’s name. From then until the very end the book is a whirlwind ride of dangerous and comical situations, crazy characters, giant crabs and excessive amounts of alcohol, love and heartbreak.

Carter flies around the word, from Russia to Japan to Afghanistan and back to Australia to see his long suffering girlfriend (now wife) Clare. He reconnects with his Dad and a few of his Dad’s war buddies over single malt scotch, barbecues toes during a storm, discovers the best way to sneak a ciggie on a non-smoking rig and nearly gets blown up researching mercenaries in the Middle East.

Carter’s writing is pretty damn eloquent, given that he’s been a self-professed rigrat for most of his adult life. Sure, there’s some very colourful phrases throughout, but on the whole, the style comes across like an editorial – well researched and factual, but still personal and emotive. Sometimes I found Carter gets a little verbose when he starts talking about causes and issues close to him, which doesn’t quite fit with the rest of the book, but forgive him that and this is a rollicking read which carries itself well into the early hours of the morning.

Book Review – Johannes Cabal and the Fear Institute by Jonathon L Howard.

This book filled one of my weaker “I need to buy a book RIGHT NOW” moments over the Christmas holidays while I was moving house (I know, I know, I’m an idiot) and everything was packed. I read a chapter and thought it was pretentious and overdone. Then I read another chapter and got all hooked and was constantly thinking about what Cabal was going to do next and then I’d read in bed until 2am and never once did I actually manage to predict what would happen (twist ending? oh yes!) and then about 3 chapters from the end it got all pretentious and overdone again and lost the interestingness.

Johannes Cabal is a necromancer. I’ve never read any of the past books in the series, but coming in at book three doesn’t really matter until you get to the end and there’s this terrible cliffhanger ending which makes you mutter for days cursing authors and publishers and schedules and things. Anyway, he is a necromancer and he has a dry wit and a superior intellect and a chaos god who likes to play with him. His services are secured by a society (one with an impractical handshake) whom require him to travel to the Dreamlands and kill the phobic animus – the source of all fear in this world.

So into the Dreamlands goes Cabal, with Mr Bose, Mr Shadrach and Mr Corde of the Fear Institute tagging somewhat reluctantly along with him. But Cabal disagrees with the fundamental structures (or lack of them) of the Dreamlands and it turns out the Dreamlands disagree with Cabal. And there’s a strange and rather helpful ghoul who keeps following them around (ok, I admit, THAT twist I did get quite early on). And in the end, it’s not clear if Cabal has accomplished his task, someone else’s task or any task at all.

The language is clever (overly so – if I have to read with a thesaurus next to me then the author is just showing off) and the pace quick moving and there are cats. Sometimes you might not catch something and go back a few pages, re-read it and still not catch it or be sure there was anything to catch in the first place, but don’t be alarmed – I’m pretty sure it’s meant to be like that. And you’ll want to dress in all black once you finish reading it – if you don’t already – and encourage pixies with teeth to live at the bottom of your garden.

Can’t wait for the next one. I’m going to hate the first two chapters, but it’s worth it.

Fragment I

When I was younger, I believed a red fox lived in between my mattress and the enamelled railing at the end of my bed. I was scared to put my feet all the way down, even under the blankets, because I was terrified it would crawl out and nibble my toes. Mum would attempt to check under the bed and I’d think “what the hell? It’s not UNDER the bed, it’s squished between the mattress and the bed end. Looking under there is not going to do any good!” As a result of sleeping for years as close to the bedhead as possibly, I now can’t sleep unless I’m propped up on a pillow with my knees curled up to my body.