womens fiction

With The Book of Salt, author Monique Truong has created a beautiful and fascinating glimpse into the lives of two of the most iconic lesbians to have ever lived: Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas. Yet, their story is not told through either of these amazing women, but instead through their Vietnamese cook, Bình-a young man struggling with many secrets and inner demons.

Having fled from Vietnam in disgrace, Bình finds himself in Paris. The year is 1929 and he has been through a succession of brief, miserable positions as a household cook. While perusing the help-wanted section, he spots an intriguing ad: "Two American ladies wish to retain a cook..." He decides to apply, and his life will never be the same.

Truong tells the story of Bình's life in a mosaic of scenes, moving back and forth chronologically, revealing a little at a time until the puzzle is complete. Through the telling, we are treated to an intimate glance into the private lives of Stein and Toklas. Truong's writing is gorgeous, almost poetic at times. You almost feel a sense of loss when you reach the final page. I highly recommend this book.

A book to be savored a few pages at a time; chewed and digested slowly like a fabulous meal. More than just "a read," THE BOOK OF SALT is an experience that involves all five senses -- and a sixth sense, if you possess it.

Among other things, Binh is the Vietnamese cook of Alice B. Toklas and Gertrude Stein. He is also an intellectual, a lover, a dreamer, a son, a man. We are privy to his inner life, insofar as he wishes us to be, both humorous and sad.

The story is told in almost poetic fashion; each word is savored for its own merit, and, like the ingredients of any fine cuisine, craftily blended to perform the perfect meal. It is more than satisfying; it is exquisite.

There is no more to tell about Binh; Truong has said it all. But there must be plenty of other fascinating characters lurking about in Truong's brilliant mind. Surely there's more! We await her next story excitedly, like children at bedtime.

This book's wealth of detail, insight, and style are positively seductive. For the first 30 pages I kept asking myself if it was possible that a book could be so beautifully written. Unfortunately, the answer is complicated. The reason I couldn't place where the writing struck me is that it is beautiful while being profoundly false. Despite its charms, the book lacks a strong emotional or narrative thread, touching down where Truong wishes to spend time rather than where any kind of intellectual or emotional interest might take us. The whole book begins to smell of artifice well before the the end. Perhaps most grievously, this book is a Classic example of a middle-class person writing about poor people. Absolutely missing is any sense of the dirt, despair, and darkness of lives lived under the thumb of colonialism and racism. The poetic language in many ways betrays the detailed, lovely writing, exposing it as the fantasy of someone far distant from the world of which she writes. Ultimately, Truong comes off as a romantic poseur. A very convincing one, but you can smell the tin beneath the flowers.