Cookbook Collector

Contributed by Haley Pearson!

From time to time all discerning readers will come across a certain kind of book that, although devoid of material significance or complexity, is readable and perhaps even pleasurable. I myself often rely on what an old mentor referred to as "oatmeal" books when I need to unwind. I almost find it a form of literary meditation. Oatmeal books offer comfort predictability where other books demand self examination or the confrontation of troubling realities.

I wouldn't personally classify The Cookbook Collector as an oatmeal book, but it ticks many of the relevant boxes. It has been described in the press as a modern Jane Austen, with hidden love, hidden lust, obviously doomed relationships, a happy ending. Unsurprisingly, it lacks the complexities that force a reader to actually give a crap about who likes who and who loves who and all that soap opera stuff. Goodman tries to replace the complexity with plot complexity, altogether a failed effort. The novel reads like three novels squashed together in a vise.

The novel mainly concerns two sisters, one the high powered executive of a late-nineties tech startup about to go public, the other a winsome, wayward graduate student studying philosophy at Berkeley. Goodman tries to align their lives in terms of relationships but succeeds only in relying on the cliche of two sisters, seemingly very dissimilar, who in the end just want a man to save them.

I found especially disturbing the use of the 9/11 attacks as a plot device. Maybe I'm reacting too strongly, but somehow Goodman treats the event as background noise. The characters aren't given the chance to be mourners, but instead wind up seeming grotesquely self interested. Flabby protestations of loss and sadness lead directly to a sort of exultant release from the restrictions that had been posed by the now-deceased characters.

I'm not here only to criticize. I did find the novel engaging, and I found myself interested in the unfolding of the plot. The middle section focuses on the chance discovery of a cache of rare and valuable cookery books which are catalogued, examined, quoted, and treasured like poetry. Goodman does show herself to be extremely talented when alluding to the ineffable urges of the collector, the curator, and the researcher.

I would recommend the book as an easy read on holiday or perhaps on quiet fire lit evenings over christmas break. A food, antiques, and literature lover like myself might appreciate it as a thoughtful gift. However, don't pick it up expecting any true depth or literary tenderness. And don't take it on a plane