A few thoughts on Ruth Reichl's "Save Me the Plums," now causing waves in bookstores:
*Reichl says, in childhood, she was drawn to fairy stories. In such a story, there would often be a "magic door," a portal to another world. Reichl understood that food could be her own magic door. By paying very close attention to the things she was eating, Reichl could begin to narrate fairy stories of "a different sort." She could have an adventurous life. (Reichl can also be unsentimental about writing. She says a gift of newspaper-writing is: seeing your carefully-crafted words from yesterday "wrapping up today's fish." Writing is a job, just as fish-preparation is a job.)
*One thing that inspires me about Reichl is her sense of empathy. Reichl does not describe her adversaries with a sense of incomprehension. Instead, she takes the time to understand where people are coming from. So, for example, Reichl tangles with her advertising director, but she doesn't demonize this director. She knows the director needs to sell, sell, sell. As Reichl describes the director with amusement ("The thought of stepping into a subway terrified her"), we're able to see the scene *both* from Reichl's perspective *and* from her adversary's perspective. That's good storytelling.
*Reichl is able to laugh at herself. Some of the humor in the newest memoir comes from Reichl's sense of bafflement in the offices of a big magazine. "I'm great with a teeosee," says one thirsty employee, and Reichl has to call a friend, covertly, to grasp what this word means. "T.O.C.," says the friend. "Table of Contents."
Reichl also captures for us how uncomfortable she is at Meeting One, and we feel her sweat; we relive her anxiety, with her, as she forgets all the words she planned to say. Portraying yourself in such a vulnerable way takes real confidence. Reichl isn't afraid to let us see her foolishness and humanity.
*Reichl can also spot a metaphor before many of us can. A seemingly innocuous discussion about a chocolate cake, at "Gourmet," is really a way for peons to test whether Reichl knows what the hell she is talking about. The tension and suspense, and inherent silliness, in this moment, all make me think of Meryl Streep in "The Devil Wears Prada." I wonder if Reichl watched this.
*Finally, I love this book because of its back photo, which has Reichl standing by some outdoor chairs, overlooking a grand vista (the Hudson River?) Reichl has come so far in her life. She grew up in a tricky household, but she didn't allow her difficulties to hold her back. She makes me think of a Viktor Frankl observation--"You can control very little in life, but you *can* control your own response to adversity"--and (again) she inspires me. I'm curious to read her book about childhood (which has had at least two titles), and possibly "Comfort Me with Apples" -- very soon.
*Reichl says, in childhood, she was drawn to fairy stories. In such a story, there would often be a "magic door," a portal to another world. Reichl understood that food could be her own magic door. By paying very close attention to the things she was eating, Reichl could begin to narrate fairy stories of "a different sort." She could have an adventurous life. (Reichl can also be unsentimental about writing. She says a gift of newspaper-writing is: seeing your carefully-crafted words from yesterday "wrapping up today's fish." Writing is a job, just as fish-preparation is a job.)
*One thing that inspires me about Reichl is her sense of empathy. Reichl does not describe her adversaries with a sense of incomprehension. Instead, she takes the time to understand where people are coming from. So, for example, Reichl tangles with her advertising director, but she doesn't demonize this director. She knows the director needs to sell, sell, sell. As Reichl describes the director with amusement ("The thought of stepping into a subway terrified her"), we're able to see the scene *both* from Reichl's perspective *and* from her adversary's perspective. That's good storytelling.
*Reichl is able to laugh at herself. Some of the humor in the newest memoir comes from Reichl's sense of bafflement in the offices of a big magazine. "I'm great with a teeosee," says one thirsty employee, and Reichl has to call a friend, covertly, to grasp what this word means. "T.O.C.," says the friend. "Table of Contents."
Reichl also captures for us how uncomfortable she is at Meeting One, and we feel her sweat; we relive her anxiety, with her, as she forgets all the words she planned to say. Portraying yourself in such a vulnerable way takes real confidence. Reichl isn't afraid to let us see her foolishness and humanity.
*Reichl can also spot a metaphor before many of us can. A seemingly innocuous discussion about a chocolate cake, at "Gourmet," is really a way for peons to test whether Reichl knows what the hell she is talking about. The tension and suspense, and inherent silliness, in this moment, all make me think of Meryl Streep in "The Devil Wears Prada." I wonder if Reichl watched this.
*Finally, I love this book because of its back photo, which has Reichl standing by some outdoor chairs, overlooking a grand vista (the Hudson River?) Reichl has come so far in her life. She grew up in a tricky household, but she didn't allow her difficulties to hold her back. She makes me think of a Viktor Frankl observation--"You can control very little in life, but you *can* control your own response to adversity"--and (again) she inspires me. I'm curious to read her book about childhood (which has had at least two titles), and possibly "Comfort Me with Apples" -- very soon.
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