Blood, Bones and Butter

Gabrielle Hamilton can apparently both cook and write. I ate at Prune one birthday and loved it. Now I have read her memoir of becoming the person who she is today and quite like that too. She writes in a matter-of-fact fresh way that is easy to read (easy to digest?). Some of her metaphors actually work: she talks about forgiving her mother after 20 years " the oppressive heavy wet burden of snow slides off the roof of my soul in one giant thawing chunk and suddenly I feel clear, light and permissive."

Surprisingly, although she is very honest and forthcoming in many ways, she is always somewhat guarded about her inner motivations. Her shift from a 'radical feminist' to a mother of two boys with a male Italian doctor is unexamined, it just suddenly is. But she seems genuine, like the memoir of Patti Smith, Just Kids, there is little pretension,only authentic emotion and drive.