Customer Reviews

As They Were

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Mary Frances Kennedy Fisher writes about the pleasures of cooking and dining. But her stories of memorable meals, great recipes, and out-of-the-way restaurants are always presented in the context of the people and places she associates with them. Fisher's books are always autobiographies as well as travelogues, cook books and any number of other things. They defy categorization. The one thing they have in common is the superb writing of a master stylist. Her attention to detail, her observations and descriptions, are so rich that even a reader who has never had a particular interest in the subject matter of her essays is drawn into her fascinating world.

Oscar Wilde once wrote to the effect that great books cannot be judged by their subject matter or their philosophical bent, only by whether they are well written or not. By this criterion, Ms. Fisher is a great writer who deserves a wider audience.

A particularly special essay in this collection is Fisher's perspective on why she chose to live where she does. As with her choice of food and associates, Fisher demonstrates that where/how/why we call home is a decision which also demands a state of mindfulness and purpose. In the chapter, she also describes the death of neighboring trees due to severe weather. I think about this description frequently, as with many Fisher musings the viewpoint lingers.

What an engaging book of essays! I bought this on a hunch and am finding it simply absorbing. The stories are gently told and the insights hilarious, biting, kind, piercing. They are about people, towns, food, war, beauty, ugliness. I am even starting to understand the cultish following in the food community for MFK although her writings are as much about food as anything else. Her memories make me want to ask my mother and grandmother if it was like that for them, too. She speaks freely as if one is in the room with her thoughts, honored by the invitation.

Book rated in top condition, but as I turn pages, they come unglued and fall out. Not acceptable.

The text is well-written, but I found the narration extremely grating. In spite of her Gallic surname, Ms. Herbert's pronounciation seems way, way off. One example: is the city "Marseilles" really pronounced "Mar-SAY-uh" as she insists? Other non-English words and place names have equally odd inflections I've never encountered before.

I knew nothing of this author - execpt that she was a noted food writer - prior to picking up this book. She mentions being in Europe with her children for long stretches, yet makes no mention of their father, which I found curious. No mention of how she is supporting herself all this time, just prose-y observations.