Customer Reviews

Book of Salt

5 star:		(18)
4 star:		(12)
3 star:		(6)
2 star:		(8)
1 star:		(3)

 

 

The first person account of the household cook hired by Alice B. Toklas and Gertrude Stein serves up a tale of culture, food, family and sexuality on a bed of beautiful language.

"Thin Bin," as Gertudestein (one word, in his parlance) calls him is a narrator into a world of his own making. Binh,is a product of a deeply rigid and malevolent father and a devoted mother whose self sacrifice gave Bin both a perspective on life and sense of isolation that shapes his narrative. Set against the backdrop of Vietnam under the french, the smells, tastes, rituals and traditions give the reader a sense of time and place that is heat and spice, water lily and devastation.

At an early age, Binh joins his brother in the kitchen of the French Governor General, where the art of food becomes work and avocation. The role of power and nationality and the tension between colonialism and identity play out in the foods demanded, called for against the natural inclinations of the ingredients aned the preparers. The description of preparing a sabayon in Vietnamese heat is rich and heady with cultural depth. When the head chef leaves he is replaced by another Frenchman, rather than a native, and the imperious replacement variously dominates and seduces Binh, whose sexuality plays as an emerging subtext throughout the book.

Once his relationship with the chef is discovered, Binh flees in shame for a prolonged sea voyage, and finds himself in Paris, where he cooks for a variety of clients. In fact, his very identity becomes blended with his ability to feed those who will hire him to do so:
"...I scramble to seek shelter in the kitchens of those who will take me. Every kitchen is a homecoming...a familiar story that I can embellish with saffron, cardomom, bay laurel and lavender. In their heat and in their steam, I allow myself to believe that it is the sheer speed of my hands, the flawless measurement of my eyes, the science of my tongue that is rewarded..."

Eventually, he answers an ad that begins "two American ladies wish to hire..." and becomes so much more than just a cook to Stein and Toklas, with insights into their special love for one another, and they trading off on his discretion and cooking genius for his own frailties and imperfections.

For food lovers, this book is an inhalation and a taste of everything that makes the difference between cooking and cuisine. For lovers, it is the sensual wording of touch and proximity. For the literary, it is an insight into the imagined life of Toklas and Stein as lovers and creators of literary works. For those looking for cross-cultural storytelling, it is the bridge betweeen Vietnam, France and America that results in a crossroad of Binh at the Gare in Paris, deciding whether to go to America with his sponsors, to stay in Paris where he has found lovers, or to go to Vietnam, where his story began and his identity belongs.

This book is spellbinding, compelling, beautfully written. I read it slowly because I knew as soon as I finished I would regret losing the voice, the sensuality and the depth of Binh. A masterpiece!

The Book of Salt has as its premise a hook that is bound to grab those who like books about books or authors. Its narrator is "thin binh" as he is called by Gertrude Stein and the novel seems to promise an interior look at the lives of Stein and Toklas. Anyone searching for that book here will be disappointed, however. While there are some great moments of characterization with regards to the famous duo, they really are a minor sidestory. The story truly is Binh's--how he got from Vietnam to his position as cook to "the Steins" as he refers to them and what he will do while they head off to America. The fact that it is his story isn't necessarily a bad decision, but the reader looking for more on the literary/artistic world one first thinks of upon hearing Gertrude Stein needs to be forewarned.
That put aside, the Book of Salt is a good book, but one burdened somewhat by the author's predilection for soupy, dense language. If one wants to continue the food metaphor started by the author herself (and I promise to do so just this once), then the novel is overspiced, the author lacking a bit in the light deftness needed to be a superb cook. Some of the language is truly beautiful, some will sweep you along, but there is no moderation in its use and so the book often, though not always, sinks underneath its linguistic weight.
The plot is interesting and compelling enough. Binh's story is told through interrupted flashbacks which help maintain suspense and answers the reader would like to have our slowly teased out of the narrative--what happened to drive him from home, what happened to several of his relationships, what will happen when the Steins go to America--does he join them, stay in Paris, or return home in answer to his brother's request?
A few scenes are perhaps a bit contrived, the food metaphor more often so, but these are relatively minor flaws in the whole. Binh's character and that of his mother stand out as wonderful creations, three-dimensional characters for whom the reader truly feels something. And if the Steins are more often in the background, as mentioned, there are still some wonderfully telling moments, often small but sharp.
It's hard to fault a book too much for its effusiveness, especially one where the other elements such as plot and character are so solid, thus the strong three as the recommendation. And I would happily pick up a second book by the author in hopes that the same intensity of language is there if not its frequency. Well-recommended with a few caveats.

I would tend to agree with the reviewer who gave The Book of Salt a strong 3-star rating. I think in the end I liked it a little bit more than that, so came down on the side of a weak 4-star review.

The Book of Salt is the first novel-length work by Truong. It has a fascinating concept. We know from history that Stein and Toklas had at different points two chefs from "Indochine". Nothing more is known. Truong picks up that point of unknown and spins it into a novel about love, identity, home and food.

The most successful thing about the book is its meditation on the relationship between the subject of the story and the teller of a story. Binh is at his most interesting when it is clear that he is as unreliable as Stein at telling his own past. The layers of narration that Truong creates are fascinating and finely drawn. Whatever the flaws that the book might have, I found it delightful to read for this alone.

The Book of Salt is less successful at investing Binh with enough of a character to really give the book depth. He is more a collection of traits than a person in his own right. It is not just his audience in Paris and his family back home who are projecting their issues and needs onto Binh, in the end it is the author herself. This strange shallowness is made more obvious by all of the well-written but self-indulgent prosody exploring the images of food and love.

In all, a fine first novel, and one that makes me want to read the second. The Book of Salt should appeal to readers with a taste for smart historical fiction or foodies with an eye for good description.

It is clear that this book is the work of a brilliant mind, and in its way it is exquisitely written. That said, I found it cold, overly dense, and confusing. The voice of the narrator was not believable or authentic; it was too intellectual and culturally sophisticated. It is the author's voice, and I found it disingenuous to make it out to be Binh's (but many of the observations are amazing!). Also, the reader is "supposed" to feel Binh's longing, but the weight of the author's words interfered with that for me. In the end, I came away from this book with a cold, empty feeling.

Monique Truong's first book is one of the most sensual books I have read recently, in the proper sense of the word. Binh the narrator is the main character of the book, whose story crosses continents, in an era that we are familiar with only from its bottled-up version. We learn early on that Binh the Vietnamese man is the house cook for the Steins in Paris, as in Gertrudestein and Miss Toklas. But we will only learn much later how this Vietnamese man ended up in his current position, and in the end we will be left wondering how he will move on from there.

Unlike many first-time authors, Truong does an excellent job of weaving the story together. The evocations throughout the book gives more and more insight into the big story, in small enjoyable pieces. I don't get why many other reviewers on this page decided to basically summarize the book in a linear fashion, were they writing for people who have read the book?

Nonetheless, this book is one of the few which made me truly feel like I was experiencing the story from the first person's perspective: Binh's narration explains his senses in aching yet flowing detail, from his belabored breathing while taking in the smell of certain herbs, to his sense of touch, and of course his lovestruck affairs and heartbreaks. The story fuses together Binh's station in the kitchen with the story of his life, regaling in how his memories are embedded in the dishes that he created for the Steins.

I can't wait for Truong's next book!

The salt in this book is many and varied - salt of the sea, salt of taste, salt of tears and salt of sweat. In her highly evocative book, Monique Truong has managed to cover all of these and more, brining the colours, tastes and sights of both France and Vietnam vividly to life.

This book is the story of its narrator Binh, who beings life in a Catholic family in Vietnam before running away to sea and ending up in France, when he makes his way to Paris before become the chef to Gertrude Stein and Alice B Toklas (or GertrudeStein and Miss Toklas as he calls them). However, this is not a straight forward narrative. Binh dips back and forth in time. This is a feature that many writers lose control of, but Truong manages it masterfully, and it adds to the story, not detracts. Binh is a sensitive soul, and spends his days searching for love. Being a homosexual before World War II, this is not always an easy proposition, and is one that leads him to trouble more than once.

The true beauty of this book is the prose - the descriptions of the things Binh comes across are elegant and appropriate. He does not just cut himself with a knife, he `threads his flesh with silver'; cooking is so evocatively described that you can smell it. Binh is not a sympathetic character, but as he leads you further into his life, you can't but help feel for him, and how life has shaped his outlook.

This book will appeal to many different types of readers - those who are interested in historical fiction, those who like books featuring food, someone who wants a good story first and foremost, those who search for good prose. This book is a gem, and I am already looking forward to future works from this first time author.

Debut novelist Monique Truong appears blessed with a delightfully fecund imagination. Of her cooking the Saigon born author says, "I cook for pleasure. I cook to experience something new.....I always cook or rather I always `taste' the food first in my mind. I approach a recipe like a story. I imagine it. Sometimes I have a dream about it, then I go about crafting it."

From her description most of us would relish joining her at table. Fortunately, all of us can join her through the pages of her poignant and mesmerizing first novel "The Book Of Salt." Inspiration for this fictional memoir was found as Truong was reading the Alice B. Toklas Cook Book, and ran across references to Indochinese men who cooked for Toklas and Gertrude Stein. Thus, Binh, Truong's protagonist and narrator was born.

The opening scene is the train station in 1934 Paris. While Toklas and Stein are going to America Binh's choice of destinations is not revealed. Will he go to America with the two formidable mesdames, stay on in Paris or return to his native Vietnam? As these possibilities are considered, Binh recalls his younger years, his ostracism for his sexual orientation, his nights in Parisian haunts, and his unhappy love affairs.

Weaving her tale between Binh's life and the fascinating goings-on in the Toklas/Stein household the author allows readers to savor numerous sumptuous meals and meet celebrities, including Paul Robeson and Ho Chi Mihn.

Sensuous, mouth-watering details enrich this artful examination of fascinating lives.. We await with eager anticipation the next offering from this uniquely gifted author.

- Gail Cooke

This is a hauntingly beautiful story of Binh, an Indochinese world traveler (and world class chef) who ends up in the Paris home of Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas. This is NOT a story about food or grand cooking anymore than "The Grapes of Wrath" was about picking vegitables.

This is a richly drawn character study. I found the story compelling and colorful and poignant. Binh's interactions with the two ladies is priceless. The scenes between him and his family - especially those envolving his mother - are quite elegantly rendered. The entire tale is told with exquisite attention to detail.

If you love literary novels that use historical figures as characters, you'll not want to miss this one.

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 is as an extremely rich chocolate cake - I consumed it only a bite at a time, looking forward to more. We read it for our book club, and those not at all familiar with Gertrude Stein were confused as first ... some even read it twice. When they first began reading it, they all hated it ... but by the end of our discussion last night, everyone loved the book - or at least loved that they had read it.

The narrative style is deep and descriptive - and so often I would shout as I read, "Yes! That is exactly what I have always meant!" - whether Truong was speaking of quince or genius.

Is this what we should be reading? No, this is no idealized account of anybody. But I'm always fond of representations of the forgotten - in this case, an Asian servant. His struggles are also mine - of language and place, of love and loss - and Truong emphasizes human similarities and ultimate aloneness.