Customer Reviews

Monsoon Diary: A Memoir with Recipes

5 star:		(13)
4 star:		(6)
3 star:		(7)
2 star:		(1)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

In all cultures, traditional foods shared with family become so integral to our inner lives that certain occasions are associated with certain foods forevermore. From her childhood though her arranged marriage twenty-five years later, author Narayan shares her own memories, recalling the foods which made them rich and vivid.

Filled with sense impressions, her earliest years are characterized by memories of Raju, the milkman who milked Tiger, his cow, on demand; Chinnapan, who set up his iron and ironing board under one of their trees and kept the iron hot by loading it with coals he picked up in his bare hands; and Jaya, his wife, whose face was bright yellow from the turmeric paste she habitually applied. In school Narayan and her friends would barter their lunches, trading back and forth in the currency of their mothers' specialties. Holidays and vacations were filled with memories of pungent family feasts.

During her college years in India, she applied surreptitiously to Mount Holyoke College for a fellowship and won it, only to run into significant opposition from her family. Her uncle suggested that if she, who had never cooked a full meal, could cook a vegetarian feast like those her mother cooked for the extended family, and have them like it, she might go. She did, and she went. Two years later, she won a scholarship to graduate school at Memphis State, this time cooking up a feast for potential donors in the U.S. in order to raise some of the extra money she needed. Later she would learn to cook traditional foods for her husband in the traditional ways.

Narayan's memoir is charming and sensitive, both to the cultural differences between South Asia and the United States, and to the realities of family life in both places. Through food she bridges the differences between our cultures and makes day-to-day life in each place understandable and accessible to people of other backgrounds. Mothers, with their desire to provide familiar foods for their families at year-round celebrations, are similar the world over, and Narayan uses them as the common denominator in our lives. As she shows us, everyone understands the universal maternal command, "Eat, eat." Mary Whipple

Reading Monsoon Diary is like having its author, Shoba Narayan, show up at your door with an Indian meal. I dare any reader to finish the book without trying at least one recipe.
The stories surrounding the recipes are a delight. The writing so clear, so real, an orgy for the senses. And you will want a
'maami' of your very own.
Memoir writing at its best!

Shoba Narayan's "Monsoon Diary" is about her memories of growing up in Madras, South India, before immigrating to this country, and, about South Indian food: "A Memoir with Recipes". She delivers on both counts. (You know the author is going to stick to her roots, a true writer from Madras, when she starts by thanking her neighbors: "Prabha-mami, Nagarajan-Mama, Sumathi-ka, Babu-anna, Vijaya-aunty, and Nithya-uncle").
As memoir, it is for me, an immigrant from Madras, what "Midnight's Children" is for immigrants from Bombay: stories of growing up there, scenes of life in the city, and intimate portraits of family and friends. She transported me to familiar events and landmarks in Madras: Mardi Gras at IIT, Pondy Bazaar, Alsa Mall, WCC, Music Academy, Grand Sweets, Adyar Woodlands, Ambika Appalam Depot, Hotel Saravana Bhavan and yes, even Naidu Hall ("famous for its bras and "nighties," airy nightgowns made from the softest cotton").
Narayan, a recipient of the M.F.K. Fisher award for distinguished writing, writes well about idli-sambar and rasam, but when she writes about the art of eating off a banana leaf at South Indian weddings, and riffs on the real soul of South Indian food (largely still unfamiliar to most foodies), she does for Madras what Calvin Trillin does for New York City -you want to go there right now and eat it all: puli-kaachal, vatral kuzhambu, agathi keerai, murunga kai keerai, sojji-bajji, bonda-burfi, thaiyru saadam, narthangai uruga, upma, venn-pongal, murukkus, and cheedai. But don't be intimidated by this list; according to the author's mother-in-law, only "Three things are dear to a South Indian's heart: Hot Coffee, good yogurt, and pickles."
Narayan gives an engaging account of her new life in the USA, which takes her to college at Mount Holyoke, Massachusetts; then Delton, Michigan; Boston; Taos, New Mexico; Memphis, Tennessee; Connecticut; and New York City.
Her book includes 21 recipes including some of the items mentioned above. Portions of this book first appeared, in part, as pieces published in "Gourmet," "House Beautiful," "Saveur," "The New York Times," and in "Beliefnet" on the web.
"Monsoon Diary" will fit in well on my shelf right next to my favorite memoir about Madras and writing: "My Days," by R.K. Narayan (no kin to the author).

Ms Narayan's first attempt is a good starter, keeps the reader engaged and has some good descriptions of culture and background. As someone coming from the same culture/background though i was able to see that she has been quite liberally creative in some areas..and given the # of readers who think this is an accurate description of culture - i want to clarify a few things...

1 The author's story appears to have been set in 90s-early 2000s. Indian cabbies (and passengers!!) are a dime a dozen in NYC during this time. She talks of a cabbie who is so carried away by a passenger from his part of the world that he gives up his fare, takes her and her friend home, feeds them and drops them home, like he never gets to drive any passenger from his part of the world.Totally unrealistic, unless something happened that we don't know of. Just simply put you get a nod or a few words of exchange in your native tongue with a cabbie from your part of the world generally, not this.

2 The average indian middle class brahmin family (or Tambrams as we are commonly called) - do not expect women to cook to judge whether or not they can go abroad on their own. Like it is everywhere some families are liberal and send their kids, some are more conservative and need more persuasion - persuasion commonly comes with some 'male' who can 'take care' of you, like a husband or a brother or someone. Cooking skills are important but no, setting deals with unrelated skills simply do not work, or generally setting deals itself with parents or people in authority rarely works. The author has spun a nice story out of a possible situation she had - by her description of her parents they seem quite liberal and may not have had big objections.

3 I was kinda tickled by some of her descriptions, especially of her grandmother (Nallamma) - who pocketed vegetables when the vendor was not looking (what i would call stealing :) and someone whom the vendors and other people thought was a nightmare/mean person. I appreciate the honesty but if my grandmom was that way i would have scanty respect for her:))

Other than these things, the food descriptions/receipes are good and authentic, and some parts really fun to read.

Knowing very little about the Indian way of life was a motivation for reading this book. I myself have a thirst for knowledge, but this book I felt could have done a better job satisfying that thirst. I felt that this booked lacked a strong focus, and often the recipes were added in awkward moments in the book. I understood the fact that food played a prominent role in her life, and it meant something larger for her than just nutrition. The presentation of this theme within the text didn't always translate that way for me, and I felt like her mentioning food just seemed oddly obsessive on her part.
The book itself is quite conventional, and if the woman in the book were an American, I'm sure it would never have gotten published because it is the typical coming-of-age story. However, as an American, I did find the book quite interesting when it got to the point were where the main character, Shoba, visited America for the first time. I'm constantly evaluating my own culture, but to have a foreigner evaluate it was a breath of fresh air, especially with current events.
Overall, I respect the book because it contains much passion, family love, and cultural insight to some degree, and is a satisfactory educational tool. However, if you are a reader who really enjoys edgy, raw, or original material, I would pass on this book.

How wonderful it was to read a biography during this unsettling time that didn't have the ...and then something terrible happend that made me the way I am.
Shoba Narayan tells her interesitng life story about family and life in India with humor and grace. All those people, all those celebrations, and all that joy!. The cranky American diners certainly gave an interesting, and somewhat embarrassing balance to her experiences. I for one will be watching for further stories and books from this author.

...and I'm not even a huge fan of Indian food!
But this memoir interlaced with exotic vegetarian recipes calling for ingredients I know I'd have trouble finding even in San Francisco's ethnic neighborhoods (it would help if I knew what they looked like), is a delicious international journey of discovery, both internal and gastronomic.
Breaking through many stereotypes we Americans hold concerning Indian food, culture, religion, and famelial traditions (including arranged marriage), Monsoon Diary, full of surprisingly eccentric characters, will surely stand the test of time, nestling on cookbook shelves as well among sociological texts.

A number of years ago, I read a wonderful article in the New York Times by Shoba Narayan about her arranged marriage. She gave remarkable insight into a world I knew little about. I was so pleased to hear about this memoir coming out, I reserved a copy before it was published.
Shoba Narayan's memoir is a rich and tasty experience. Possessing a delightful and witty writing style, one truly gets a sense of Narayans free spirited nature struggling with centuries of tradition. It leaves one with a yearning to dine in Shoba's kitchen, listen to her stories and feel apart of her family and culture which she embraces with warmth and humor. Although I have not yet tried to make the recipes it seems almost as satisfying just reading them.

I'm 3/4 of the way through this book and I find it so aggravating that I decided to see what others think it it. I have to say I'm shocked to read that most people really consider it to be well written. This book seems to be written with a very selective memory that erased the less than happy aspects of growing up and making the transition as an immigrant to a radically different culture. Her memoir is all fairies and light. It's so rose colored and sugar coated that it actually grates on my nerves. The author tends to rely on descriptive word choices that cause her to miss great opportunites to truly paint a picture. More than once she describes a fantastic meal only to end the passage by saying it made her " somnolent." Her vocabulary is educated but it lacks descriptive substance. I'll finish this book only because I hate to leave a book in the middle. Her writing is sophmoric and her account lacks reality. However, the edition I have ( which is different than what is shown here)has a lovely cover with a photo of the author that is beautifully done.

Never mind where you were when you experienced the 'big events' of your life, instead, can you remember what were you eating?

Shoba Nayaran remembers, and delivers those landmark flavors in print. From the comforting memories of her childhood, to the abuse suffered under her first graduate program, to her wedding and subsequent adjustment to married life, Shoba Narayn writes about each significant life event with an even hand, a light sense of humor, and perfectly chosen recipes to accompany every part of her story.

This isn't your traditional cookbook, nor is it a plodding, self-aggrandizing autobiography. It is instead a book that moves along at a fast pace, giving us glimpses of intensely personal moments, but then quickly, breezily moving along to the next topic, the next recipe, the next memory. The reader is never bogged down in this parsimonious trip down memory lane. Instead, we receive exactly what is promised: a memoir with food. (and succulent food at that!)

An excellent read, a fast read, a delicious read.