23 Jul Book Review of Food Person
Book Review: Food Person by Michael Roberts
Have you ever picked up a book simply because you felt an inexplicable pull towards its premise? That’s how I felt when I stumbled upon Food Person by Michael Roberts, a novel that promised a rich blend of food, self-discovery, and unexpected relationships. As someone who finds equal joy in experimenting in the kitchen and indulging in heartfelt narratives, I was instantly hooked.
At the heart of Food Person lies Isabella Pasternak, a quirky twenty-five-year-old food writer whose love for cookbooks rivals even the most dedicated smartphone addict. I figured it would be just another story of a culinary dreamer, but what I found was an intricately layered tale that deftly navigates themes of ambition, authenticity, and emotional healing. Isabella, facing the fallout from a catastrophic soufflé demonstration at her job, takes on the challenging role of ghostwriting for Molly Babcock—a fallen starlet looking to reclaim her narrative through cooking.
Roberts crafts Isabella with a nuanced authenticity, her social awkwardness born from genuine insecurities rather than mere eccentricity. Her poignant relationship with food serves as a lens through which we explore her character. I found myself smiling at her revelation that the magic of "the perfect scrambled eggs" stemmed not just from technique, but from a deeper understanding of care and love. Roberts captures this beautifully, making food an emotional refuge in Isabella’s tumultuous journey.
Equally compelling is the transformation of Molly Babcock. Initially portrayed as a shallow celebrity, Roberts reveals her complexity through the layers of trauma and grief she navigates. Her struggles symbolize the broader human experience, and I appreciated how her journey—especially her relationship with food—served as a metaphor for nurturing oneself. The pivotal moment involving the pimento cheese soufflé was nothing short of breathtaking, symbolizing Molly’s attempt to connect with her lost mother and reclaim parts of herself.
The supporting cast breathes life into the narrative as well. Owen, Isabella’s best friend and roommate, avoids the cliché of the “gay best friend” trope; instead, he is presented with depth, ambition, and even flaws. This genuine representation enhances the authenticity of their world, a quality Roberts excels at as he navigates the culinary landscape with lived-in details that avoid the pitfalls of overt research.
Roberts’s writing style is a feast in itself, deftly balancing humor with emotional moments. Each sentence feels purposeful, pulling you into the sensory details of cooking, while the dialogue is natural and richly characterized. I found myself chuckling at Isabella’s witty observations, yet also pausing to reflect on the deeper themes of self-worth and ambition woven throughout the narrative.
While Food Person serves up a delightful entrée of insights, there are moments it could have simmered a tad longer. Some sections felt slightly repetitive, particularly during Isabella’s interactions with Molly. Yet, despite these minor pacing hiccups, the emotional core of the story kept me captivated. The resolution felt a bit rushed, yet the final reveal left me hopeful, suggesting that understanding and reconciliation are not only possible but transformative.
I wholeheartedly recommend Food Person to anyone who enjoys a richly woven narrative steeped in food culture, character-driven storytelling, and the exploration of what it means to seek recognition in a world that often overlooks genuine talent. As I closed the book, I reflected on my own relationship with food—not just as sustenance but as a vital language of love and healing. For anyone who has ever found themselves in the kitchen seeking solace, this book will likely resonate deeply.
So, grab your favorite cookbook and settle in with Food Person. You might find that, just like a well-cooked dish, it offers layers of flavor and meaning that linger long after the final page.
