by Anne Fadiman
ages: adult
First sentence: “If Lia Lee had been born in the highlands of northwest Laos, where her parents and twelve of her brothers and sisters were born, her mother would have squatted on the floor of the house that her father had build from ax-hewn planks attached with bamboo and grass.”

This book is incredibly complex, which makes it a difficult book to write about. It’s a medical tome — I now know more than I ever thought I would (not having any kids with epilepsy) about seizures and medical procedures of the early- to mid-80s. But it’s also a work of cultural observation — I now know more than I ever thought I would about Hmong history, religion, and culture. But what this book is, more than either of those things, is a testament to what happens when good intentions go bad because of cultural differences.

Lia Lee, daughter of Hmong immigrants, was eight months old when she first started seizing. Her parents (somewhat unusually for Hmong, who notoriously don’t trust American doctors), took her to the hospital. And there, her saga starts. There is time after time of misunderstanding, miscommunication (lack of interpreters only played a role in that), and tragedy after tragedy in the life of this little girl. What impressed me most (and this is something that I’ve heard often associated with this book) is that Friedman does an admirable job of portraying both sides — both the doctors’ and the parents’ attempts and efforts at helping Lia get better. I did feel, fairly often, that Friedman was more sympathetic to the Lees’s side of the story, but she does give the doctors (who often come off as arrogant jerks) equal time — both of her own in doing the research as well as in the book.

I often thought while reading it, too, that I was a bit of an outsider. That the people who really ought to be reading this are not lay readers, but rather doctors, social workers, adminstrators: people who could learn from the lessons that Friedman puts out in this book (not that I can’t learn about the Hmong — granted, I don’t know if there are any here in Wichita — but I’m not in a position to put that knowledge to use). It is a fascinating read, though (even if it was one of those dip in-dip out books — read a chapter or two, read a whole other book — types), and the lessons about respect for others’ culture, beliefs and traditions is a valid one.

Love, Laughter and Tears at the World’s Most Famous Cooking School
by Kathleen Flinn
age: adult
First sentence: “As a little girl, while other children played house, I played restaurant.”

When, at age 36, Kathleen Flinn’s mid-level corporate job was eliminated, she was faced with a choice: get another mid-level corporate job somewhere, or… pursue a life-long dream of going to school at the cooking school Le Cordon Bleu in Paris. Encouraged by her boyfriend — who puts his life on hold to move to Paris to be with her — she chooses the latter. This is her story.

Equal parts food book, travel book and memoir, this book totally and completely engrossed me.

I think I liked the food parts best, though. Not only is the book littered with recipes (delicious, gourmet recipes that I will probably never make, but I can dream about), but Kathleen is meticulous with detail about her time in the cooking school. She doesn’t hesitate to tell about her failures (like the time the “Grey Chef” shouted at her, or the time she dropped the roast duck on the floor) but she doesn’t gloat over her successes (like when the head chef of Le Doyen singles her out over her classmates to chat with for 20 minutes). It’s all matter of fact: this happened, she had this amazing experience, she lived this dream, wouldn’t you like to read about it?

But more than the recipes, or even her cooking experiences (I’ve been inundated with French food in books lately; at least here she explains what it all means!), I enjoyed her trips into the Paris markets. The sights, smells, sounds, connections of European markets; it was sensory heaven. And it made me realize (not for the first time) that we’re really missing out with grocery stores here in the States…

I did enjoy the other aspects of the book, too: I liked her tales of the many house guests (even the horrible ones; they were good for a cringe and a laugh) they had while living in Paris; I liked the love story between her and Mike (whom she met and fell into a relationship before Paris), and their whirlwind marriage. I liked her relationships with her classmates, the different personalities and expectations and goals of each person.

It did get a bit too life-preachy for me, especially near the end, where Flinn was trying to make some Big Moral out of her experience, when I would have been happier with her experience as is, without the life morals. But, that said, there’s always something inspiring about people who leave the corporate track and do Something Different with their lives, pursuing a dream and, ultimately, succeeding. And that Flinn spins a good tale about her experience is just a happy bonus.