by William Shakespeare
ages: adult
First sentence: “I learn in this letter that Don Pedro of Arragon comes this night to Messina.”
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What does one say about this Shakespeare play? Good question.

How about…

It’s got some of the best bantering passages ever written in the dialogue between Beatrice and Benedick. One of my favorites, near the end:

Benedick: And I pray the now tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?
Beatrice: For them all together, which maintain’d so politic a state of evil that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them. But for which of my good parts did you first suffer love for me?
Benedick: Suffer love! a good epithite! I do suffer love indeed, for I love thee against my will.
Beatrice: In spite of your heart, I think. Alas, poor heart, if you spite it for my sake, I will spitie it for yours, for I will never love that which my friend hates.
Benedick: Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.

It’s a silly play, but not nearly as silly as some of Shakespeare’s other plays. Hubby’s always said Shakespeare had about 45 minutes of good material, and then had to write a play around that.

It’s pretty accessible as a play — and for reading a play, it wasn’t half-bad either — I watched a BBC version (I know: I adore the Branagh version, too, but I watched that separate from reading it), and by the end, both M and C were curious about what was going on.

The men in the play are infuriating. Absolutely infuriating. I was yelling at the book/movie at one point. I mean really: Hero’s own father didn’t believe that she was set up??

Don Juan is a thankless character. (Especially when Keanu plays him.) I don’t understand his motivations, and what he does is really low-brow rather than vindictive. A pox on him.

That said, it’s a fun play, an enjoyable play, and one definitely worth reading/seeing. Especially in the summertime.

by Eva Ibbotson
ages: adult
First sentence: “In a way they were born to be aunts.”
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There is so much to absolutely love about this book. It’s a World War II story, yes, but it’s so much more than that. It’s lyrical. It’s evocative. It’s earthy and soaring at the same time. It’s a simple, yet poignant, love story.

It’s practically perfect in nearly every way.

Ellen is the product of some very intimidating women. Charlotte (Ellen’s mother), Phyllis and Annie are strong women, suffragettes, unafraid, and they expect grand things from their clever little girl. Except, Ellen grows up adoring her grandfather’s housekeeper, the Austrian Henny, and ends up more interested in cooking and cleaning than philosophy and being clever. She eventually bags going to University altogether, and instead graduates from the Lucy Hatton School of Cookery and heads off to Austria to become the matron at a boarding school there.

This is the story of her summer.

It’s a magical summer: not magical in the sense of magic, or even magical realism; no, it’s just magical in the sense that everything falls into place. Ellen works wonders on the children — each unique in their own way — and the staff — again, unique — in her small, subtle, and infinitely wonderful ways. She weaves her way into their lives and makes everything… better. It’s also a love story, for she meets Marek, the groundsman with a secret. And as the secret unfolds, we are taken on a musical journey that literally soars. Sure, it’s all make-believe, but Ibbotson’s writing is so tactile, you can almost hear the concerts, listening to the music float off the page.

While the war is in the background in part one, it does play more of a role in part two. Thankfully, it’s not as long as part one, even though it covers more time. It’s almost anti-climatic, though part one ends in such a cliffhanger that it feels necessary to finish the tale. And even though the second part is not as strong or as lyrical as part one, it does make the book come full circle, and ends it in a very lovely place.

And, really, you can’t get much better than that.

by Erica Bauermeister
ages: adult
First sentence: “Lillian loved best the moment before she turned on the lights.”
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The food book — whether it be a novel or a memoir (or whatever other category that food books falls into — can be a truly wonderful experience. If you get a writer that is evocative enough, descriptive enough, then you can be transported away to another place, another time, and delight in the feast for the senses. It’s the best kind of escapism, and when you combine the essence of food with a mystical magical power, there is the possibility of truly getting carried away.

Which is why, I think, I had high hopes for this one. The cover is gorgeous, the title inviting. The story, simple enough to let the food shine. Lillian, is a master chef who never works with recipes, preferring, instead, to find her own combinations, unique to the day, the person, the mood she wants to evoke. She runs a cooking school, teaching these essential principles: smell, savor, enjoy. Each chapter is a profile of a different student in the session, which is both a plus and a minus. Plus, because we get to know each person individually, their histories, their reactions to the different food. Minus, because it detracts from an overarching story. It was more like a series of connected short stories, and because of that, I felt unfulfilled when the story was over. It was kind of like The Jane Austen Book Club, in that way; except, I think that book handled the balance between the individual stories and an overarching plot better. I did come to like some of of the characters — the new mother Claire, or the Italian Antonia, or the geeky Ian — but it seemed that once their story was done, Bauermeister didn’t quite know what to do with them, and pushed them out of the picture.

But, all that would have been forgiven if the food had been worth it. And sometimes it was. Sometimes, like in the spaghetti chapter, I could almost smell the food, longing to taste it and savor the experience. Other times, like the white cake chapter, I felt like the person’s story overwhelmed the food, and I came away wanting more. More savoring, more magic, more experience. More food. There can never be enough food.

But then, sometimes even the best food can leave one unsatisfied.