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 Bess of Hardwick wasn’t born to privilege. The daughter of a relatively small landlord, she rose to high status slowly and purposefully. Placed in high status houses, she married four men and outlived all of them. She also outlived three monarchs and built a number of houses, the most prestigious of which is Hardwick Hall in Derbyshire. She became one of the richest and most powerful women in Elizabethan and early Stuart England, a time when women were still chattel, and died wealthy, in a house that she herself had constructed, after a long and productive life.
My first encounter with Bess of Hardwick was in the novel A Woman of Passion by Virginia Henley. I was still in my initial romance novel stage of reading, and much of that particular novel is romantic, but it really led me to be curious about the woman behind the fiction, the actual Bess of Hardwick. It also ends when she marries Shrewsbury, or so I recall, which leaves plenty of interesting years completely without mention. Then just recently I visited Hardwick Hall myself and was reminded of why I was so interested in her. The house itself is ridiculously impressive, with its huge windows, imposing winding staircases, and immense visiting halls. I wanted to know more, and so when I saw this book in the library, I decided it was time.
On first impression, I was actually amazed at how easy this was to read. I love history, but it does take longer to read and naturally provokes more thought than an average fiction novel, at least for me. This, though, was so interesting and enjoyable that I actually found myself going well beyond my daily page targets because I just was so curious about what happened next. Bess’s childhood is mostly skimmed over, of necessity really since very little information is available about her specifically. Instead, the author regales us with all sorts of interesting information about Tudor childhoods in general and Bess’s family in particular. I knew some of it, but not all of it, and I was completely fascinated, as I was with most of the book.
Lovell then goes on to talk about Bess’s various marriages, her children, and her gradual rise to power and prominence. She quotes from plenty of letters, although mostly from others to Bess, and keeps everything in a neat and tidy timeline so that it’s easy to trace Bess’s life from start to finish. There are plenty of details and documentation, and she does argue with the generally accepted historical record sometimes – including denouncing some of my favorites, those pesky historical “facts” which seem to have no basis in actual documentation. These are generally started by a historian somewhere along the way (usually in the 19th century) who of course did not name his sources and probably just made up that particular fact. There is no way of actually knowing if it’s true or not, so it’s best to stick with what we actually do know. So the book was not just an entertaining biography, but intellectually stimulating as well.
Bess of Hardwick brought home to me how much I miss history with its fascinating portrait of a woman who proved her worth over and over again. Undoubtedly Bess would have been the CEO of some humongous corporation these days, but in her own time she was a clever, enchanting woman who made her money work for her, loved her husbands and children, and generally proves everyone who denounces Tudor women wrong. I would enthusiastically recommend this book to anyone who enjoys history, especially Tudor history.
I am an Amazon Associate. I borrowed this book from my local library.
 Empress Wu was the first woman in Chinese history to become a reigning empress. Getting there wasn’t easy; as a lower concubine, which she became at the age of 13, Wu was little more than a servant, and would have been banished to a convent forever on the death of Emperor Taizong. Luckily for her, she encountered his son Gaozong before his death, and Gaozong became enamored with her, taking her from the convent and eventually replacing his current empress with her. With that mission accomplished, Wu set forth on her goal to achieve recognition for herself and, in some ways, for all Chinese women; her methods may have been brutal, but so was the time in which she lived.
Anyone who thinks the Tudors are exciting and scandalous should try on the 7th century Chinese for a change! I was frankly amazed at all the drama, scandal, and murder that went on in this court and over the course of the book. It’s fairly well documented but even so, I’m quite shocked that other people can treat each other so badly and not really seem to notice. This book was nothing short of exciting, especially for non-fiction; it’s no wonder that Wu’s life has been depicted in writing and in film a number of times over the years.
I didn’t know too much about Wu to start with; I had never read anything about her, but after I finished Under Heaven I set out looking for non-fiction about the same time period. This is set a number of years before, but the events herein had a large impact on the following history, so I just went with this book. Let me tell you, my interest in Chinese history is properly rewarding. Wu was a completely fascinating woman and I’m surprised that we have so much information on someone who lived so long ago. I can place her nicely in the context of Europe and I’m amazed at how different the cultures are.
I was also surprised at how many things were the same in China as they would be in the late nineteenth century. Now, I haven’t read any non-fiction about that period yet, but just from reading Empress Orchid I recognized the huge palaces, the tropes of different levels of concubines with different names brought in purposely to please the emperor, the huge amount of ceremonial events, and of course the endless intrigue.
What I loved most about this book, however, was easily Clements’s even-handed treatment of Wu and all of her cronies. Yes, she did some pretty terrible things; there were some more terrible things she might have done or her relatives might have done under her name; and then there were good things that she did. For example, she murdered the Empress before her and a rival concubine by drowning them in wine after dismembering them. She also may have conveniently offed her kids. That’s pretty bad, and I don’t think anyone is going to absolve her of those crimes. But she also raised the profile of women by increasing the mourning time for mothers and insisting on incorporating female halves of traditionally male ceremonies. Yes, she was ruthless and furthered her own ambitions, but she also did her part to make women important, too.
I also loved at the end how Clements stepped back and looked at Wu’s behavior in light of other, male emperors, and came to the conclusion that she behaved similarly to them. She had lots of lovers, she killed her enemies, but China prospered under her rule. Men who behaved just like that were regarded as heroes, while she has been regularly vilified throughout history. Is it just because a woman had the daring to act like a man?
I don’t know, but I like historians who question prejudice about women. Murder is never a good thing, but should a woman be condemned for it more than a man? I don’t think so.
Anyway, I’ll just conclude by highly recommending Wu. I think the subtitle (the Chinese empress who schemed, seduced, and murdered her way to become a living God) isn’t so good, but the book itself is just excellent.
I am an Amazon Associate. I borrowed this book from my local library – but you can bet I’ll be buying this guy’s other books.
 There are more things in Australia that can kill you than anywhere else, so how could Bill Bryson ever keep away from writing a travel memoir about the country? In his travels from coast to coast and several places in between, Bryson both entertains and informs us about a place that, for its size and place in the world, we know surprisingly little about.
Bill Bryson is a delightful writer and I almost wish I’d discovered him sooner! Down Under is my first proper travel book by him and I can’t tell you how eager I am to read more. It’s true that I know very little about Australia, so much of the information he shared was completely new to me. In my job, I’ve done some writing about Australia, but mainly about tourism; it was fascinating to have the historical perspective given to me so I could set it aside my knowledge of the country’s more hospitable places.
My favorite parts of the memoir were generally when he was exploring the middle, largely uninhabitable parts of the country. It’s hard to believe just how many expeditions were launched there – and equally hard to believe that the Australians haven’t managed to spread across such a vast amount of land. Yet with Bryson writing, I could feel the dust and the heat and I am pretty sure I now know why no one really wants to live there; not only is it far from every amenity but there’s truly no purpose to eking a life out in such difficult conditions.
I like that Bryson seems to travel in the same way that I do; I’d struggle to really identify with someone who does things I’d never experience. As it is, Australia is expensive, and I won’t go there for years if ever, so I could almost feel like I was experiencing things through his eyes. He chats with people, visits monuments that I’d visit, and at the same time shares the fascinating history and culture of the country. I can’t imagine a better honorary tour guide. I wouldn’t have minded some pictures, but he writes well enough that I could picture the locations in my head – or just look online, as I did several times – easily enough.
What truly disturbed me overall was the treatment of native Australians – a problem that lies more with the Australian government than with Bryson. I was appalled to learn about the Stolen Generations and even more saddened to discover that many Aboriginal Australians drift through life, missing out on schools and jobs or any parts of modern life. It’s even sadder to hear the way that white Australians have simply given up and don’t know what to do about it. I almost wish Bryson had brought this more to the forefront of the book, rather than asking about it occasionally and being stymied, but I’m not sure what else he could have done, especially not if he aimed to keep the tone of the rest of the book light and funny as he did.
Anyway, I thought Down Under was an excellent read. It certainly helped me get a broader picture of Australia and educated me in some senses at the same time. I can’t wait to read more by Bill Bryson.
In the US, this book is titled In a Sunburned Country. I am an Amazon Associate. I borrowed this book from my local library.
 John Sutherland grew up fatherless after his father died in an aviation accident while training for combat in World War II. (Did you know they allowed a 5% mortality rate in training for war? No? I didn’t either.) He grew up virtually motherless as well, since his mother was determined to live her life as she saw fit, whether that involved living in Argentina, sleeping with American soldiers, or leaving John to relatives on a regular basis. Throughout his childhood, John sought refuge in one thing, books. He lived and breathed the classics, ignoring his assigned work for his own personal choices. When he got older, John also found solace in alcohol, and the two remained standbys for much of his life.
I’m a bit torn about this one. I think I liked the concept more than the execution. I love the idea of a memoir about someone’s life in books, and this one promised that books saved Sutherland’s life twice. I didn’t really get much of that from the book, though, and overall it was much more just a life story than a life story in books. There are plenty of literary references, sure, and he does mention what he’s reading at times, but I think the entire book was hampered by the fact that I didn’t find John’s life particularly interesting otherwise and, more importantly, I didn’t really like John.
I can’t understand the pain of growing up without a parent, much less the pain of growing up pretty much without either of them, so I can’t speak on personal experience. I do think it’s understandable that he would struggle emotionally as a result. But some of his attitudes just failed to match mine so spectacularly that it made it hard for me to relate to him. As an example, John rarely read books for school on purpose. He hated assigned reading so, even though he was perfectly capable of understanding assigned texts and doing really well in school, he generally performed poorly on pretty much every exam he was ever given. This attitude follows him throughout his childhood, even though he must see that his grandparents and even his mother struggle along on a rock bottom basic education. He has opportunities – his mother pays for him to go to great schools – and he just throws them away. I’ve never really understood people who do this.
The worst part about it is that he then goes on to become a professor, just because there are so many positions and so few takers! It seemed wrong to me that someone who mostly disdained school throughout his life can then go on to have the best job in the whole system. I shouldn’t be so harsh, though, as people can change, and his eventual university education does leave a mark on him. I could more easily understand his willingness to bury himself in drink, but I was glad when he gave it up.
The other big problem I had was with John’s mother, who I think was the reason in large part he struggled through childhood. She more or less completely ignores him, pawning him off on relatives and friends, especially when she has a man around. She pays his way through life but seems hardly ever emotionally invested; it’s clear that John adores her but that seems mostly based around her beauty and her determination to have her own way, even at the expense of his own happiness. I can see that up to a point, but abandoning your child for three years while you go to live in Argentina? I don’t see that so much.
What I did enjoy was the historical background and the brilliant depiction of Britain throughout John’s younger years. He talks about things that were already disappearing, like quiet times fishing with his grandfather, and the history of Colchester (the town he mostly grows up in) and its schools. He’s undoubtedly a very good writer and I think he could pull off a novel if he tried, especially if he set it in the places he knows best.
The Boy Who Loved Books definitely had issues, but Sutherland is a good writer. If you can ignore the aspects I had problems with, I think this would be a good choice.
I am an Amazon Associate. I borrowed this book from my local library.
 Orchid’s family is of ancient Manchurian lineage, but they are dirt poor throughout her childhood. When her father dies, things get even worse, and she is forced to move to Peking with her mother, brother, and sister to live in a small house with her uncle’s family. Orchid starts work in a shoe shop and actually enjoys herself, mainly for the tales her boss tells her about the Forbidden City and the emperor’s many palaces. When Orchid is told that she must marry her slovenly, stupid cousin, though, she seeks refuge from her fate in a contest to become one of the young emperor’s new favorite concubines. Orchid finds herself chosen, but her world in the imperial palace is nothing like she’d imagined.
After the disappointment that was Katherine, I tempered my hopes for Empress Orchid. I would probably have waited a bit longer before reading it, but it was due back at the library and I had no choice. Besides that, I immediately wanted to read more about China, and particularly a book that was based on historical fact, after Under Heaven. I needn’t have worried about starting it so soon, though, because I thoroughly enjoyed this book and was completely fascinated by not only the characters portrayed within but also the entire Chinese culture that Min effortlessly depicts.
Orchid’s life in the book goes through a series of phases (and is picked up in the next volume, The Last Empress, which I have yet to read). She is first a pauper, a girl who would be beautiful if only she could actually eat once in a while or wear a pretty dress. She’s devastated by her father’s death, but that doesn’t stop her from seizing the opportunity to become the emperor’s concubine. Then she discovers life in the palace isn’t all it’s cracked up to be – after all, the emperor can have literally any woman he wants. He’s a spoiled brat convinced that he has the mandate of heaven, so Orchid (then Lady Yehonala) ceases to matter to him as soon as his gaze has drifted elsewhere.
After a bit of research on the internet, I’ve discovered that Anchee Min is actually a lot more sympathetic to Orchid than history has been. Here she’s depicted as a fairly wise woman who loves her son, loves her “husband”, and is much cleverer than anyone wants to give her credit for. I loved the politics involved in the book and I was fascinated by the extreme protocol of the Chinese court. It wasn’t as racy as I’d suspected either; the whole seduction part is a tiny fragment of the book. It’s much more about China’s collision with the rest of the world, the attitudes of the royal family to Orchid and towards the world, and about Orchid herself.
Empress Orchid was incredibly engaging and I would whole-heartedly recommend it to anyone interested in historical fiction or China. I am definitely going to read the sequel, The Last Empress, and seek out more books about this time period in the future.
I am an Amazon Associate. I borrowed this book from my local library.
 When she was a child, Grace was attacked and bitten by werewolves. She was only saved by the intervention of a yellow-eyed wolf, who has continued to watch her progress throughout her life. Now 17, Grace is making her way through high school but maintains a strange feeling of kinship with “her wolf”. When she meets a boy, Sam, with those same yellow eyes, Grace immediately feels drawn to him, especially when she realizes that he truly is a werewolf. As they fall in love, Grace and Sam struggle to find a way to be together before he turns into a wolf permanently.
I really, really wish I had liked this book more than I did! I’ve had a number of comments already from people who just loved this book and I was really looking forward to it. I think in this case, expectations really ruined the book for me. With the use of the word “chilling” on the cover and the fact that it was a book about werewolves, and that was more or less all I knew, I guess I expected it to be creepier. Or at least creepy somehow. Instead, “chilling” referred to the fact that winter’s cold turns the werewolves into their wolf selves. I felt a bit misled and perhaps if I’d paid more attention to reviews beforehand, I wouldn’t have been particularly annoyed.
As it was, this book is basically a teenage paranormal romance. As I was reading it, I could tell that my sixteen year old self would have been head over heels for it. But since I expected more, or at least something else, I wound up disappointed – I often do when I think I’m reading something and it turns into something else. The romance was sweet enough but it was clearly predetermined from the beginning and the story didn’t really have any twists that set it apart from a regular romance novel. I’m fine with all of these things when I know they’re happening, but for some reason this book and I didn’t click at all. Many of the scenes were slow-moving, focusing on just Sam and Grace and their developing relationship. There was a bit of drama focusing on Grace’s friends and a boy that goes after the wolves, but I was just reminded a little too much of what it was like to be a teenager.
I also really disliked how absent minded Grace’s parents were. It really brought home to me how much this is a flaw in YA books; I found it hard to believe a father could just forget his small daughter in a car days after she’d been violently attacked by werewolves! And what parents would miss the fact that their house was now inhabited by another person, sleeping in their daughter’s bed? It’s hard to believe parents could claim to love their child and then completely ignore everything she does. I’m sure they’re out there, but Grace’s parents just annoyed me every time they appeared in a scene.
Regardless of my disappointments, I still felt that the book was well-written, with Sam and Grace having distinct voices that made it easy for me to tell the difference between them. Stiefvater’s prose is lovely, with a number of gorgeous descriptions – that special part of the woods comes to mind immediately and I wish I had the book with me to quote it. I would certainly be interested in reading another book by her, but I think for once I’ll investigate a little more about the plot before I commit myself.
Would I recommend Shiver? I don’t know; probably not to someone who expected a creepier book! But I do think people who enjoy paranormal romance (or Twilight) would like it, as attested by its popularity.
I am an Amazon Associate. I borrowed this book from my local library.
 Bill Bryson grew up in 1950s America, on record as one of the happiest decades in American history (at least for white people – I’m pretty sure they were the only ones surveyed at the time). And his childhood is equally nostalgic and idyllic, full of boyish fun like locking all the stalls in the bathroom and peeing on Lincoln Logs to see them turn white. Bryson doesn’t skimp on the harsher issues of the time, though, even though he didn’t experience them, covering the difficult aspects of the fifties like atomic bombs, widespread unhealthy behavior, and unrelenting racism and prejudice.
This was the first book I read by Bill Bryson. I knew about his popularity, but I still wasn’t really sure what to expect besides a funny memoir. I definitely got that and then some. At first, I was a little concerned that the book was going to be all about his childhood, especially when he introduced the joke of the Thunderbolt Kid, and paint an idyllic image that didn’t accurately represent the truth of the period. He didn’t, though; he recognizes all the problems that the country had even though he depicts his own childhood through the rose-colored glasses of nostalgia. For example, he idolizes his mother even though he acknowledges the clear difficulties she must have had while working, raising three children, and still being responsible for everything around the house. He discusses the fact that women were relegated mostly to the home – in a number of states it was actually illegal for a married woman to work. He cherishes all that she does, but he seems to acknowledge that it must have been much too difficult for her.
Bryson’s life feels very much like small town America even though he actually grew up in a city – Des Moines, Iowa. Everything is in walking distance – the sweet shop, the three different elaborate movie theaters, his parents’ newspaper offices, and so on. All the kids hung out outside pretty much all day in the summer in huge groups, something that never seems to happen these days. My own parents, who are a little bit younger than Bryson, have also commented on this. It wasn’t really necessary for the kids to be driven anywhere to have fun because they could get pretty much wherever they wanted. Bryson even had the first job of the typical American kid – he’s a paperboy, in the richest section of town because his father was important at the paper. From his own experience, it’s hard to be surprised that Americans supposedly reached the peak of happiness in 1957. For the first time, many people could afford things they’d only dreamed about and even some things they hadn’t.
But he also talks about the bad parts of the 50s. Cigarettes were healthy, atomic and hydrogen bomb explosions had an audience, and additives were injected into food for mostly the first time. Everything seemed blissful, but the problems that were set to continue affecting Americans up to this day were still happening. As a kid, though, Bryson thought everyone seemed cheerful about it. He got along just fine with kids of other races and the problems that the rest of the world experienced passed him by.
The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid was a very enjoyable memoir that I thought effectively covered both the author’s childhood and the wider issues going on in the country at the time. It was the perfect mix of personal and national issues with a fantastic touch of humor. I’m really looking forward to reading more by Bill Bryson.
I am an Amazon Associate. I borrowed this book from my local library.
 We all know who Barack Obama is now, but how did he get here? What motivated him? From his childhood in Hawaii and Indonesia to his rougher college years and on to his time as a community organizer in Chicago, Obama writes eloquently and compellingly about serious issues that we all wish were in the past already, like racism, suffering, and poverty.
Yep, I voted for Barack Obama. And I’m still quite proud that we, a country still astonishingly full of racism in so many ways, managed to elect a black man to the Presidency. So ever since then, I’ve been very curious about where he came from and how he got to the point where it was reasonable that he might become President. Unfortunately this book doesn’t go quite that far and ends right before he heads to law school, so his final motivations remain unclear. But I think this memoir is valuable for a lot of the things he says but also because it was written before he ever thought to go that far, and as such I think he is somewhat more candid about his life than he would have otherwise been – he mentions drug use numerous times, for example.
I enjoyed how this particular memoir followed a narrative path. Obama acknowledges in the foreword that he changed the names of people he knew and sometimes melded them together to make for an easier reading experience, which at first I wasn’t sure I liked but I’m sure those people are grateful for it now. I definitely felt like I was on a journey, from the moment he realized that he looked different from his mother and grandparents for the first time, to the idolization of his father, to his eventual success and work on behalf of poor black communities in Chicago. I was impressed by how well the memoir was organized and written; it’s also a bit more academic and thoughtful in structure than I would imagine most memoirs written by political figures to be. He doesn’t talk much about his truly personal life – he almost never mentions relationships with women – and I appreciated that a lot.
I was also surprised by how clearly I recognized his narrative voice. I was impressed by how he could reflect on his own experiences and apply them to the wider world – how he was confused as a black teenager and in some way identifies with the teens of Chicago but also recognizes that he was more privileged than them. He can acknowledge the faults of his family members even as it’s obvious how deeply he loved them. I was surprisingly depressed by his experiences in Chicago and saddened by the situation that poor black families found themselves in, with little kids living in houses full of asbestos and public officials lying about its presence. And I was astonished at the stigma that a mixed race couple experienced when he was in his twenties. I have never understood such discrimination and it truly makes me sad when love is dismissed by society because it doesn’t look like the norm.
I truly believe that even people who are the opposite side of the political divide will gain value from this book. It’s not political at all – which is why I chose this one and not his other book – and it is a surprisingly compelling story of a confused boy growing into a man who wants to help people. His life story is fascinating and I was particularly intrigued by the parts of the book set in Kenya and Indonesia, two places I’d never really thought about in depth. Obama’s outsider understanding of these cultures helped mark them out for me and gave me a lot to think about. I am very glad I read Dreams From My Father and I’ve only touched on a few of the many parts of this book that made me think – it’s a valuable memoir that I fully enjoyed reading.
I am an Amazon Associate. I borrowed this book from my local library. They like Barack Obama in the UK.
 Bee Rowlatt is a BBC journalist looking for an Iraqi woman to interview. She’s married to a journalist, has two little girls, and leads a fairly normal life in London. May Witwit is an English professor living in Iraq, teaching things like freedom and democracy to female students who have never had those privileges. When Bee gets into contact with May, they start emailing each other and soon develop an incredibly close relationship. As the danger to May escalates, Bee’s worry overcomes her and the friends hatch a plan to get May and her husband out of Baghdad for good.
I loved this book in so many different ways. It was eye-opening, poignant, and just flat out amazing. I’m not even sure I can effectively review it – I kind of just want everyone to read it right this minute.
The book is not really a memoir, it’s just a record of every email sent between Bee and May over the course of two years, during which they meet, grow close enough to call one another sisters, and desperately try to get May out of her life-threatening situation. It’s also not at all about Jane Austen, but I didn’t particularly care. May is an English professor and that’s about as far as it goes – but the title isn’t what is important here.
At first it was the differences between their lives that struck me – both are intelligent women with incredibly vivid personalities, but location has its effects. Bee’s biggest problems are that her girls frustrate her and she has fights with her husband occasionally, especially when he goes on work trips for weeks. She has laundry to do, meals to cook, and works part-time. Her life was so familiar to me, which put it in even more vivid contrast with May’s life.
May is at risk every single day. Bombs drop next door to her house, her friends and colleagues are killed, and her life is personally threatened. She could die at any moment and Bee often expresses the worry that she might just never hear from May again. Because her husband is a Sunni and their marriage has ostracized them from their families, she has to support them both. In times of danger, he simply can’t leave the house. The obstacles that prevent them from even emigrating to a neighboring country are absolutely immense and often ridiculous. May actually laments that things were more organized when Saddam was in control, which I just couldn’t believe.
There was some political comment in the book, of course – May hates the Americans’ presence and feels they’ve made her life worse, which made me so sad, but I could unfortunately see her point. I think anyone would hate the people who brought danger and war to their doorstep, no matter how well-meaning. The asylum issue was mentioned again and as usual the women establish that it’s virtually impossible to attain asylum in the UK, especially because you have to get there to do it and they won’t let you in if you’re actually claiming asylum. They go the academia route instead and try to get May out with a student visa so she can do her PhD.
I just loved the relationship that developed between the two women – it felt so real to me. They also sometimes talk on the phone or send text messages, which left unfortunate little gaps in the narrative. I was greedy for all of their contact, really. It was incredible to read about two women with entirely different life experiences just connecting. I feel like this sort of story can go a long way towards reminding us that we’re all people, no matter what religion or skin color – it genuinely doesn’t matter, and I wish that it didn’t in reality to so many.
I think what I can’t sum up so easily is that Talking About Jane Austen in Baghdad moved me incredibly. I was cheering for May the whole way and at times I could easily have broken into tears. Their story was just amazing and I hope that more people read it and learn that the differences between us aren’t really so immense after all.
I am an Amazon Associate. I borrowed this book from my local library.
 Vanilla is one of the world’s most delicious flavors. It also happens to be one of the most complex and difficult to harvest. The vanilla orchid not only requires manual fertilization outside of its native swathe of Mexico but also has a long and complex drying process that lasts months. As a result, the vanilla bean is an incredibly expensive and desired substance. Tim Ecott journeys to all the places where vanilla is grown, interviewing farmers, buyers, and connoseuirs alongside his telling of the history of this intriguing flavor that is anything but boring.
Vanilla is actually one of my favorite flavors and I’ve been curious about it for a few months now. Last August I visited the Eden Project in Cornwall where they have a vanilla vine and a short description of the intensive process that is required just to get the flowers to bear fruit, then to cure and dry them for general consumption. This book definitely satisfied my curiosity and provided a totally readable and full account of everything I’d ever wanted to know about vanilla.
Tim Ecott’s background is in journalism; he worked for the BBC and his job took him to many of the places he wrote about in the book. It’s something of a travelogue as many of the world’s vacation hotspots are also great climates for the vanilla plant. He visits Mauritius, Reunion, Madagascar, Tahiti, and Mexico in his search for the background of this plant. I could tell straightaway he was a journalist because his interviews read like exactly that; he doesn’t excel quite so much at the narrative non-fiction. I think I was spoiled by The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks. But regardless, the story he has to tell is vastly interesting and I was fascinated by the surprisingly complex politics that happen around vanilla growing, curing, and selling.
He doesn’t spare on the history; we learn all about how the Mexicans first used vanilla, how it made its way to Europe, and finally how Europeans transplanted it to their warmer island possessions. Ecott reveals the story of the first person to learn how to manually fertilize vanilla and the background on all the different varieties, plus the competition between genuine vanilla and artificial vanillin, which isn’t as good but is what you’ll find in cheaper vanilla-flavored products. Also, I never knew that Coca Cola had vanilla in it, but it seems that most cola soft drinks do. Just one interesting fact I’ll be taking away from this book.
One warning though, you’ll be intensely wanting vanilla ice cream throughout the book! Overall, I was thrilled that Tim Ecott made the provenance and current status of my favorite flavor into a great book. He’s proved that vanilla isn’t as boring as people claim, but actually has a rich history and complex chemistry that rivals any artificial taste out there. Vanilla would be a perfect read for anyone interested in food, especially desserts.
 Weekend Cooking is hosted by Beth Fish Reads. From her blog:
Weekend Cooking is open to anyone who has any kind of food-related post to share: Book (novel, nonfiction) reviews, cookbook reviews, movie reviews, recipes, random thoughts, gadgets, fabulous quotations, photographs. If your post is even vaguely foodie, feel free to grab the button and link up anytime over the weekend. Please link to your specific post, not your blog’s home page. For more information, see the welcome post.
While this book didn’t have any recipes in it, it was about a food!
I am an Amazon Associate. I borrowed this book from my local library.
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