Friday Favourite: The Food of Love

This Sunday is our first wedding anniversary so I thought it seemed fitting to have a romantic theme for this week’s Friday favourite.

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My wonderfully wacky – and now official – ma-in-law gave this book to me as I was recovering from an operation several years ago (that's what playing a social game of sport will do!). Holed up on the couch for two weeks, with hubby-to-be tending to my every need (no I am not making this up – he really is the best nurse!), The Food of Love, by Anthony Capella was exactly the tonic I was looking for.

 

Tommaso is a humble Italian waiter, working in Rome. He has laid eyes on Laura – an art history student who has vowed she will only date men who can cook. The problem is, Tammaso can’t... but his friend Bruno can. As a love triangle quickly develops, these two handsome Italian men charm Laura, devour food, get caught up in antics only lovestruck Italian men could possibly get caught up in, and through it all, test their friendship.

The author describes it as a delicious comedy of errors, a romance as light and dazzling as one of Bruno’s own chocolate desserts, in which Laura has to choose between beauty and passion, Bruno has to decide between friendship and love, and Tommaso realises he’s bitten off more than he can chew.

The Sunday Times reviewed it as “Delicious in every way” and I’d have to agree. The Food of Love was mouth-wateringly good. It will have you dreaming of pizza and pasta for days!

Add a splash of wine, savour every page, and enjoy.

Friday favourite: The Book Thief

Ever since arriving in London almost four years ago, I’ve been intrigued by World War ll history. I’m not quite sure what it is, or why: perhaps it was visiting the city of Berlin and taking in all its history, or talking to German colleagues about growing up in the country where it all began.

History for me, was learning about the Tudors and Stewarts. High school history lessons were about the beheading of Charles 1 and the reign of Elizabeth 1. It was also about NZ history – but that’s no surprise given my mother’s occupation! But there were no classes relating to WW ll – that I can remember attending anyway!

Much has been written about this era of history, which is perhaps why The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak instantly became a favourite... it was so different. A story of WW ll from the perspective we’d never read about before – that of death. Yet, it was so real, so charming, and so absorbing.

Following the exploits of Liesel and Rudy, I felt as if I was tiptoeing around the streets, sneaking in and out of windows trying not to make a sound, and flipping through the pages of the sketchbook. It was as if I was going downstairs to visit Max, hidden away in the basement of Liesel’s foster parents home. If a footstep was heard overhead, I heard it too. If the breeze moved the curtains in the windows, I felt the rustle of the material myself.

The Book Thief is a sweet book, set in a dark time; a book of friendship set when it seemed trust was non-existent; it’s a book that will capture you, charm you, and leave you unable to think of anything else, but finding the time to devour it just one more time.

If you haven’t already read The Book Thief, add it to the top of the pile now – it deserves pride of place! 

Friday favourite: The Caliph's House

When you’re lying on a beach chair, suncream in reach and cocktail in hand, you want a book you can’t put down. When you’re on an intrepid journey, navigating potholes on dusty roads, riding camels, and walking in the mountains, you’re unlikely to get much reading done. So what do you do if one of your holiday reads is too good to leave in the backpack? You take it with you of course – in the car, on the camel, up the mountain....

With this Friday favourite I’m returning to my beloved Morocco. I’ve mentioned before how I love to read a book set in the country in which I’m visiting – that’s how I came to have The Caliph’s House.

It’s the story of Tahir Shah, who having spent time in Morocco as a child, now as a father and husband moves his family to the city of Casablanca. Purchasing a house, employing staff, and integrating himself and his family into the Moroccan way of life isn’t necessarily an easy thing to do – but in this instance, there are certain unexpected incidents that come Shah’s way, not least of all the jinns (spirits).

Shah has written his story in such a way, that you feel as if you’re experiencing it all with him. It’s by no means a blow-by-blow account of how he came to set up his new life, but instead a story that is captivating, enjoyable, at times laugh out loud, and with the most wicked of all twists on the very last page.

In fact, Amazon’s product review has hit the nail on the head to describe this book:  

“...a gloriously vivid, funny, affectionate and compelling account of how [Shah] and his family - aided, abetted and so often hindered by a wonderful cast of larger-than-life local characters: guardians, gardeners, builders, artisans, bureaucrats and police (not forgetting the jinns, the spirits that haunt the house) - returned the Caliph's House to its former glory and learned to make this most exotic and alluring of countries their home.”

Needless to say, despite carrying this book around wherever I went, it didn’t take long to finish. Nor did it take husband, brother and fellow travel companions much time to finish either. In the end, one final traveller departed Morocco with The Caliph’s House in his own backpack – which meant I had to return to the bookshop for another copy to go on my shelf!

Book #11: The Saffron Gate

There are some places in the world that capture you (and others that don’t!) For me, one of my most memorable trips to what has become my most favourite of places occurred two & a half years ago to the wonderful country that is Morocco.

We’d just spent a week cycling around the South of France with the olds (they were on a SKIing holiday no less – that’s a “Spending the Kids Inheritance” holiday if you’re curious), and as they went off on a relaxing canal boat, husband, brother and I took the intrepid route to Africa, spending two and a half weeks exploring Morocco & Egypt. 

I was instantly taken by Morocco, enamoured with it, you might say. The colour of the souks, the hustle and bustle of the medina, the warmth of the sun, and the people who displayed a sense of enjoyment and enthusiasm about life.

We spent a few days in Marrakech, before venturing up into the High Atlas Mountains, riding camels, sleeping under the stars in the Sahara Desert and dining on fresh seafood at the seaside resort of Essaouira. Our every outing, every purchase, every barter, and every walk is firmly imprinted in my memory bank.

And I have just returned to experience it all again, in the pages of The Saffron Gate. It’s the story of Sidonie O’Shea, an only child to elderly parents, who, after being afflicted with a childhood disease, grows up to become a lonely woman. A tragic accident brings Sidonie face-to-face with a handsome and mysterious doctor, who departs Sidonie’s sheltered life as quickly as he entered.

Sidonie’s search for her new love takes her to Morocco, where she walks the alleys of the souks, takes in the colour of the Majorelle gardens, and ventures into the desert as she forms a relationship with the Moroccans around her. She’s a frustrating character, at times strong-willed and resourceful, yet at other times painstakingly oblivious to what is going on around her. 

I found her difficult to like, yet that didn’t stop me from turning the pages as I retraced my own steps past the stalls of colourful leather slippers, drank sweet peppermint tea with the locals, and bartered with the Moroccans – all of whom have a gentleness about them, and a twinkle in the eye.

The Saffron Gate is going on my favourite bookshelf, alongside my favourite Lonely Planet Guidebook to Morocco.

Friday favourite: Tuesdays with Morrie

Whether surprisingly or not, my younger brother and I have similar tastes:  we both have a sweet tooth, like travelling, hunting and watching Top Gear, listening to Tom Petty (although that’s where our musical similarities end) and we have been known to take to the road on two wheel bikes, training for various levels of endurance races.  There’s a difference of two years and about six inches between us, but despite the advantage he has over me in height, he will always remain my little brother.

When it comes to literary tastes – we don’t necessarily read the same books. I’ve yet to see him pick up a Jackie Collins or a Marian Keyes, and I in turn haven’t quite managed to make my way through Nelson Mandela’s extensive biography or Bill Bryson’s Down Under (although chances of me reading these before little bro reads Marian Keyes is probably much higher!). Yet, without fail, a birthday or Christmas present in the mail is in the shape of a book – and to be on the safe side, it’s usually a Lonely Planet Guidebook.

But for my 28^th birthday – as I was jetsetting off to celebrate it in the 28^th country I had visited (that was a challenge in itself!) – stowed away in my hand luggage was little bro’s birthday present to me: Tuesdays with Morrie, by Mitch Albom.

“It’s pretty good,” was all he had said of this book, and yes I had heard much about it, but never knowingly understood what it was all about. I can only say that for once I was incredibly grateful for an uncivilised, early morning Easyjet flight from Gatwick where it was guaranteed that every other passenger would be fast asleep – because while reading Tuesdays with Morrie I was crying my eyes out. The tears couldn’t seem to fall fast enough down my cheeks as I turned page after page as we flew across the English Channel and over Europe, enroute to Copenhagen.

As such, Tuesdays with Morrie, in which Albom shares life’s lessons he has learned from his dying professor, is now firmly cemented on my most favourite of bookshelves and there it will stay until I have the strength and the supply of tissues I need to pick it up again.

Friday favourite: Q&A

I don't always remember where I buy books (possibly a downfall of buying so many!), but I certainly remember where I read them. At the beginning of 2009, husband and I left London for Cuba. At the same time, journo friend and hubby-to-be left New Zealand for the same destination. We were meeting halfway because journo friend wanted to visit Cuba before Castro carked it! (Well, why wouldn't you!)


Over the years, said journo friend had been the provider of many a good read (she still is) and this one was no exception. Q&A, by Vikas Swarup, had me mesmerised from the first page. Short, sweet chapters, so cleverly written, each a story in itself. Yet, despite each chapter standing alone, this book was definitely a whole - and one that I couldn't put down! As we drove past Cuban villages, lazed on beautiful beaches, walked through Cuban countryside - I had my nose inside this book.

I'd never heard of Q&A before - well at least I didn't think I had. And some of you may feel the same way... but here's the secret. The other name for Q&A is Slumdog Millionaire!


Seen the movie? Loved it? Well the book is 100 times better. Once again, I was left frustrated by the film. I appreciate that to turn a book into a film takes some creative licence, but I couldn't for the life of me understand why this story needed to be changed. It works perfectly as is - and has a MUCH better ending than the film!

Book #7: Snow Falling on Cedars

When one reads book reviews, words such as “compelling”, “truly remarkable”, “heartstopping” and “flawless” can often be a dime a dozen. I have to admit, that despite my love of such reading material, I don’t follow any reviewers, nor do I seek out recommendations. Rather my books are chosen off the shelf for the colour of their spine, the look and feel of them, the author’s name or – dare I say it – the picture on the front cover. Rarely do I buy a new book – and those that I do, tend to be Lonely Planet Guidebooks!

I’d picked up “Snow Falling on Cedars” in a thrift store in Canada. My first thrift store that I had ever stepped into – Canada style that is. I’d walked past the sign that told me it was “Seniors 20% off day”, past the racks of winter coats, the shelves of 2^nd hand shoes, and the cabinets laden with china, cake stands and dishracks. The bookshelves were at the back of this store and it was to be my first Canadian book purchase...ever!

For some reason “Snow Falling on Cedars” caught my attention. Perhaps it was the quality of the paperback, still shiny and new without dog-earred corners, or pages that smelt like the inside of your nana’s handbag. The description on the back located the story near Seattle, across the water from my new home on Vancouver Island. That alone, cemented it as my purchase of the day, and book number seven for the year.

That was last week – I’ve now reached the end of a “compelling”, “truly remarkable”, “heartstopping” and “flawlessly written” book. A book that contains a number of stories within its pages, intertwined and so cleverly written by author David Guterson. “Snow Falling on Cedars”, a murder-mystery, is set in the courtroom, in a cedar forest, and in the memories of its characters. It involves a local fisherman, a Japanese-American, and a harmonious community that harbours resentment as thick as the fog that surrounds the island during this week in 1954. It’s a story of love, honour, and prejudice; childhood dreams, family feuds, and war. Gently written, it carries the reader in its arms right through to the very last page.

Now how’s that for a review!

A Friday Favourite: The Bronze Horseman

I’m not short of love – I have a wonderful husband who remembers anniversaries (even when I don’t – woops!), buys me jewellery just for doing his washing (told you he was wonderful), cooks me dinner, brings me breakfast in bed and supports me 100% in everything I do. The story of his proposal to me makes other women weep, and he even goes so far as to eat all the chocolate in the house when I’m on yet another diet!

Yet despite being showered by love and wrapped in a wonderful loving environment by family and friends – I love a romantic novel... and this is my favourite! The Bronze Horseman, by Paullina Simons has been around for a while – so too has its sequels (The Bridge to Holy Cross also known as Tatiana & Alexander, & The Summer Garden) but despite other romantic novels that have come and gone – and a few raunchy Jackie Collins’ & Jilly Cooper’s thrown into the mix – The Bronze Horseman still gets pride of place on my bookshelf of favourites, and is recommended to anyone and everyone!

Set in Leningrad in 1941, Tatiana immediately stands out as a character. Quiet, beautiful yet full of strength. It’s only a matter of time before she meets her knight in shining armour – and he himself is irresistible. Their story and life together has everything you want in a romantic saga – love, loss, despair, emotional partings, romantic reunions and a family of their own. You’re guaranteed a happy ending of course, but it takes some time to get there and along the way you wonder if it will eventuate.

For me, The Bronze Horseman is the ultimate in romantic novels and perfect for curling up with this Valentine’s Day – as you eat chocolate and your hubby cooks you dinner!

http://www.paullinasimons.com

A Friday Favourite: The Tea Rose

This book should come with a health warning – you will not be able to get out of bed, nor will you be able to converse with others around you. Reading this book will make you very unsociable, unaware of happenings around you, and you will lose a week of your life – but it’s worth it. Every minute of it!

The Tea Rose is, without a doubt, my absolute favourite book. I first read it years ago while house sitting for my now mother-in-law. She’d jetsetted off to the Mediterranean on a six week cruise – a birthday present from her son, now my husband – dishing out presents like that I wasn’t going to let him get away! Her house was on a farm under the shadows of Mt Pirongia, a beautiful mountain in the heart of the Waikato region of New Zealand. But as beautiful as it was, I quickly found out that country living is not for me. I lasted all of about 26 hours of those six weeks on the farm, before leaving the house sitting duties to husband and returning to my childhood home – in the city!

Yet, I would escape back to the countryside on weekends, and it was one of those days that I spent immersed in The Tea Rose. A captivating historical novel with its beginnings in a Jack the Ripper era of London. A cast of well-developed characters that each has a story of its own, and a perfect mix of danger, intrigue, romance and sorrow. I disappeared for days into the pages of The Tea Rose and several years later, when I’d moved to the magical city of London, I discovered the sequel, The Winter Rose. There went another week of my life!