Initially I really liked this. I picked it up for $3 while on a Cuba kick (and of course, in the middle of my long term foodie kick). At first, it was everything I hoped: A memoir of a boy growing up in Cuba, sharing the culture, the food, and his family with the reader.
He dove deeply into Cuban food, which I love to begin with, and described it in a way that made my tastebuds tingle. He moves to the US as an exile and it really opened my heart to people who are forced out of their homeland into a strange place (with strange food). The book was starting to really work on another level...
Then the bottom fell out.
Suddenly the book becomes about how he became a gay Cuban playwright in New York City. His failed marriages, his flopped plays, his homosexual represssion/expression and struggle.
At this point, he lost me. It was no longer a book about Cuba and Food (as the book advertises)...it suddenly became a David Sedaris book that wasn't funny.
I quit with about 40 pages to go because I could tell it wasn't going to recover. A huge disappointment after a really promising first half.