Status Updates From The Particular Sadness of L...

When people asked my mother where Joseph had gone, she said he was on a journey. It was a word she liked, full of quest and literature and nobility of spirit. Sometimes she said he was in the Andes, learning about ancient cultures. Other times a deep-sea diver, off a coast in Australia, or else a surfer; depending on her mood, he either rode the waves or searched beneath them.

I rested my eyes on bundles of purple and blue flowers as the bride, a red-haired botanist with graceful wrists, walked down the aisle in a dress that highlighted her flowiness, her movements as easy and natural as the ebb and flood of ocean foam.
Her whole face abloom with joy. George fumbling with his hands, picking at his thumb, nearly dropping the ring.
I do, I do. A kiss.
Dust pollen swirling in the air

my father was a fairly focused man, a smart one with a core of simplified who had ended up with three highly complicated people sharing the household with him: a wife who seemed raw with loneliness, a son whose gaze was so unsettling people had to shove cereal boxes at him to get a break, and a daughter who couldn’t even eat a regular school lunch without having to take a fifteen minute walk to recover.

My mouth—always so active, alert—could now generally identify forty or fifty states in the produce or meat I ate. I had taken to tracking those more distant elements on my plate, and each night, at dinner, a U.S. map would float up in my mind as I chewed and I’d use it to follow the nuances in the parsley sprig, the orange wedge, and the baked potato to Florida, California, and Kansas, respectively.

We drove the full length of Wiltshire Boulevard, from the ocean to the heart of downtown, winding our way back home on 6th through the palaces of Hancock Park. Beneath tall graceful pines, planted in 1932 by the bigwigs of the movie industry. We stopped by the market to pick up ravioli and spinach for dinner. My mother was in between jobs that year, and she did not like to drive alone.

I recognised her enthusiasm as phase one of a new interest. Phase two was usually three or four months later, when she hit the wall after her natural first ability rush faded and she had to struggle along with the regularly skilled people. Phase three was a lot of head shaking and talking about why that particular skill—sociology, ceramics, computers, French—wasn’t for her after all. Phase four was the uneasy

DNF AT Page 86 may pick up and try again in future but wasnt feeling it at this moment

It's very easy to follow and very well written, really sad and shows real struggles of a family. I feel bad for Rose, she has such a powerful gift but she can't control it at such a young age. Reminds me a little of myself

I find that the descriptions of how Rose gleans information from food to be quite simple, fascinating and vivid. Idk but when she describes it I kind if feel like.. yeah, I can see how roast beef might taste like it’s from Oregon or how an orange slice from California tastes rounder than one from Florida …

On the other hand, I don’t get what is going on with the mom. Why is she so unhappy

This is SO BORING

Another yawn… back to back 😫

I hate this book.

Meh...

Reading bc Peyton recommended it and called it weird lol

DNF at 13%. I gave it a few chapters. I was thoroughly bored.

I read this about 8 years ago when I first moved to Dallas. I’ve thought about it a handful of times since (without really remembering any details, but remembering I really liked it) and remembered the title a few weeks ago.

Nearing the end of the book but still haven't got any "answer" promised by the title or the book. Revealing the protagonist's unique power (being able to taste the emotion in food) was overpowered by a side character's story(her brother's weird disappearance). Hopefully there's something waiting by the end of the book. Not hating on the book, though it almost seems like reading off a child-teen's diary than a novel.

Time for a re read! I just ditched four separate books. I figured I should maybe just go read something I already liked.

Cool concept, slow and easy to digest. But nothing really compares to Asian fiction when talking about food. Asian fiction is much more visual, detailed, and delicious. I think the author could've been more descriptive of the food while playing out the concept of "tasting emotions".

Peculiar but regulating and feel-goody, like reading children's fiction.

i like the concept but a slow and not overly entertaining read so far

Dnf

DNF @ 34%. Thought this would be quirky but was just flat out weird. Might continue listening to audio book later on.

Pausing this for now— an interesting (?) read. Might come back to it if I’m interested in seeing the ending but just wasn’t for me.

HUH?!

why am i such a slow reader i used to read so fast 😭

I don’t like this book

Whhaaaat… he’s morphed?… stuck? I’m seeing Manhattan Project… becoming a chair.

Good!

It’s just getting weird, like just stop. Your brother is missing, stop making out with his best friend.