This week’s blog is a hard one for me to write. I’m breaking all the rules I set for myself. First, I was going to stay away from best selling books. There are so many books worth reading that could use light beamed their way, I prefer to concentrate my efforts there. Second, as I’ve said … Continue reading Mary Trumps Them All Too Much and Never Enough
Whatever I felt when I was reading Samuelsson’s book has absolutely changed for me. I read it the first time with my bias against the genre fully intact. I resented him skimming over the surface of his life, leaving so many parts of his journey unexplored, his lack of introspection, the un-memoir of it all, the lack of any emotional feel. On my second read, I was so aware of my white privilege, struck by my easy passage through life, blending freely without a thought. I wore it on every page as Samuelsson went from one white inhabited kitchen in Sweden to Austria to Switzerland to France to New York. Shame on me.