Friday, May 18, 2012

Book to Read: The Language of Baklava

I just finished Diana Abu-Jaber's The Language of Baklava, and I found it to be a thoroughly enjoyable memoir of an Arab-American girl coming to age and realizing who she is.  She emphasized how important food is to Jordanians by weaving recipes for key Jordanian dishes throughout her narrative.  I know I found myself craving most of her recipes as I was reading it.  As tends to happen with most memoirs, it sort of piddles out at the end, but it was a very enjoyable read overall.  Perhaps because I've been immersed in Asian cultures or perhaps because one of my cousins-in-law told us of her recent travels to Jordan, I was ready to get lost in the multi-cultural struggles, and I wholly enjoyed this book.  Here are some of my favorite phrases Abu-Jaber wrote:

- a murky, primordial sort of memory
- dark and delicious as the aroma of gasoline
- To my mind, this is the best way to show love -- to offer food from your own hand.
- I am stricken, paralyzed with love.
- Then the nuns take over the world.  There are nuns and nuns.  They stream from the school building.  So many of them: lipless, eyebrowless, boiled skinless, and swathed in acres of black veils with white bibs.  They come with rulers.  They herd our raggedy lines into sharp military formations.  These women mean business.
- as if the words have been bottled up inside her from the moment of her birth
- in splendid repeating pattern
- tissue-soft face
- the wind nudges
- These episodes were like electrical storms, breaking with ferocity and passing swiftly.
- sinking myself into reading
- The physical fact of those oiled, insectlike weapons disturbs the air and causes an instant physical contraction.
- a few more grieving instruments
- sheathe his wattled, allegatory neck

Link to buy book from Amazon

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