This isn't just about food

One of the main characters in Jami Attenberg's novel, The Middlesteins, is obsessed about food, lots and lots of food. But its effect on the reader is a 180. After reading this novel, I felt a lack of craving for Big Macs, Chinese take-out, and baby back ribs. Yes, I've been affected by The Middlesteins, and in a good way.

The Middlesteins may be a short novel, but it certainly is meaty on the issues of family, our roles in it, marriage, the importance of coping with change, and the consequences of failing to do so. We all know that family is important, and yet our actions, our attitude, toward our family seem to point otherwise.

Attenberg's novel is made up of the narratives of the Middlestein family. There's Edie Middlestein, the 60-year-old retired lawyer who has been abandoned by her husband. Edie's problem is that she can't stop eating, even though she's now more than 300 pounds and is diabetic. Richard, her husband of more than 30 years, is now living in an apartment with his girlfriend. Apparently, Richard has long been contemplating leaving Edie, which was finally triggered by Edie's latest diabetic surgery.

Then there are their children. Robin, their daughter who is a schoolteacher, naturally hates her father for leaving. Benny, who has now a family of his own, is married to Rachelle, who also gets her own narrative in the novel. Rachelle is your Stepford wife: is a perfectionist, counts calories in her family's meals, and is determined to "save" Edie's life. It's a futile attempt though, as Edie just consumes all the food that she can possibly can up to the end.

Food is central in the story of The Middlesteins. When Edie's children were growing up, she gave them all the food that they can afford, as if thinking that "food was made of love. . . and they could never deny themselves a bit of anything they desired." Robin was a fat kid who decides that she's had enough of all the eating during her teenage years. Now an adult, Robin may be thin, but she has all this pent-up anger toward her father and probably just a slight bitterness that her career didn't actually become how she thought it would.

Throughout the novel, it's as if Edie has resigned herself to the fact that all she has in her life, apart from her kids and grandchildren, is her love of eating. Attenberg even describes the food, junk food and otherwise, with much detail. We know that all this eating will eventually lead to her death, but we're still reading, anxiously awaiting how the final events will play out.

I love The Middlesteins. It allowed me a glimpse of contemporary family life, albeit the family is Jewish and American. I enjoyed reading the narratives of each of the characters. I'm amazed how the author has created distinct voices for each. I just felt sorry for Edie and I somehow sympathized with Richard. And Rachelle's obsessive compulsiveness is a gas.

It's no wonder why The Middlesteins was chosen as a best book of the month by Amazon and also by The Millions. The novel is just so wonderful that you wish it were longer. It's heartbreaking and smart. The term "tragicomedy" doesn't cut it in describing this beautiful novel.

Read this book if:

1. Food is your obsession.
2. You know that every family is weird in its own way.
3. You love reading personal narratives.

Thank you, Mr. Bradbury

I remember when I was 13, the time I flipped through the first page of Dandelion Wine. I remember being struck with wonder at the stories, how transfixed I was with the seemingly magical world I was reading. I remember looking up other works by this American writer. I remember Something Wicked This Way Comes, another favorite.

Farewell Summer, Dandelion Wine's supposed sequel, wasn't as good as the first. Still, it was an enjoyable read nonetheless. I remember not being disappointed by it.You just know that Ray Bradbury is a damn good writer despite his being prolific. There's a certain charm to all his works, an evenness that can make other writers seem amateurish.

I seldom feel this affected upon hearing the death of a writer. But when I read the news about Ray Bradbury's death, it felt surreal. It seems that I was expecting this man of letters to be with us through all our days, churning out fantastic pieces of fiction from generation to generation. But something wicked did come our way and took him away from us.

I will be forever grateful for all of Ray Bradbury's fiction. He brought magic, thrill, and wonder in our prosaic world. So thank you, Mr. Ray Bradbury. We will remember.