The
Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake
By Aimee Bender
292 pages, Doubleday, 2010
Originally
posted on The Chocolate Bunny on August 22nd, 2011 and edited for
style and content.
The ParticularSadness of Lemon Cake was one of those
books that I came upon accidentally at the store. The greenish-blue cover,
quirky title font, and, of course, the title and the striking slice of
triple-layer cake caught my eye as I was skimming the shelves, looking for Kate
Atkinson’s latest novel. I had never heard of Aimee Bender, but after reading
her book’s synopsis, I was too intrigued to leave it behind. And I’m very glad
I took it home.
The novel’s narrator, Rose, is a happy, carefree
nine-year-old girl at the beginning of the novel. The first scene is the kind
of childhood memory everyone either cherishes or would like to have: she comes
home from school to her smiling mother, who is just about to start baking her a
birthday cake. But after one bite, Rose realizes something is very wrong:
although the cake is objectively delicious and made from quality ingredients,
she can taste something else in it, too. Hollowness, emptiness. Her mother’s mal-de-vivre.
Rose soon discovers,
much to her despair, that, no matter what she eats, she can now taste the
emotions of the person who prepared the food – even in something as basic as a
sandwich. Imagine eating a bakery cookie and tasting the boredom and
frustration of the person who made it. Or, even worse, discovering your
mother’s deep, dark secrets by way of her roast beef.
