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This colorful and heartfelt autobiography of Haney's family life and English heritage focuses on food, both as sustenance and as a vehicle to examine issues of class and identity. The culinary descriptions make for a mouthwatering and occasionally cringe-worthy scene-stealer at the author's boyhood home in Chipping Ongan, in the Essex, England, countryside, where "much was eaten... and surprisingly little said." Now copy chief at Gourmet, Haney penned the book following the 2003 publication of a personal essay for the magazine on the same topic. He has successfully mined three generations of his family, threading together vignettes from his parents' childhood experiences with his own, highlighting commonalities of financial struggles and alcoholism. Into these rather macabre topics, Haney's writing breathes new life with poetic details (he paints an autumnal drizzle as "the color of unwashed sheep"). Reminiscent of Roald Dahl's Boy, with a gastronomic bent, this memoir is insightful and evocative, expertly conveying the author's emotional connection to food. Having inherited a legacy of "sausages and sadness," Haney sees what he eats as representative of a choice between the working and upper classes, and family loyalties. One wishes for more action and fewer exhaustive culinary images, but to Haney, food is sometimes both the starring character and the action. Photos. (Jan.)
Copyright 2007 Reed Business InformationAfter moving from London to New York City and eating in its finest restaurants, Haney, copy chief for Gourmet magazine, became nostalgic for the food of his youth-distinctly British fare from bacon sandwiches to spotted dick (a pudding with dried fruit) to whelks (sea snails). In this memoir, Haney revisits his childhood in London, describing his East End, working-class family in the 1950s and 1960s. Each of the book's three section titles mentions food: "High-Speed Burnt Toast," "Fake Coffee," and "Damage from Oily Chickpeas." Photographs of the author and his family are peppered throughout the book, much of which is based on interviews Haney conducted with various relatives. Developed from Haney's 2003 essay of the same title published in Gourmet , his memoir is recommended for public libraries.-Nicole Mitchell, Univ. of Alabama at Birmingham Lib., Lister Hill
Copyright 2006 Reed Business Information.Anonymous
Posted March 20, 2008
I am relieved to see such a well-crafted memoir such as this appear on the market. 'Fare Shares for All' is a brutally honest, witty, and delicious memoir. Expertly crafted, I love how this author places two important subjects, food and war, side by side: 'Blank-faced pickled onions were drowning in vinegar. Skewered at the midriff, sqadrons of cocktail sausages were lined up like fatalities on stretchers. Bulking wedges of Cheddar sat at the back in the shadows of sandwiched ham, triangulations of pork and quashed bread that were shedding meltdown butter and a hint of sty.' Later, Haney's comic timing is impeccable: 'Mum never minced her words,' said Ray. 'Remember that really bad afternoon, Den? Daylight raid. September 1940. Windows blown out. Front door gone. Half the roof off. And what does she say? 'I'm not moving for that bastard Hitler. They'll never carry me out.' Yet Haney's unsentimental eye and ear for comedy is carefully measured, never coming off as cold, or snobbish. He has created a moving paean to his family haunted by class struggle and war.
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Overview
In this beautifully written, vividly rendered memoir, John Haney, Gourmet magazine’s copy chief, describes his family’s day-to-day struggles, from the twilight of Queen Victoria’s reign to the dawn of the third millennium, in London’s least affluent working-class enclaves and suburbs, including a place called the Isle of Dogs–and reflects on how his family’s affection for the past and the food they loved kept them together. In crossing the Atlantic–and with it the class barrier–John is left with deep feelings of displacement and nostalgia for his Cockney roots. As he eats in some of New York City’s most expensive restaurants, he tries (and fails) to reconcile his new appetites with the indelible tastes of his youth–and ...