Cooking in the Wrong Century, Teresa Präauer
As someone who isn’t the best cook, the idea of having a dinner party is something that fills me with dread; however, I always love reading about food and the interactions and conversations that comes with having a dinner party.
Cooking In The Wrong Century by Teresa Präauer initially appears to be a very simple premise – that of a group of people getting together for a dinner party, but it soon transforms into something far more complex and intricate. It’s an astute and layered novel about the social conventions and preconceptions that are instinctively programmed into us, and they are deconstructed and examined in detail throughout.
I have to admit that it took me a while to get into the style and rhythm of the prose, so if you are expecting a linear narrative with a neat conclusion, this might not be the book for you. Every action and interaction are laid bare and dissected, and as the hostess, her partner, the husband, the wife and the Swiss man come together for a meal in the hostess’ apartment, no topic or thought is off limits.
The more I read however, the more absorbed I became in the way the author plays with the conventions of the novelistic form and the expectations we have as readers as to what we believe the description of a dinner party should be. The descriptions of the food are just sumptuous and add a feeling of decadence to the story. As the evening moves on, the consumption of the food and alcohol means that, inside this apartment, free from the social constraints and norms, the characters can truly be themselves – which isn’t always the most positive experience.
This is a novel that will make you think about how we present ourselves and our worlds to other people. It also shows how our unconscious acceptance and absorption of social media, and the ways in which we curate our lives to adhere to what is expected permeate every choice we make. Any writing that can make you sit and think about your world for me is always a positive experience. Cooking In the Wrong Century certainly made me do that, and I think it will make all readers recognise – possibly quite uncomfortably – just how relatable this dinner party is.
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