Might have to check out Bittman. I agree that How to Cook Everything is well nigh indispensible, and good enough to teach you how to start messing around.

Peeve (which I might ask/yell at him about)... "Season to taste". This is somewhat DIFFICULT when you're making, say, meatloaf, and you really have NO IDEA how much salt to put in. Not a good idea to take a nibble and adjust, is it?

FYI, "Food for Thought" is not a book, but a special course/lecture series taught at the UW. This lecture and Bittman's book signing have been combined into a single event at Kane Hall tonight.

More info.

Bittman's interview on KUOW this morning was great. I wish I could go to this.

The mother's name is Hope. That kind of heavy-handed symbolism practically begs "Don't read me!" to me.

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And, yet, you recommended The Scarlet Letter for reading last month.

DOES. NOT. COMPUTE.

I thought Broken For You was genius. I barely, barely finished Sing Them Home...so nope, I wouldn't bother reading it if I were you.

I'm pretty sure Mark Bittman is also in Kane Hall, if you check the U Bookstore's event listing.

Misanthrope @4: The Scarlet Letter was written roughly 160 years ago. Sing Them Home was written roughly five minutes ago. You can't apply the same symbolism rules. I appreciate that you hate The Scarlet Letter, as much as you do, though. That you can muster up that kind of hatred for a novel written so long ago is admirable.

@5: Thanks for the tip. I may have to check out Broken For You now.

@7: Why can't you apply the same rules? A heavy-handed symbol is a heavy-handed symbol, whether it is from 5 minutes ago or from 160 years ago. There are many rules that could be negated due to time: flow and rhythm, slang usage, sentence structure, tone. These all vary with current speech patterns and word usage. But, for the basic rules of English and writing, the same rules apply.

Now, if writing a novel was a new invention 160 years ago, maybe I'd give some leeway. Kind of like watching the development of film over the course of 110 years. But, 110 years ago, people were starting the craft. Now, bad movies are much more inexcusable than 70 years ago.

But, novels have been around much longer than The Scarlet Letter. And, thus, its sins are not that forgivable.

@8: Some of what Hawthorne was doing—the unhappy, un-uncompletely sad ending, for instance—was fairly new for a popular novelist to be doing at the time.

I agree that certain books we consider classics are no longer interesting from anything beside a historical perspective—Uncle Tom's Cabin is not that good a book—but I think that the beauty of Scarlet Letter is that it sneaks in some wonderful elements that still, to this day, aren't duplicated successfully by many novelists: I think the character of Pearl, in particular, is a wonderful literary child. I've never read another kid quite like her. And some of the writing about guilt is unparalleled. And I am an expert in guilt. Things like Chillingsworth and the forest being perfect and natural and good are kind of smoke and mirrors, deflecting from the real, important work that the novel is doing.

@9 While, I did indeed almost enjoy Pearl as a character (the closest thing to a redeeming quality in the book), even though she was a heavy handed symbol. I was hit over the head by her name, knowing that she was named Pearl because she was the thing of beauty extracted from all the dirt. Reading the novel in school, I wasn't able to duck the flying anvils of obvious symbolism that The Scarlet Letter hurls at you page after page after page.

The guilt and pathos of the characters that people so embrace, especially in the modern age, struck me as misery without a conscience. These people have been miserable for how long?! Really? Unlike in, say, the novels of Thomas Hardy, these miserable characters are given little more to do than express their misery and lay it out for the reader. And, how tough their trials and tribulations are because of an affair. And, again, unlike the novels of Thomas Hardy, there isn't even a level of misanthropic cynicism to lighten the mood. Of course, Hardy's first novel was written a full 28 years later, and one would hardly compare the literature of the 1960s to the literature of the 1930s to the literature of the 1990s.

Despite its length, the novel reminds me of something that has been over-narrated. The subtle becomes obvious and the writing goes from interesting to blunt. And, as such, compared to other writers of the era (Dickens, Twain, etc), Hawthorne becomes a hack. The main reason The Scarlet Letter has endured the test of time is the salacious subject matter (adultery isn't as bad as all that...women need sexing too), and the teachability of the symbolism ("Dude, that cloud is totally the letter A" *inhale*).

@10 Uh, no Pearl was named "Pearl" because "pearl" is a slang term for clitoris.

The novel's symbolism is not heavy-handed by the standards of the 19th Century--in fact, it was subtle enough that everyone could miss that it's all about the threat of female sexuality per se, rather than just one act of illicit sex.

Hester rejects patriarchy (see what the town elders ask her: they don't same "Name who you sinned with" they say "Give this child a father!") because her very body requires her to do so.

And this argument--which would take much more room than this to fully explicate--explains a key problem with the book. Why are the men Hester loved or married such spineless ugly little wimps? Chillingworth (who is actually, of course Prynne) and Dimmesdale are such poor excuses for men because both of them refuse to do their patriarchal duty and be a father. Dimmesdale won't claim Pearl as his, and Chillingworth won't accept her as his (though, legally, she is: Hester's his wife, her child is his property). The rules of patriarchy require these men to be fathers, they refuse, they waste away and die.

@11 I'm sure rubbing Pearl, however, did not give Hester any sort of pleasure. There was no, "Come on and pet the child. Ooo, yeah, just like that." :-)

That kidding aside, Pearl as the name for the clitoris seems like an even worse symbol (though less heavy-handed) than Pearl as a pearl. Sure, she's vibrant, bouncy, restricted, and Hester's reason to live (OMG, horny female), but she becomes less of a character that way and even more of a symbol. Which makes me hate her more for being a mere device.

And, don't think the weak males mixed with Hester's determination missed my grasp. It was as blatant as, say, a female's sexuality in an early '90s "OMG, Horny Women Are PSYCHO" erotic thriller, especially those written by Joe Ezterhaus or Adrian Lyne. Except, the men in Hawthorne's tale are even weaker and more exaggerated. We can't do anything. We suck. We're not worthy. They weren't really characters either, but devices for Hawthorne's written misery to come through.

The combination of their demise, and the not-quite redemption of Hester, with a very huge fear of women's sexuality, which has been healthy in American culture, if not all culture, since, well, forever made this an acceptable novel, where the one sex act was the salacious moment. Big, strong, monogamous men and the people who get all up in others' grill about their indiscretions and cast judgments on them - only they will survive and be merry-ish.