I’ve had this book on my shelf for a while but after a run of books focusing on the Nazi regime, I held off reading it until I was ready. When I finally picked up the novel, I discovered a quirky character tale that lingered with me. Here’s the blurb:
Himmler’s Cook is flavoured with wit, eccentricity and the spice of hardship. Rose, the sprightly but elderly narrator, spins a yarn that moves from bittersweet to darkly humorous as she recounts turning points in her life. Her storytelling is chatty and verging on matter-of-fact as she recalls tragic, life-changing events of long ago, such as the loss of her family in the Armenian genocide, being used as a sex slave before she was a teenager, and the devastating moment when her children are taken away upon the breakdown of her marriage. You’d expect this Glock-toting old woman to be wallowing in self-pity, but she’s not about to let a pity party stop her from living a long life. How reliable is her narrative? It’s pretty outrageous, but it’s still a ripper of a fireside story.
Rose is your typical anti-heroine, with skewed morals and a propensity for revenge, but while some of her behaviour is disturbing, she’s a strangely attractive character. You almost wonder why you like her, but you do anyway. Here’s a little insight:
‘At my great age, I have discovered that people are much more alive in you once they’re dead. So dying does not mean the end; on the contrary, it means rebirth in other people’s minds.’
‘History is a bitch. She has taken everything from me. My children. My parents. My great, true love. My cats. I don’t understand the stupid veneration that the human race feels for her.’
Rose’s story is infused with a celebration of food – she learns to cook at a young age and ends up running a successful restaurant. Indeed, food also becomes a method for exacting revenge on more than one person who had it coming in her eyes.
A clever and thought-provoking tale, Himmler’s Cook is one for those who like a dash of literary and a dollop of black humour served with their fiction. Look out for the Provencal recipes at the end of the tale.
Available from good bookstores (Atlantic RRP $27.99AUD). My copy was courtesy of Allen & Unwin.
Monique Mulligan
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David Edwards is the editor of The Blurb and a contributor on film and television