Mother for Dinner

Product Information

Against a backdrop of economic and ecological disaster, a dysfunctional and eccentric American family set out to fulfil their emotionally difficult and late mother’s death-bed request about the ultimate destination of her mortal remains.

Does it take two generations to change from referring to yourself as Chinese to Chinese-American to just American? Beyond the practical, Seventh struggles with the sense of guilt and responsibility he feels – to his mother, to his people and to his unique cultural heritage. His mother always taught him he was a link in a chain, thousands of people long, stretching back hundreds of years.This could be a portrait of any ethnic group that has been consumed by America, though, in this case, it’s unclear who is devouring whom. Another central piece in the story was Americanization Day held in 1914 by Henry Ford in attempt to 'Americanized' his immigrant workers: A huge black cauldron was set. Além disso, é impossível ter uma opinião objectiva quando o envolvimento na história não é desinteressado como nos outros livros que leio não profissionalmente.

Seventh Seltzer works in Manhattan publishing and has to vet identity stories vying to be the next Great American Novel: “The Heroin-Addicted-Autistic-Christian-American-Diabetic one” and “the Gender-Neutral-Albino-Lebanese-Eritrean-American” one are two examples. It’s a satire on the immigrant and minority experience in the USA – the American dream of ‘melting pot’ assimilation that we see contradicted daily by tribalism and consumerism. Auslander uses Mother for Dinner to make serious points about everything from the blandness of modern society to religious extremism .Of practical concern, his dead mother is six-foot-two and weighs about four hundred and fifty pounds. To make matters worse, even if he can wrangle his brothers together for a feast, the Can-Am people have assimilated, and the only living Cannibal who knows how to perform the ancient ritual is their Uncle Ishmael, whose erratic understanding of their traditions leads to conflict. Seventh has his unusual name because his mother (known to all as Mudd) was an identitarian fanatic determined to give birth to 12 sons through whom the fading Cannibal nation would be reborn. In his new novel, Shalom Auslander applies his satirical scalpel to the delicate issues of identity politics.

I love Seventh, like First, dislike Tenth, want Twelfth to develop a mind of her own, and just want to hug Zero. It’s a clever, grotesque device which enables Auslander to throw Orthodoxy dependent on ancient stories and tradition (of all kinds) into sharp and unforgiving focus.Seventh is one of her sons who has broken free but is drawn back as the family gathers for Mudd’s death – after which, by tradition, they are expected to eat her. I've not read anything by Auslander before this, and this is definitely not what I thought it was - I guess I thought social parody by way of body horror and straightforward storytelling - but I find that I have very much enjoyed being push-pulled in verious directions by this mulling, this thought experiment, this conversation amongst rabbis, wherein nothing is solved, nothing is concluded, we simply lay out various points for consideration without nailing them down too tightly or judging them without examining their various facets. l’élément déclencheur qui va remettre beaucoup de choses en question n’est autre que la mort de la matriarche qui doit être mangée par ses propres enfants afin de perpétuer la tradition. It is a rare and agile narrative, part deftly-written, Cannibal satire, part moving exploration of identity and party truly concerning recipe book.

The boys all have a purpose -- they are a chain of people who keeps their family and culture connected. Mudd is almost a dark-matter liberal in how much she hates everyone except Can-Ams, and her particular loathing of Gilligan’s Island and Jack Nicholson. The story is hilarious although it falls at the end with the deed only half done but reading thoroughly recommended. His novel, Hope: A Tragedy, about a man finding a cantankerous Anne Frank living in his attic, is wildly inappropriate.I did appreciate his picture of the pervasiveness of xenophobia – the “You’re Not Me” look that anyone can get when walking in an unfamiliar neighborhood – and his willingness to question the value of beliefs and ceremonies once they’ve stopped being reasonable or of use.