After buzzing through a good handful of short, quick books, I thought I might keep the trend going with this one, which I'd picked up for a dollar during one Barnes and Noble clearance or another. It's a stream of consciousness piece, it seems, from the mind of a woman cooking cuttlefish for a dinner party (although the speaker admits in chapter one that she bought squid instead, unable to procure actual cuttlefish, she maintains steadfast in defining them as the real thing throughout the book). The smells, the sights, the overall experience of cooking leads her into thoughts about her childhood, romances (however brief), womanhood in general, food in general, and the impending party (interspersed with bits of actual action, insofar as cooking can provide action). The concept appealed to me, but the execution was flawed. Glimpses of feminism would clash with such mundane worries as what to wear, in case the guy she was interested in was to show up. Some memories were too garbled to extract meaning from, some too unrelated to feel at all important. Every now and then, it felt like something didn't click. It's hard to tell if this is the fault of the author or translator in a case like this, but either way, I'd have to give this a low 2.