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The Hunger of Women
Rosa, midway through life, is alone. Her husband passed away long ago, and her cosmopolitan daughter is already out the door, keen to marry and move to the city. At loose ends, Rosa decides to transplant herself to the flat, foggy Lombardy provinces from her native Naples and there finds a way to renew herself—by opening a restaurant, and in the process coming to a new appreciation of the myriad relationships possible between women, from friendship to caregiving to collaboration to emotional and physical love. Unconventional in style and yet rivetingly accessible, The Hunger of Women is a novel infused with the pleasures of the body and the little shocks of daily life. Made up of Rosa’s observations, reflections, and recipes, it tracks her mental journey back to reconnect with her own embattled mother’s age-old wisdom, forward to her daughter’s inconceivable future, and laterally to the world of Rosa's new community of lovers and customers. A tribute not only to the tradition of women's writing on hearth and home but to the legacy of such boundary-breaking feminist writers as Gertrude Stein, Virginia Woolf, and Helene Cixous, The Hunger of Women is nothing less than a literary feast.
256 pages, Kindle Edition
Published October 17, 2023
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1813 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 49 reviews
November 1, 2024
Rating: 4* of five
Winner of the 2023 National Translation Award in Prose!
The Publisher Says: Rosa, midway through life, is alone. Her husband passed away long ago, and her cosmopolitan daughter is already out the door, keen to marry and move to the city. At loose ends, Rosa decides to transplant herself to the flat, foggy Lombardy provinces from her native Naples and there finds a way to renew herself—by opening a restaurant, and in the process coming to a new appreciation of the myriad relationships possible between women, from friendship to caregiving to collaboration to emotional and physical love.
Unconventional in style and yet rivetingly accessible, The Hunger of Women is a novel infused with the pleasures of the body and the little shocks of daily life. Made up of Rosa’s observations, reflections, and recipes, it tracks her mental journey back to reconnect with her own embattled mother’s age-old wisdom, forward to her daughter’s inconceivable future, and laterally to the world of Rosa's new community of lovers and customers. A tribute not only to the tradition of women's writing on hearth and home but to the legacy of such boundary-breaking feminist writers as Gertrude Stein, Virginia Woolf, and Helene Cixous, The Hunger of Women is nothing less than a literary feast.
I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA EDELWEISS+. THANK YOU.
My Review: A chest-pokey second-person punctuationless stream-of-consciousness narrative of a woman's awakening to the body's hungers? Where she addresses me directly as "Reader" throughout?! Four stars?!
I have not been kidnapped, am not being threatened with grievous bodily harm, and have not lost (more of) my mind. This is a work that, like Ducks, Newburyport and Milkman, uses what could feel like a gimmick in less talented hands to drag you willy-nilly into the head of a woman who, in middle life, determines she is not living, but existing, so sets out to use her woman-ness to its fullest capacity. She's Neapolitan, living in Milan, the mother of an adult daughter whose life has (as they must) diverged from her mother's despite their living together. Her marriage ended when her husband was killed in a car accident...very believable for anyone who's driven in Italy...so there's a huge space in her life as yet unfilled.
So you know, US readers: Neapolitans are the Southern Black folk of Italy, and Milan is the mothership of Italian racism and fascism. AND Rosa's a woman in a misogynist society. These are facts that color the way one sees the narrator that might not be obvious.
Rosa addressing us as "Reader" is my least-favorite thing in this largely plotless inner journey of an adult into the selfhood denied for so long simply by doing the rote, expected things. Rosa decides to open a restaurant...she knows about food, so it makes sense...and thus opens the floodgates of her body's hunger for womanly touch. This is pretty much it as to plot.
A lot of the prose, then, is dedicated to telling us the story of a woman's world as circumscribed by her agreement to be repressed. As that agreement wanes, and as she regales us with...recipes is not the word, with ingredients and techniques for making them sing together, much as one does when talking to a friend who shares one's experience level and cultural referents. These are poetic prose evocations of the cuisine of Naples in all its seafoody glory.
I wanted it all. All the time I read the book I was FAMISHED for the flavors she so intensely evokes in her passages of passata and disfruitings of frutti di mare (seaborne creatures). Then to trudge upstairs to gob a blob of kosher "food"...well, it was its own special torture.
I think I might've withheld a fifth star simply out of enraged anguish....
Is this a read for everyone...well, honestly not. The narrative has no drive for the plot-driven reader. The story is richer with some background that many simply won't care to acquire. The narrator's food-driven hunger is not going to do good things to dieters' willpower. People experiencing sexual deprivation or skin-hunger are not going to feel soothed. I don't imagine the eww-ick homophobes will have too much to shudder over unless they're insanely sensitive to sensuality shared by others. Those sorts aren't likely to be reading my stuff, fortunately.
So I'll clutch my fifth star to my deprived-of-cuisine chest but urge most of y'all to get the beautiful, poetic, seamless translation of a vibrant, intense woman's coming alive for your pre-Thanksgiving (US) or pre-Yule pleasure.
The feast before the feast, let's call it.
Winner of the 2023 National Translation Award in Prose!
The Publisher Says: Rosa, midway through life, is alone. Her husband passed away long ago, and her cosmopolitan daughter is already out the door, keen to marry and move to the city. At loose ends, Rosa decides to transplant herself to the flat, foggy Lombardy provinces from her native Naples and there finds a way to renew herself—by opening a restaurant, and in the process coming to a new appreciation of the myriad relationships possible between women, from friendship to caregiving to collaboration to emotional and physical love.
Unconventional in style and yet rivetingly accessible, The Hunger of Women is a novel infused with the pleasures of the body and the little shocks of daily life. Made up of Rosa’s observations, reflections, and recipes, it tracks her mental journey back to reconnect with her own embattled mother’s age-old wisdom, forward to her daughter’s inconceivable future, and laterally to the world of Rosa's new community of lovers and customers. A tribute not only to the tradition of women's writing on hearth and home but to the legacy of such boundary-breaking feminist writers as Gertrude Stein, Virginia Woolf, and Helene Cixous, The Hunger of Women is nothing less than a literary feast.
I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA EDELWEISS+. THANK YOU.
My Review: A chest-pokey second-person punctuationless stream-of-consciousness narrative of a woman's awakening to the body's hungers? Where she addresses me directly as "Reader" throughout?! Four stars?!
I have not been kidnapped, am not being threatened with grievous bodily harm, and have not lost (more of) my mind. This is a work that, like Ducks, Newburyport and Milkman, uses what could feel like a gimmick in less talented hands to drag you willy-nilly into the head of a woman who, in middle life, determines she is not living, but existing, so sets out to use her woman-ness to its fullest capacity. She's Neapolitan, living in Milan, the mother of an adult daughter whose life has (as they must) diverged from her mother's despite their living together. Her marriage ended when her husband was killed in a car accident...very believable for anyone who's driven in Italy...so there's a huge space in her life as yet unfilled.
So you know, US readers: Neapolitans are the Southern Black folk of Italy, and Milan is the mothership of Italian racism and fascism. AND Rosa's a woman in a misogynist society. These are facts that color the way one sees the narrator that might not be obvious.
Rosa addressing us as "Reader" is my least-favorite thing in this largely plotless inner journey of an adult into the selfhood denied for so long simply by doing the rote, expected things. Rosa decides to open a restaurant...she knows about food, so it makes sense...and thus opens the floodgates of her body's hunger for womanly touch. This is pretty much it as to plot.
A lot of the prose, then, is dedicated to telling us the story of a woman's world as circumscribed by her agreement to be repressed. As that agreement wanes, and as she regales us with...recipes is not the word, with ingredients and techniques for making them sing together, much as one does when talking to a friend who shares one's experience level and cultural referents. These are poetic prose evocations of the cuisine of Naples in all its seafoody glory.
I wanted it all. All the time I read the book I was FAMISHED for the flavors she so intensely evokes in her passages of passata and disfruitings of frutti di mare (seaborne creatures). Then to trudge upstairs to gob a blob of kosher "food"...well, it was its own special torture.
I think I might've withheld a fifth star simply out of enraged anguish....
Is this a read for everyone...well, honestly not. The narrative has no drive for the plot-driven reader. The story is richer with some background that many simply won't care to acquire. The narrator's food-driven hunger is not going to do good things to dieters' willpower. People experiencing sexual deprivation or skin-hunger are not going to feel soothed. I don't imagine the eww-ick homophobes will have too much to shudder over unless they're insanely sensitive to sensuality shared by others. Those sorts aren't likely to be reading my stuff, fortunately.
So I'll clutch my fifth star to my deprived-of-cuisine chest but urge most of y'all to get the beautiful, poetic, seamless translation of a vibrant, intense woman's coming alive for your pre-Thanksgiving (US) or pre-Yule pleasure.
The feast before the feast, let's call it.
October 31, 2024
Winner of the 2024 ALTA National Translation Award in Prose
Longlisted for the 2024 Warwick Prize for Women In Translation
First I made the clam sauce for the spaghetti Then I put a big pot on the stove with tomato sauce in which I poured some scorpionfish squids clams octopus small codfish and mullet and wedge clams and cockles and calamari and shrimp along with fresh garlic and parsley to make a thick and succulent fish soup that contains all the ancient flavor of this sea finite flayed furrowed by ships carrying centuries gold millennia wines spices oils handicrafts freemen slaves This sea struck by waves by lights which never forgets a vessel a lighthouse a house This sea of buried dead And back come the millennia and centuries past the buried and reanimated dead and dark women hunched shrunken They weave cloth by the sea They wait rip stitch add rip hook gather They give substance to the sea A sea written drawn corporeal They make it the open closed body of the age-old sea barred with columns with vessels with lighthouses Sea of war sea of earth paper sea of flesh paper Egyptian Sicilian African sea Italian sea Sea of Spain France Greece Albania Roman sea inked handcrafted articulated sea fatigued never tired of setting forth Mediterranean
The Hunger of Women is Jamie Richards's translation of Marosia Castaldi's La fame delle donne.
The narrator Rosa is from Napoli but now lives in Milan (the foggy and silent North of frost and ice) with her adult daughter, following the death of Rosa's husband in a car crash. She seeks meaning in food, opening a restaurant, which brings her into contact with the local society and a physical relationship with two women.
The novel's prose is modernist in style - as per the extract above, there is no punctuation although there are capital letters to break up the sentences in the paragraphs. Food features throughoutin sensuous detail, sometimes with pages of different recipes, and there are recurring motifs, such as the "dead and dark women hunched shrunken" who "weave cloth by the sea They wait rip stitch add rip hook gather". The repetition in the novel seems well suited to Italian cuisine, with its 50+ variations of cutting dough into different shapes, although Richards/Castaldi do succeed in making this monotonous fare sound rather delicious.
The style makes for a distinctive read, where the rhythm and musicality of the prose matters more that the plot. 3.5 stars - I suspect this would appeal even more to those who love Italian food (I seem to be in a small minority in my culinary views).
Longlisted for the 2024 Warwick Prize for Women In Translation
First I made the clam sauce for the spaghetti Then I put a big pot on the stove with tomato sauce in which I poured some scorpionfish squids clams octopus small codfish and mullet and wedge clams and cockles and calamari and shrimp along with fresh garlic and parsley to make a thick and succulent fish soup that contains all the ancient flavor of this sea finite flayed furrowed by ships carrying centuries gold millennia wines spices oils handicrafts freemen slaves This sea struck by waves by lights which never forgets a vessel a lighthouse a house This sea of buried dead And back come the millennia and centuries past the buried and reanimated dead and dark women hunched shrunken They weave cloth by the sea They wait rip stitch add rip hook gather They give substance to the sea A sea written drawn corporeal They make it the open closed body of the age-old sea barred with columns with vessels with lighthouses Sea of war sea of earth paper sea of flesh paper Egyptian Sicilian African sea Italian sea Sea of Spain France Greece Albania Roman sea inked handcrafted articulated sea fatigued never tired of setting forth Mediterranean
The Hunger of Women is Jamie Richards's translation of Marosia Castaldi's La fame delle donne.
The narrator Rosa is from Napoli but now lives in Milan (the foggy and silent North of frost and ice) with her adult daughter, following the death of Rosa's husband in a car crash. She seeks meaning in food, opening a restaurant, which brings her into contact with the local society and a physical relationship with two women.
The novel's prose is modernist in style - as per the extract above, there is no punctuation although there are capital letters to break up the sentences in the paragraphs. Food features throughoutin sensuous detail, sometimes with pages of different recipes, and there are recurring motifs, such as the "dead and dark women hunched shrunken" who "weave cloth by the sea They wait rip stitch add rip hook gather". The repetition in the novel seems well suited to Italian cuisine, with its 50+ variations of cutting dough into different shapes, although Richards/Castaldi do succeed in making this monotonous fare sound rather delicious.
The style makes for a distinctive read, where the rhythm and musicality of the prose matters more that the plot. 3.5 stars - I suspect this would appeal even more to those who love Italian food (I seem to be in a small minority in my culinary views).
October 13, 2023
The Hunger of Women is a delicious and decadent exploration of female sexual desire and hunger. Its narrator is Rosa, a woman of middle-age who used to keep company with her beloved daughter but now finds herself alone as her daughter starts her own life in the city. Rosa opens a restaurant in Lombardy, Italy and it is here her journey of self-discovery and of the power of friendship and sexual desire between women begins to blossom.
It is quite an experimental novel as the book contains no punctuation at all. Whilst it was really jarring at first as it disrupts the natural flow of reading we are used to, you soon start to pick up a rhythm with the prose and it becomes quite a lyrical experience to read. It's focus on food in particular reminded me a lot of Ducks, Newburyport in it's long, flowing sentences and musings on food and life by the narrator. I liked how some phrases of the novel repeated themselves and felt quite grounding, along with the mentions of Rosa's journal and her calling us 'Reader' to reiterate her belonging in her own narrative and to suggest the book is from a real physical journal that she has been keeping through her life. Looking at it through this lens, the structure of the book feels more like a series of notes jotted down in a notebook - long passages of recipes that maybe Rosa wrote down when she had a spark of inspiration, declarations of love that maybe she had no way of expressing rather than scribbling it down in a journal. The strange prose lends itself to stream of consciousness but also to the act of physically writing things down where we have no technology to tell us where to enter the correct punctuation. In the act of physical writing with a utensil we become the masters of our own craft and we define the rules, and The Hunger of Women shows this in the nature of the language.
I really enjoyed the parts toward the end where she found a female lover and the two of them went on their little travels, exploring both the world and each others bodies. The language really came alive in the book here for me which was great. And the comparison between the descriptions of sex and bodies to the way she talked about food were really interesting. The whole novel was a delight on the senses, and a really lyrical, descriptive and arresting book which doesn't leave a light impression on you. If anything I always put the book down feeling hungry from the lavish descriptions of food. I really enjoy books which delve into the desires of womanhood and the innate want to indulge. This is a really great novel and I can't wait to see how people respond to it when it comes out.
It is quite an experimental novel as the book contains no punctuation at all. Whilst it was really jarring at first as it disrupts the natural flow of reading we are used to, you soon start to pick up a rhythm with the prose and it becomes quite a lyrical experience to read. It's focus on food in particular reminded me a lot of Ducks, Newburyport in it's long, flowing sentences and musings on food and life by the narrator. I liked how some phrases of the novel repeated themselves and felt quite grounding, along with the mentions of Rosa's journal and her calling us 'Reader' to reiterate her belonging in her own narrative and to suggest the book is from a real physical journal that she has been keeping through her life. Looking at it through this lens, the structure of the book feels more like a series of notes jotted down in a notebook - long passages of recipes that maybe Rosa wrote down when she had a spark of inspiration, declarations of love that maybe she had no way of expressing rather than scribbling it down in a journal. The strange prose lends itself to stream of consciousness but also to the act of physically writing things down where we have no technology to tell us where to enter the correct punctuation. In the act of physical writing with a utensil we become the masters of our own craft and we define the rules, and The Hunger of Women shows this in the nature of the language.
I really enjoyed the parts toward the end where she found a female lover and the two of them went on their little travels, exploring both the world and each others bodies. The language really came alive in the book here for me which was great. And the comparison between the descriptions of sex and bodies to the way she talked about food were really interesting. The whole novel was a delight on the senses, and a really lyrical, descriptive and arresting book which doesn't leave a light impression on you. If anything I always put the book down feeling hungry from the lavish descriptions of food. I really enjoy books which delve into the desires of womanhood and the innate want to indulge. This is a really great novel and I can't wait to see how people respond to it when it comes out.
February 10, 2025
more of a book length prose poem than a novel. strange and challenging but i loved it. frequent repetition of phrases and paragraphs gives the text a musicality, reminiscent of woolf. no plot just food and god and italian landscapes and lesbian triads and mysticism about the feminine
December 8, 2023
4.5* !!
the further and further i indulged myself into the free-flowing narratives this book serves up, the more entrancing and powerful this book became! once i got myself comfortable with the writing style (this book contains very little punctuation, excluding all commas & full stops which took a little bit to get used to!) i was flawed with how much passion & meaning was crammed into the text! the bonds between women became a leading vocal point. the strong connection between mothers & daughters sets up the lead character Rosa’s journey to begin with. using the gift of cooking (‘infinite wisdom’) that was passed down to Rosa from her mother. this brings in the indulgence of food which is seen right until the very end of the book. but what blossoms out of this desire & hunger for food is a desire and hunger for women. the second half of the book focuses on the relationships & joyfulness of women as lovers. connected together & loosening the chains that binds them to patriarchal ideals. this connection between food & lesbian love mirrors throughout, leaving a very full & satisfied feeling to all that partakes in indulging!
a really unique read but an excellent one! my only real complaint is sometimes the use of repetition grew a little old for me! sometimes it worked sometimes it didn’t!
the further and further i indulged myself into the free-flowing narratives this book serves up, the more entrancing and powerful this book became! once i got myself comfortable with the writing style (this book contains very little punctuation, excluding all commas & full stops which took a little bit to get used to!) i was flawed with how much passion & meaning was crammed into the text! the bonds between women became a leading vocal point. the strong connection between mothers & daughters sets up the lead character Rosa’s journey to begin with. using the gift of cooking (‘infinite wisdom’) that was passed down to Rosa from her mother. this brings in the indulgence of food which is seen right until the very end of the book. but what blossoms out of this desire & hunger for food is a desire and hunger for women. the second half of the book focuses on the relationships & joyfulness of women as lovers. connected together & loosening the chains that binds them to patriarchal ideals. this connection between food & lesbian love mirrors throughout, leaving a very full & satisfied feeling to all that partakes in indulging!
a really unique read but an excellent one! my only real complaint is sometimes the use of repetition grew a little old for me! sometimes it worked sometimes it didn’t!
April 24, 2024
I’ve been thinking about this book ever since I read it so something in me thinks I need to read it again.
January 17, 2025
Tattoo this entire book on my body. Unlike anything I've ever read before or ever will read again. My Italian blood, my mother's blood, my ancestors' blood pulsed with every gorgeous, unpunctuated sentence. Wowowowow.
"...this sea finite flayed furrowed by ships carrying centuries gold millennia wines spices oils handicrafts freemen slaves This sea struck by waves by lights which never forgets a vessel a lighthouse a house This sea of buried dead And back come the millennia and centuries past the buried and reanimated dead and dark women hunched shrunken They weave cloth by the sea They wait rip stitch add rip hook gather They give substance to the sea A sea written drawn corporeal They make it the open closed body of the age-old sea barred with columns with vessels with lighthouses Sea of war sea of earth paper sea of flesh paper Egyptian Sicilian African sea Italian sea Sea of Spain France Greece Albania Ronan sea inked handcrafted articulated sea fatigued never tired of setting forth Mediterranean"
"...this sea finite flayed furrowed by ships carrying centuries gold millennia wines spices oils handicrafts freemen slaves This sea struck by waves by lights which never forgets a vessel a lighthouse a house This sea of buried dead And back come the millennia and centuries past the buried and reanimated dead and dark women hunched shrunken They weave cloth by the sea They wait rip stitch add rip hook gather They give substance to the sea A sea written drawn corporeal They make it the open closed body of the age-old sea barred with columns with vessels with lighthouses Sea of war sea of earth paper sea of flesh paper Egyptian Sicilian African sea Italian sea Sea of Spain France Greece Albania Ronan sea inked handcrafted articulated sea fatigued never tired of setting forth Mediterranean"
Read
November 13, 2025no star rating for this one because I didn’t want to skew the very few reviews for this book too negatively. But yeah I give this one 2, sorry. It was masterfully executed, brilliantly written, and challenges every expectation we have of a novel. But it was a TORTUROUS READ. I never in all my life thought I would say this but, yeah, commas are important! Periods too! I get what the author was trying to do, but I think what she was trying to convey with the lack of punctuation was not worth the actual physical pain it caused me to read this book. Also TOO MANY LISTS WOMAN! Sorry, I love a list, I really do. But 4 pages of different kinds of flowers had me reaching for the gun in my bedside table (iykyn). 1 star for the fact that it is an ingenious novel that deserves the love of the masses (just not from me) and 1 star for the throuple—very progressive.
March 7, 2024
I’m so happy I finally finished this book. In reality it’s probably a 2.8/3.
Ok at first this was actually really good. I loved the narrator’s internal musings, and I loved the way she talked about food and how our hands carry the wisdom of generations before us. I think it’s a beautiful sentiment, & it’s never something I thought of. Our hands embrace and touch a multitude of things and allow us to be able to transmute feelings and thoughts into actions.
HOWEVER, after the second chapter things got sooo BORING. I tried to read this before bed but it was a bad idea because all her thoughts are so drawn out sometimes and difficult to understand when you’re sleepy. She would get REALLY repetitive, some things didn’t make sense, and there were moments where for 3 whole pages she’d just list a bunch of different foods HUH!?!?! In the midst of all this there were really beautiful lines. I think if you want a book that you can actively pull apart and really dive deep with, then I suppose this is that book? But this was not a short nor a light read. I’m honestly glad I finished it already…
Ok at first this was actually really good. I loved the narrator’s internal musings, and I loved the way she talked about food and how our hands carry the wisdom of generations before us. I think it’s a beautiful sentiment, & it’s never something I thought of. Our hands embrace and touch a multitude of things and allow us to be able to transmute feelings and thoughts into actions.
HOWEVER, after the second chapter things got sooo BORING. I tried to read this before bed but it was a bad idea because all her thoughts are so drawn out sometimes and difficult to understand when you’re sleepy. She would get REALLY repetitive, some things didn’t make sense, and there were moments where for 3 whole pages she’d just list a bunch of different foods HUH!?!?! In the midst of all this there were really beautiful lines. I think if you want a book that you can actively pull apart and really dive deep with, then I suppose this is that book? But this was not a short nor a light read. I’m honestly glad I finished it already…
July 31, 2024
Well, this was a terrific surprise: a haunting, spellbinding, and deeply moving portrait of a woman trying to find herself after the death of her husband. She cooks. And, man, does she cook. There are very long passages about the food she cooks and the food she eats. And in the course of this, she not only starts to see life, but she learns that she loves women. There's also a curious formalistic experiment afoot here, in that commas and periods have been elided from the text. (Dashes and colons are fair game, however.) And the effect is not as difficult to follow as you would expect. It actually adds a kind of tension, similar to the way Lucy Ellmann approached DUCKS, NEWBURYPORT, that creates a beautiful portrait of interior life. I truly loved this novel and I'm saddened that Castaldi passed away a few years ago. If this is the level that she wrote at, I'm keen to check out more of her work.
November 17, 2024
I can’t say I loved this book or even understood it that much. I do think it’s flawless though? It’s waxing and repetitive and slow and dull and that’s the point of it. It was beautiful to read especially when I understood what was going on. More than anything this book captured an atmosphere, of a soft and slow Italian village, of deep intimacies between women, of feasts of Italian food, and of the cosmological, mythological chaos and grandeur of the Mediterranean across space and time and the universe itself.
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January 23, 2024ef ég eignast einskumælandi elskhuga þá :
"she was a botticellian creature"
áhugavert: engir punktar, engar kommur, ást og unaður eldri kvenna, flæði/matur/gróteskar lýsingar settar fram á léttvægan hátt
"she was a botticellian creature"
áhugavert: engir punktar, engar kommur, ást og unaður eldri kvenna, flæði/matur/gróteskar lýsingar settar fram á léttvægan hátt
May 6, 2024
Without punctuation, with myriad dense, repeated phrases, the musicality of this hymn to food and love is palpable. Inarguably a work of genius, a text as giving as it is withholding - to persevere is to reach a state that almost transcends reading.
Want to read
July 21, 2024…. compared to helene cixous …. 🤨 fine i will read
December 26, 2024
4.5 stars
March 30, 2024
This book swirled around me, beautifully confusing yet so clear.
“I didn't want to be a man I didn't have a man's mask inside my soul I'm just a woman-Lord—I sleep alone At night when I go to bed in my lonely sheets that gape like a shroud empty of hands I feel lost Lord tell me you still love me Love me forever for all eternity in the waves of the cosmos-sheet where life is frescoed I feel alone and lost, my God My talent can't save me Nor am I sustained by the ancient wisdom passed from my mother into my hands that lie bare and alone in the bed where I sleep alone Love me God Love me forever For all eternity” (p. 85)
“I didn't want to be a man I didn't have a man's mask inside my soul I'm just a woman-Lord—I sleep alone At night when I go to bed in my lonely sheets that gape like a shroud empty of hands I feel lost Lord tell me you still love me Love me forever for all eternity in the waves of the cosmos-sheet where life is frescoed I feel alone and lost, my God My talent can't save me Nor am I sustained by the ancient wisdom passed from my mother into my hands that lie bare and alone in the bed where I sleep alone Love me God Love me forever For all eternity” (p. 85)
March 20, 2024
Can’t decide on 3.5 or 4. Loved the first chapter and the use of refrains gave classics vibes. Translation note at end probably pushes it towards a 4.
March 6, 2024
Bellissimo. Loved the style of no punctuation. And the food narratives. Relatable and interesting.
February 13, 2024
Wonderfully experimental in style, this is a love letter to food and Neapolitan tradition, as well as a vivid note on the unpaid labour of women.
January 10, 2025
This had no punctuation and that drove me crazy. Seemed like something I would like (about womanhood, motherhood, female friendships, food, and is also an Italian translation) but that really ruined it for me tbh
January 30, 2025
I struggled with the lack of punctuation - I’ve literally never been so grateful for capital letters. Aesthetics aside, the use of repetition was a fascinating way of grounding certain parts of the story. Loved the connection to food and women.
January 25, 2024
stunning motifs, beautiful writing, and compelling characters. truly a piece of art, i will be buying this so i can read it again and again
January 28, 2024
If you are wlw, read this book.
November 5, 2024
Some beautiful lines mixed in with a lot of content that left me confused.
February 19, 2025
p. 53
dnf. Nah, i cant stand w the absence of punctuation marks n its repetitive narrations anymore.
dnf. Nah, i cant stand w the absence of punctuation marks n its repetitive narrations anymore.
November 22, 2025
Gertrude Steinish poetic celebration of words and food and love between women
"You’re wrong—Reader—a journal preserves the remains of everything we’ve done that we’ve said that we’ve dreamed What we’ve wanted what we’ve had what we’ve shared What we’ve left behind What you’ve said to me what I’ve said to you what I’ve done to you what you’ve done to me What we’ve gone through what we’ve seen The languages we’ve known the people who’ve loved us the ones who’ve hated us the ones who thought we were nobody the ones who were nobody to us What we’ve felt what we’ve eaten what we’ve generated what we’ve thought what we’ve been told what we’ve followed What we’ve believed what we have navigated written counted Everything we’ve traversed What has penetrated us what hasn’t even touched us That God we’ve believed in those angels those dreams those myths those washing machines those detergents those comic books those memories those children those groceries those potatoes those medicines those cuts those stitches those wounds we’ve received and those we’ve given What we’ve pretended not to see and what we didn’t want to hear What we’ve sung sewn combed washed fixed That newspaper that book that window that view those churches those houses those hospitals these roads the entire road we’ve taken What we’re born as what we die as What we’ve left kissed struck What has kissed us what has burned us That hair those shoes those closets those streets those colors those planes those buildings we’ve visited those crimes we’ve perpetrated What we haven’t done said dreamed What we could have what we wished we had what we didn’t put out what we didn’t leave eat feel what we didn’t even want What we were not born as what we did not die as What I didn’t tell you what you didn’t tell me what I didn’t see in you what I didn’t say to you Everything we didn’t go through what we didn’t read defeat love what we didn’t follow what didn’t kiss us what didn’t burn us What we didn’t say to each other what we didn’t share The hand we didn’t give the laundry we didn’t hang the closets we didn’t open those crimes we didn’t see those faces those voices that world we didn’t know those stars we dreamed of What I wanted to give to you do to you eat you vomit you What we are not what we won’t be what we never were What they’ll leave with us when we no longer see hear feel What the earth will know of us hitting us clump by clump under the flowers under the plaque in the middle of all the other flowers other plaques other stones other graves other dead"
"You’re wrong—Reader—a journal preserves the remains of everything we’ve done that we’ve said that we’ve dreamed What we’ve wanted what we’ve had what we’ve shared What we’ve left behind What you’ve said to me what I’ve said to you what I’ve done to you what you’ve done to me What we’ve gone through what we’ve seen The languages we’ve known the people who’ve loved us the ones who’ve hated us the ones who thought we were nobody the ones who were nobody to us What we’ve felt what we’ve eaten what we’ve generated what we’ve thought what we’ve been told what we’ve followed What we’ve believed what we have navigated written counted Everything we’ve traversed What has penetrated us what hasn’t even touched us That God we’ve believed in those angels those dreams those myths those washing machines those detergents those comic books those memories those children those groceries those potatoes those medicines those cuts those stitches those wounds we’ve received and those we’ve given What we’ve pretended not to see and what we didn’t want to hear What we’ve sung sewn combed washed fixed That newspaper that book that window that view those churches those houses those hospitals these roads the entire road we’ve taken What we’re born as what we die as What we’ve left kissed struck What has kissed us what has burned us That hair those shoes those closets those streets those colors those planes those buildings we’ve visited those crimes we’ve perpetrated What we haven’t done said dreamed What we could have what we wished we had what we didn’t put out what we didn’t leave eat feel what we didn’t even want What we were not born as what we did not die as What I didn’t tell you what you didn’t tell me what I didn’t see in you what I didn’t say to you Everything we didn’t go through what we didn’t read defeat love what we didn’t follow what didn’t kiss us what didn’t burn us What we didn’t say to each other what we didn’t share The hand we didn’t give the laundry we didn’t hang the closets we didn’t open those crimes we didn’t see those faces those voices that world we didn’t know those stars we dreamed of What I wanted to give to you do to you eat you vomit you What we are not what we won’t be what we never were What they’ll leave with us when we no longer see hear feel What the earth will know of us hitting us clump by clump under the flowers under the plaque in the middle of all the other flowers other plaques other stones other graves other dead"
March 2, 2024
This has been my talent My God Love me God Love me for all eternity I have scattered the flavors and scents of my cooking across the world Accept my gift–Reader–I have fought my battle in life with food
This book arouses a certain feeling of hunger and confusion. Castaldi's detailed descriptions of food and recipes are exquisite; you can strongly feel her love for Italian cuisine.
The gist of the story is about a middle-aged widow finding new purpose in life as her daughter prepares to leave the nest. She immerses herself in cooking and lesbian love, inviting other lonely women to rediscover themselves. However, it's easy to become distracted by the lengthy explanations of food and recipes, losing track of the story's focus.
Castaldi reclaims domesticitude, detaching it from patriarchy. For Rosa, her passion for domestic matters is not a form of servitude to patriarchy. It's a labor of love, a way for her to preserve and breathe new life into the memories her deceased mother left her. She cooks for her own pleasure and the happiness of others—her daughter, neighbor-slash-ex-lover, new lovers, and customers. This domesticitude is not restrictive but empowering. It gives Rosa purpose in life and, consequently, opens the door to new loves. She discovers herself through these actions.
I’m a woman I’m a woman–my God–I take care of the bones of the world I’m tired of the burden Give me a flower Give me a kiss–Reader–Give me a flower give me a kiss–my God–make me feel like a woman without chains again
However, this book is challenging to read for several reasons. First, the format itself—Castaldi chooses not to use any punctuation marks like periods or commas. This creates a narrative that feels like a freely flowing stream of sentences, open to interpretation by readers. Is it a question, a statement, or something else? Additionally, like the chorus of a song, several paragraphs are repetitive, and even if you choose not to read them in full, you still know the full narration. Lastly, the lengthy descriptions of food and recipes breakdown overshadow the plot itself.
April 19, 2024
I adored the grasping en gluttonous writing, the stream of consciousness, lyrical prose with long, flowing sentences, and contemplation on food, friendship, life and love. In particular, chapter 3 is a chef's kiss, and the queer sex passages are finger-licking good!
The Hunger of Women might not be everyone's taste, but it is a literary feast for those who crave something special. This experimental novel has an unique writing style without punctuation. It was challenging to follow the flow, but nonetheless rewarding. This book will definitely by in my top 5 this reading year.
<< I watched her as she talked and I saw in her the woman she was Full of expectations of fears of fury of anger of calm of torment all embedded in her life like scarlet marks of the hopes in my own soul Now she was opening her soul to me and showing me the wounds and holes and seams (...) Then I gave her a recipe and together we went to make brioche just like my mother did with her ancient culinary wisdom You mix flour eggs sugar milk butter and yeast You work the batter in a big bowl and smack it raising your arm high over the golden wheat The dough leavens and swells like an erupting volcano With the vehemence and violence released you leave it to rest for a hour Then bake the product of this joyous battle in a hot oven for half an hour and you have a little mound of gold and stardust and golden wheat like a plow-furrowed field >>
The Hunger of Women might not be everyone's taste, but it is a literary feast for those who crave something special. This experimental novel has an unique writing style without punctuation. It was challenging to follow the flow, but nonetheless rewarding. This book will definitely by in my top 5 this reading year.
<< I watched her as she talked and I saw in her the woman she was Full of expectations of fears of fury of anger of calm of torment all embedded in her life like scarlet marks of the hopes in my own soul Now she was opening her soul to me and showing me the wounds and holes and seams (...) Then I gave her a recipe and together we went to make brioche just like my mother did with her ancient culinary wisdom You mix flour eggs sugar milk butter and yeast You work the batter in a big bowl and smack it raising your arm high over the golden wheat The dough leavens and swells like an erupting volcano With the vehemence and violence released you leave it to rest for a hour Then bake the product of this joyous battle in a hot oven for half an hour and you have a little mound of gold and stardust and golden wheat like a plow-furrowed field >>
dnf
August 20, 2024DNF at 47%. I’m unsure whether I’m disappointed in the book or in myself. Almost halfway through this book I thought I would give it 4 or 5 stars. It started off very strong, with beautiful prose and evocative imagery. The deliberate use of repetition was artful at first, but as I went on, it eventually became tedious. I struggled for some time thinking about whether or not I should try to force myself through the second half, but to be honest, I just have so many other books I’m excited to read, and I’ve lost interest in the characters here. I found it difficult to connect with them from the beginning, and it was really the prose that was engaging me at first. I won’t force myself to finish when I have other books waiting for me.
December 15, 2024
I viscerally loathed this book in the first instance because I do not think any book should ever contain phrases like ‘permeated by the fullness of our lesbian love’ in the second instance because I hate the mystical feminine and I hate mysticism about the feminine I hate unearned repetitiveness I hate sentimentality I hate cheap little addresses to the Reader I hate the anorexic's preoccupation with food and after reading this whole thing I began to hate recipes and food altogether I hate this stylistic gimmick which felt completely superfluous since the sentences in this book were in all other respects completely conventional, or sub-conventional, which is to say, poor
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