In this “outrageous, superb novel”(Philadelphia Inquirer), an obese, food-obsessed obituary writer witnesses a gangland slaying, which forces him to embark on a rollicking cross-country odyssey that will alter his eating habits, his weight, and, ultimately, his identity.
A native New Yorker, Daniel Akst is a well-known journalist who has worked at the LA Times and Wall Street Journal and now writes a monthly column in the Sunday New York Times. He also writes regularly for the Wall Street Journal culture pages, and has appeared in many other publications, including American Heritage, the Boston Globe, the Christian Science Monitor, Civilization, Technology Review, the Washington Monthly, and on both public radio and television. His first book, Wonder Boy (Scribners), chronicled the eye-popping ZZZZ Best fraud perpetrated by teenage entrepreneur Barry Minkow, and was named one of the 10 best of 1990 by Business Week. He is also the author of The Webster Chronicle published by BlueHen in October 2001.
Akst is a graduate of the University of Pennsylvania who spent 13 years in Los Angeles before moving to the Hudson Valley, where he lives with his wife and two sons.
This book certainly has a place in the canon of Fat Literature. I read this long ago, in 1997, when I was much thinner (though still fat), and while I thought it was good, it did not move me the way it did throughout this second read. I picked it up again because I have been considering weight loss surgery more seriously and I remembered that WLS was a big part of SBO.
I loved this book. It was very personal for me. It catalogs all of the indignities (as well as comforts!) of being fat and considers how the newly-thin Burl must grieve for his lost identity as a fat man. Thinking he will find himself when he loses all of his weight through what sounds like a sleeve gastrectomy, he actually loses himself, as if he *were* the extra weight he was carrying. What this book makes evident is that mind and body are connected and cannot be separated the way the "you are not your weight" mentality would have us believe. You are your weight. You are your body.
The novel doesn't offer any clear direction as to what this means. Since we are our bodies, should fat people try even harder to lose weight, or should society try harder to accept that some people are just fat, due to genetics, addiction, or psychological trauma? One of the reasons that I was (and am still) considering WLS is because I feel like people don't really see me: they just see fat. But after reading Burl's story, after reading of the indignities and the tremendous grief he suffers after losing what is literally himself, I am less certain. Even at the ending of the novel, an ending which is supposedly happy, I still found myself grieving for Burl, and grieving for my possibly lost self.
Other themes: NY/NJ, Gangland, Gastronomy, Tonga, Sumo, Fat Acceptance, Newspapers, Salt Lake City, Homelessness, Cults
I loved this book. It was a fast paced adventure with so many twists and turns that you absolutely could not foresee. It was fantastic fun! A little shocked by a pretty abrupt ending but loved it nonetheless.
This was, to me, an utterly bizarre tale. At times uncomfortably intimate, it does make beautiful use of language -- a novel for writers. The division of time is such that it was almost like reading three books -- dense, heavy, not a quick read -- but the payoff was worthwhile.
I purchased this book because it promised to be about gourmet cooking and gourmet dining. I filed it under "culinary fiction." It turns out (instead) to be a novel about New York City and Las Vegas and Salt Lake City. And about dieting and lap-band surgery and morbid obesity. And about journalism. And about varieties of sex, not all of them pleasant to contemplate. And about Tongan culture, and homelessness, and murder. It is a bizarre, disturbing, troubling and uncomfortable book. There are funny parts. I had to look up several words (which is always a good thing). It is okay that I read it but, if I knew as much about it at the beginning as I do now, I would not have.
The sympathy for Burk was a roller coaster for me. My heart would break for him, then I would think, "Wow, what an intelligent guy." , and then he would take off in some ponderous direction that made me feel queasy to think I thought he was a good guy. One of the "twists" in the finale was what I'd guessed from the first few chapters. All in all, I did learn some things, but I wasn't thinking Textbook when I picked it up. I did appreciate the author's insight into his characters psyches.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Funny, well-written, book about appetites, relationships, America, surface appearance, and the search for identity. Burl is charming, sad, and fully engaged my sympathies. So much life is wrapped into this story! Though I applaud Akst's descriptive talents, some of the graphic physical detail stretched me beyond my comfort.
Burl is huge and writes obituaries. He is an accomplished cook. Witnesses a crime and runs off to Utah. Gastric bypass and he becomes thin. Passes himself off as another person. Great vocabulary. Good story.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
An enjoyable novel about life, love and food (oh so much food!). The second half is better than the first, and there are whole chunks that felt unnecessary, but overall I enjoyed it.
This was a horrible book to read in Italy, of all places, where one wants to enjoy food. Burl is a man who cannot control his appetites, and nearly destroys himself because of it. I never connected with the main character, Burl, but kept reading in the hopes that there would be some character development, some revelation to inspire change. He is prodded by life events, but he's a drifter, without any real philosophy or direction, and his wanderings didn't enlighten or entertain. To the contrary, they left me bored and frustrated. The book reminded of me the first time I saw Voltaire's Candide on stage, writhing in agony in my seat so vexed as I was by the main character's stupidity, never realizing that the whole thing was a satire and thus, in a way, the joke was on me. St. Burl's Obituary too, felt like a joke where I wasn't in on the punchline.