Betty's Revenge

Don’t know what I was doing back in 1999 that kept me from reading My Kitchen Wars. That's the year it came out–a memoir by Betty Fussell, best known as a food writer. So I probably wouldn’t have read it, even if I had heard about it. As I generally don’t read about food nearly as much as I eat it. 

What a shame. My loss--as I’ve learned after finally checking out a copy from the library. Marvelous book. Betty Fussell has a great gift. I’m a little envious, to tell you the truth. The way her sentences so gracefully and easily flow from one thought to the next, as though she wrote them in one effortless sitting? I'll never be that good--alas...

By and large, the book's a memoir of her 30–something-year marriage to Paul Fussell, also a gifted writer, best known for The Great War and Modern Memory, an analysis of World War I’s impact on literature.

Paul Fussell served in World War II–awarded a Bronze Star and a Purple Heart for his bravery on the battlefield in Europe. He came home from the war and spent the rest of his life writing in one way or another about what he experienced. Much love for that.

Hurry up and read it, people!

But when it came to his marriage to Betty Fussell? Man, what a dick. He played around with women and men, preferably of the teenage persuasion. And went out of his way to make Betty feel like she had no writing talent–probably because he knew she had more than he did. And if he encouraged her to write she'd eclipse him in sales and reputation.

There are many funny, satirical or poignant parts to My Kitchen Wars. My personal favorite–horny heffa that I am–is Betty’s glorious account of her affair with a writer named Dave. The one she conducted after putting up with years of Paul’s bullshit. Hey, man–what’s good for the goose…

It’s straight out of Thelma & Louise–you know, the bedroom scene where Brad Pitt’s character shows Geena Davis’s character what she’s been missing.

It starts like this…

“I knew he had had many affairs in Europe, so I was not surprised by his skill, even as I relished it.” 

And then, takes a shot at Paul. “This was an unknown world, Paul and I had been married for nearly a decade before we’d learned about The Clitoris and then only from a book, which Paul read first and then passed on to me.” 

Love how the clitoris is so important, she capitalizes it. Wait, there's more…

“All that time I’d wondered exactly what a female orgasm was and whether I’d ever had one.”

And then she just lets go...

“Now my body felt like one of my meals, the interstices of ears like snails, the hollow of armpits like the hollow of a pitted avocado, the smooth valleys between thigh and groin like sauce parisienne.” 

And finally…“`How absurd,”said my brain. “How divine,” said my bod.”

And so on. Yes, there’s more. So deft. So funny. So clever. Just flows. Bet it pissed off Paul Fussell when he read it. As I’m sure he was paying attention when Betty’s book came out in `99–unlike yours truly.  

Can't say I feel sorry for him. He got what he deserved for underestimating and tormenting the brilliant young woman he was lucky enough to marry.