Food in Fiction
By Sophie Masson | October 21, 2022 |
In life, people’s days are punctuated by meals. Food is an important part of our lives: of course, we need it for survival, but it’s much more than that. It’s pleasure, it’s penance, it’s anxiety, it’s joy—depending on our relationship with it. Eating together or alone, eating at home or out in restaurants and cafes, eating on the go or around the family table: it’s all part of the fabric of human life, all over the globe.
And in fiction? Well, it always used to puzzle me, as a kid, when people in books never stopped to eat or drink or you never got to hear what was for lunch, if it was mentioned. For me as a child, it was important to know: my diary as a twelve-year-old is full of mentions of the delicious things my mother had cooked up for us that day, or the yummy thing I’d bought at the school canteen that day (which my mother would have considered rubbish) or, conversely, the yuckiness of something I’d been made to try by a friend, such as vegemite—an Australian classic but not to my taste. Sure, I’m from a French background and food was intensely important in our family, but we certainly weren’t alone in that. To read a story in which there was no mention of food at all seemed odd. But to read one in which exotic delights like ginger pop (as in Enid Blyton) were mentioned—often!—was such fun. I had no idea at the time what ginger pop was but it sounded exciting, like the adventures the Famous Five or Secret Seven went on. And when Edmund, in The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, is offered endless Turkish Delight by the White Witch to bribe him to betray his siblings, I was horrified, but understood. Hard to resist Turkish Delight! Growing up through adolescence and into adulthood, I never lost my interest in food and cooking, and never ceased to wonder why in some novels, people seemed to exist on air.
When it came to writing my own books, that was never an issue. Food always appeared, whether glancingly or more substantially, in both my fiction for young readers and for adults. Sometimes it was just for the sheer pleasure of the description, sometimes to evoke an atmosphere, sometimes to symbolize something about a character. I couldn’t imagine leaving it out altogether. In my recent adult novel, for example, A Hundred Words for Butterfly, which is set in the French part of the Basque country, where my mother’s family is from, food functions very much too as an expression of an ancient, distinctive culture and landscape, as well as illuminating certain aspects of family. If you’re interested, the publisher produced a lovely, free digital magazine which featured some of my Basque family recipes as well as entries from a microlit competition they ran, as part of the publicity for my book.
Right now, I’m working on another adult novel in which food—and especially the creation of dishes and meals–is absolutely central, indeed a crucial part of the characters’ emotional journey. That’s a challenge in itself: because of course you can overdo it. You can cook up too rich a stew, you can overwhelm the senses with too many smells and tastes, you can nauseate the reader with too much indigestible detail. You can’t be too self-indulgent; but equally, you can’t be too restrained. It’s a fine line to tread.
I’d read recently a number of contemporary novels which featured food as a central theme—ranging from Jenny Colgan’s Meet Me at The Cupcake Café, to Erica Bauermeister’s The School of Essential Ingredients to Amy Tan’s Joy Luck Club, and others, all of which handled the food theme adeptly and enjoyably and with great diversity too. They all showed something important to me as a writer: in a time when people watch cooking shows for fun and cookbooks sell like, well, hotcakes, at the same time there’s less time for many around the actual stove or table. Getting the balance of ingredients right in a food-themed novel is more important than ever. Sure, they’re about dreams, escape, pleasure: but also about being grounded, about rediscovering simple things, about the basic human joy of creating something delicious that for the enchanted space of a good meal might unite us all.
Over to you: what’s your take on food in fiction, as readers, and writers?
Born in Indonesia of French parents, and brought up in France and Australia, Sophie Masson is the award-winning author of over 70 books for children, young adults and adults. Her latest books include Sydney under Attack (children’s historical novel, Scholastic Australia, 2022) A Hundred Words for Butterfly (adult novella, ES-Press, 2022) and Cock-a-doodle-doo (children’s picture book, (illustrated by Kathy Creamer, little Pink Dog Books, 2022). In 2019, Sophie received an AM (Member, General Division) award in the Order of Australia honours list.
Loved this! Especially having enjoyed your Two Trickster Tales from Russia, which involves one of my favorite childhood memories—berry picking. Yum! So nice to have found the book years ago through this very site. The art work is endearing, too.
I especially love the inclusion of food when it’s a character or plot mechanism. Like water, food is life, which means great story material!
If a character’s lover always brings her a pastry and fresh juice, and then one morning she instead wakes to find he’s left her fig newtons—something is up!
Thanks for highlighting the richness of including food. Donald Maass recently spoke on this, and between you both I’ve heard the call.
Thank you, Susan. So glad you enjoyed Two Trickster Tales from Russia–and food certainly plays an important role in those tales, doesn’t it? And I love that image of the sudden change in the lover’s breakfast offering: definitely would signal something was up!
I like this post today. We don’t see much out there about food in fiction. As a reader, I love to read what the characters are dining on, especially when it’s a cultural dish. Characters who cook in the kitchen and get chatty about serious issues draw me in quickly. The kitchen is always the heart of the house and in real life, lots of fascinating conversation goes on between the table and stovetop. As a writer, my characters eat and drink a lot! In my mystery Greylock, which featured Russian history, I did a kitchen scene with the male protagonist cooking spicy Chicken Tabaka, which led to a spicy sex scene. In my WIP, the male protagonist is Irish, so I’m now cooking old world Celtic meals so I can eat what my character is eating. He’s also a whiskey drinker and I’m treating myself to Sexton Irish whiskey cocktails!
Ooh, cooking the food your characters are cooking is the perfect way to get both into the character and the atmosphere–with the bonus of a great meal afterwards :-) Sounds like your fiction is full of deliciousness–must be a pleasure to create.
I have plenty of food, cooking, and attitudes about both – and cleaning up – in my two novels so far, because the kitchen and gastronomy are such fertile places to connect other essential parts of life.
Even loading a dishwasher or bring food to the table has potential, and “The man cooks!” is high praise. And an indication that he may be a suitable person for a friend.
And what better way to show how exhausted a character is than by indicating she ate an ancient stale emergency granola bar – for the calories – because she didn’t have enough energy to climb the stairs to the kitchen and eat real food?
Absolutely, Alice! You immediately understand the character’s state of mind and exhaustion of body…and those conversations in the kitchen, where people can be both relaxed and busy, are great ways of eliciting confidences between characters. And yes, the man who can cook, and loves too, can certainly function as a great romantic prospect!
Love this post, Sophie. Since I write family stories, food plays an important role–not just in whetting the appetite (my readers tells me :) but showing how the story people relate to one another and moving the plot forward. Even a simple detail like sitting on cardboard boxes, dipping bread in a cup of tea for supper says volumes.
I discussed this very thing with David Corbett during UnCon….that my main character was able to find some connection with her deceased mother by preparing long-time family recipes–the aromas, the taste can bring you back.
That is beautiful, Elizabeth–and so true to life, too… After my mother died, some years ago, one day I began to make one of the dishes I always remember her cooking(she was an absolutely brilliant cook, both traditional and innovative). It was a gorgeous Basque fish soup called ttoro, which I’d tried to make a few times before then but somehow never could quite get totally right, couldn’t quite reproduce the actual texture of the smells and tastes. But that day, somehow I felt as though she was at my elbow, guiding me–and the ttoro turned out perfectly, just as she used to make it. It was an extraordinary experience…Since then, I’ve been able to get it right, every time.
Sophie, that is beautiful. I finally made my mother’s eggplant when my husband roasted it on hot coals and gave me that blackened beauty. Wrote about it for This I Believe: https://thisibelieve.org/essay/41911/
Thank you very much, Vijaya…not only for your kind words about what I said, but also for pointing me in the direction of your truly lovely essay. Which I loved, and which brought tears to my eyes too…
Absolutely, Vijaya–it’s a great narrative tool, and creates vivid snapshots for the reader.
It bothers me, Sophie, when protagonists don’t eat, so thank you for this nourishing post. My WIP is a detective story, and I realized as I read this that what they eat or don’t eat helps define some of my characters. My protagonist eats alone for the most part and favors big breakfasts even for his evening meal. He’s always pleased to have a lunch or dinner companion. When he is faced with eating something he wouldn’t choose, it reminds of meals in the army. The women in that book exist on leafy vegetables, dry toast, black coffee, and on special occasions, by sharing things they would not dare eat all of. Meals can also help identify the time of day for my reader, and the gravity and importance of an event. The killer is revealed at a commemorative coffee and dessert for the victim. All this probably reveals as much about me as it does my protagonist.
Glad you like the post, Bob! Love the pictures conjured up by your characters’ food choices: certainly sets the scene, and points to their personalities. Great setting for a final reveal, too.
I like using food as a window into my characters’ world, culture, and character.
Thanks for this most useful post, Sophie. Food is a powerful universal symbol in fiction.It can signify concepts that all cultures can identify with: control or the lack of it; insider or outsider status; wealth or poverty; selfishness or generosity.
Absolutely, Christine! As all cultures eat, food can function in fiction as a powerful unifying symbol–and also, conversely, as you point out, as an immediate example of differences. Perfect fertile ground for exploration of character and narrative!
The importance of food is never lost on this foodie. In my most recent yet-to-be-published novel, my main character’s pause for pie and coffee provides the clarity of thought that gives him a much needed insight. And he and the supporting character (his love interest) share an inside joke about about an aversion to liver. Their group-dates all center around food and drink as well. It was great fun to write!
I can well imagine it was fun to write, Brian–including moments around food can give such texture and connection to character interactions and atmosphere within novels!
Good stuff, Sophie! I write two foodie or culinary cozy mystery series, each set in a food-related retail business, and always include recipes so the reader can recreate the food she’s just read about. In the cozy, the crime damages the social order of the community. While law enforcement restores external order through arrest and prosecution, the amateur sleuth restores the internal order of the community. And what does that better than food?
Absolutely, Leslie! Love your insights about external and internal order–and oh my goodness, yes, recipes to recreate the food in the novel are a fabulous reader enticement!
This post made me realize how much I love reading dinner preps and dining in stories I read and write. I hadn’t thought about it before. I have to laugh, though, at how many times in a romantic story the protagonists make scrambled eggs. Must be the go-to for something quick and easy and filling. Especially after a long night of, um, togetherness.
Haha, love that observation about the morning-after scrambled eggs! Hadn’t thought of it before–but you are absolutely right :-)
As a child, I enjoyed reading Brian Jacques’ books, which include descriptions of food so detailed you can recreate the recipes!
My current WIP is set in a fantasy world with a number of cultures, and many of their foods are mentioned – fresh fish baked with citron, dumplings, sticky buns, crispy duck, chewy noodles, floral-tasting fruit, spiced cider…
Thank you for this! I had heard or was told once that no one wants to hear about what your characters are eating, and that it slows down the action, but I’ve always enjoyed knowing what characters are eating, like Frodo whose adventure sees him eating the best (farmer Maggot’s mushrooms I think) and the worst (probably lembas at the end, they were both so sick of them), or the feasts at Hogwarts, and definitely Turkish Delight. I’ve wanted some ever since I read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.
Sophie, your publisher sounds like an author’s dream!
The degree to which food is mentioned, and even more, described, might depend on the genre of the the book and the atmosphere the writer is trying to evoke.
In my present story, inadequate unpalatable meals are almost symbolic of the misery and injustice of life in a tent camp following a natural disaster. Later, scavenged food is the focus of survival for a community choosing to live outside the camp. When, inevitably, there is no more food to scavenge, the community will be forced to disperse.
Food can serve almost unlimited purposes for an author.
Totally agree that food is essential — and fun — in fiction! Meanwhile, I always wonder about stories where the characters seem to know every exact specific kind of bird, tree, or flower in view…