Customer Reviews

Liquor: A Novel

5 star:		(34)
4 star:		(7)
3 star:		(2)
2 star:		(3)
1 star:		(1)

 

 

I'll admit it... I've loved Poppy Z Brite secretly since I first read Drawing Blood. She knows how to make her characters come alive, and she knows how to keep her readers turning pages. I will admit also that I approached this novel with some trepidation. The last couple of Poppy's novels which I'd read were moving away from what I regarded as her strengths -- characterization, whimsy, and ... believe it or not, hope -- into the realm of splatterpunk -- gore for the sake of gore. With Liquor, she seems to have regained touch with her muse. At its heart, Liquor is a love story. Love of food. Love of cooking. Love of a dream. Love of a longtime companion and friend. It makes you want to believe that with a little luck and a lot of hard work, dreams can come true. It has its moments of grotesquerie, of course. Kidney recipes. The Napoleon Mask. The potato peeler incident. But it also has moments of hysterical irony. Chapter 16 in particular had me laughing so hard that I had to put the book down to catch my breath. I know she'll keep writing. I only hope that she is able to maintain the quality she has demonstrated in this novel, without burning herself out on the genre. Thank you, Poppy.

My favorite Brite book yet. Whether writting about ultraviolence, rock divas, or chefs, she is the best. I almost said she is like many writers in one, but a consistency in her voice extends from her very first rambling and flowery novel 'Lost Souls' (1992) to this sparer, much more entertaining one. Instead I'll just say she is a writer who continues to grow and change, which is a Good Thing. 'Liquor' has been compared to 'A Confederacy Of Dunces.' Like that book, the main characters of 'Liquor' are wonderful but the secondary ones really shine too. I was left wondering 'is Lenny as scarey as he seems?' 'will Terrence become a great cook?' 'will New Orleans foodies eventually get sck of this concept?' I hope next year's sequel answers some of these questions!!

Start out with likable and believable characters. Add equal parts suspense, humor and romance and season with the most realistic portrayal of New Orleans you're bound to ever read and you have Liquor, by Poppy Z. Brite.
It's hard to say what impresses me most by this book. It could be the fact that it has neither too much or too little of anything. It's a perfect balance of romance, suspense and humor. All fitting perfectly to tell a very satisfying story
Maybe it's the dialog. Liquor manages the rare feat of having characters say things in the way that, you know, people naturally speak. Ms. Brite is known to say that dialog is her weak point. Either she's artificially humble or the woman needs to have her head examined. Her dialog is brilliant!
It could be the completely believable characters. People who fit to no literary or P.C. stereotype, yet you can't help but love and root for each and every one of them (with a couple of exceptions)!
The book manages to be funny without being ridiculous. Maybe that's my favorite thing?
Her descriptions of New Orleans show a complete love and knowledge of the city, warts and all. No sappy romaticizations (as with other local authors) here, folks. Just the beautiful, dysfunctional city I've been blessed and cursed to live in for the past eight years.
Having worked a number of years bartending and waitressing, I was almost offended by the attitude toward front-of-house restaurant workers. Then I reminded myself that this is exactly the way most cooks feel about us and Ms. Brite was forgiven. I could definately relate to the bartender, Laura's, reaction to being called a waitress and confess to laughing coffee right out of my nose when I read it
Some of the characters were obviously based on real-life New Orleans celebrities (including one VERY famous New Orleans chef, who's reaction to his character I would have gladly paid to see).
The relationship between G-Man and Ricky was both touching and believable. I almost went a little misty reading the description of how G-Man felt about Ricky. Why can't all men be like G-Man?
All in all, Liquor managed the almost impossible feat of being a novel I wouldn't change a thing in.
Well, I might cchange one thing...
Poppy Z. Brite's husband is a very good chef and Liquor IS the perfect concept for a New Orleans restaurant. So, where is it??????

So much of this arguing about New Orleans. I have never been there, indeed never been in the United States, yet I managed to enjoy Liquor anyway. One joy of reading is to understand how others see their world. The early works of PZB showed how she saw her city as a younger person. Liquor, The Devil You Know, and The Value of X show how change she sees it now. I find a writer's development interesting and will continue to read her work!

I find myself in serious disagreement with the above "reader from New Orleans," who may be IN New Orleans but I doubt he is FROM New Orleans. Take a look at your own cliched grasp of the city before accusing this talented author of having one, Sir! "Alligator tour?" "Junko blues?" "Okinawa Spa"? None of these have anything to do with where locals spend our time, but it does sound like the words of a transplant with "local envy," a common affliction. Sweetie, just ADMIT you're really from Alabama, there's no shame in it!

Also, a real New Orleans native would know that the Lenny character draws at least as much inspiration from Al Copeland as from Emeril. But this reader "from New Orleans" probably doesn't know who Al Copeland is.

I just finished Liquor last night after seeing it reccomended on a local food board. I had signed on to write my own review, not to refute someone else's, but if there's one thing that gets my goat, it's people who know just enough about New Orleans to spout a few names trying to act like lifelong experts. I found Liquor to be an essential, funny, "chawming" New Orleans book, and anyone who says different probably thinks the best po-boys can be found at Popeye's!

A puzzling thing about this book is that it bills itself as a comic novel. But a bland comedy indeed: I didn't find much to laugh about, except maybe the name of the mob hit at the old restaurant, "The Red Gravy Murder." No, this book didn't provoke out-loud gaffawing as does a John Kennedy Toole. I DID come to this book wanting to enjoy it, not having read much Brite before but being interested in food and New Orleans. And ultimately I'm glad I just checked it out from the public library. I agree with the previous disappointed reviewers that the characters seemed wooden and subservient to a predictable, linear rags-to-riches plot line. The two protagonists are tasteless as cardboard. The Mouton villain was a purely one-dimensional stock character, predictably preprogrammed toward a cocaine-fueled freakout and thus nicely fitting the bill for a good-old-fashioned New Orleans supernatural yarn. The Lenny character was not a cleverly or artfully lampooned Emeril. And why would such a celebrity restaurateur need to go in league with--and coddle, even--a couple of unknown chefs when he's already shutting down one of his own restaurants and putting his own people out of work? Why wouldn't the celebrity chef just steal the unknown chef's liquor idea and carry it out by himself with some tested employees? Because then the book wouldn't have an Emeril character, that's why. This book is a good idea in theory, melding two hot, trendy concepts together (New Orleans and food), but it's just doesn't really stick in your belly. It's a decent enough read but not a standout work: neither a quintessential food fiction nor a book that memorably captures New Orleans without dancing around the usual threadbare clichés, with a few mentions of St. Joseph, "Yats," and the 9th Ward to add a little more off-the-beaten-track seasoning for the tourista reader. For a literary tour of New Orleans, it's much better than your standard alligator-feeding swamp tour, but it's nowhere near like listening to junko blues all night long before having a lie-down at the Okinawa Spa on Chef Menteur at Sunday morning 3 a.m., then rolling out to the Rigolets at dawn for the sunrise and early-morning spliff.

Frankly, I heard some things about this book that I thought would put me off, but one of the cooks at my restaurant basicly shoved it in my face and said "You HAVE to read this." Well, I wasn't put off by the stuff at all, and I could hardly beleive how acurately the author showed the life and work of chefs, line cooks, even "minor" but important kitchen workers like dishwashers. I know she is married to a chef but it's hard to beleive anybody could get it so right without working in kitchens themself. I liked Liquor even better than Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential, which was my bible up to now.

I picked up Liquor on the recommendation of a review I read in a gay newspaper. The review interested me because of its claim that unlike so many 'gay novels' that make a big deal of the characters sexuality, this was a story about regular people, some of which happened to be gay -- like me and most of my friends, who are comfortable with our sexuality but don't walk around every minute thinking 'I'm Gay! I'm Gay!'

Liquor filled this promise better than I even hoped, and I daresay it has the most realistic gay characters I've ever read about. I'm not sure I should focus on this only because I wouldn't want squeamish straight readers to avoid the book for this reason. Contrary to one of the reviews below (which appears to be a personal attack by a bigot who clearly hasn't read the book, Liquor contains no gay sex, in fact it contains no sex at all. It is the story of two young chefs (yes, they are lovers, a committed couple together for many years) who set out to open a restaurant. Any reader who fixates on the sexuality of these characters with everything else going on in the story is obviously more interested in promoting a bigoted a agenda than writing a real review. To give you an idea of just how accesible this book is, I gave a copy to my devout Catholic grandmother, who loved it.

Brite's knowledge and love of the New Orleans food scene comes through on every page, and anyone who reads it will learn a lot of interesting details about that scene. I'm now hoping I can visit New Orleans on my next vacation to experience some of the culinary delights she describes with such skill and verve.

I first heard of this novel through Booklist, as I run a small lending library attached to a kitchen store and I try to keep up with the foodie books. When I ordered Liquor, I didn't know what to expect from a former (eek!) horror writer, but I can't remember the last time I was so pleasantly surprised by a book. The characters are vibrant, the food details are appetizing, and the story itself really is "a love letter to New Orleans". Bravo, Ms. Brite, bring on the sequel!

Poppy Z. Brite has left behind the goths in favor of another subculture, the culinary world. Her husband is a chef, giving her an insider's perspective on what goes on in a restaurant kitchen. Liquor is about two guys who want to achieve the American dream--running their own wildly successful business after working themselves up from minimum wage jobs.

In a lean style, much less verbose than that of her older work, Brite tell a rapid and uncomplicated tale about two guys setting out to start a new restaurant. A clear goal, without a clear path to get to it. While there are some shady characters that thicken the plot and challenge the protagonists, the meat of the story is about the necessary challenges every restaurateur must overcome, from finding a location, to raising enough money, to putting together a staff, and creating a menu.

The novel didn't leave me pondering about themes, metaphors, and deeper meanings. It is a fairly simple tale. But I enjoyed the book because I have always had an interest in the culinary world after growing up with an amateur gourmet cook for a father. Considering the popularity of the Food Network, I'd say I'm not alone with my food fascination.

New Orleans is integral to the novel. Liquor can't take place anywhere else. It made me wish that I've lived in a place long enough to feel comfortable writing about it and treating it as a living, breathing character as Brite does with New Orleans. Perhaps if I stay put in my current city long enough, I'll be able to do so. Liquor also made me think about the unusual amount of restaurants in my small city. You can't walk across the street in the evenings without tripping over a waiter or a line-cook collapsed on the ground (quite possibly drunk) after a long day's shift. After reading Liquor, I better appreciate and understand them.