The Epicure's Lament

by Kate Christensen

Hugo Whittier–failed poet and former kept man–is a wily misanthrope with a taste for whiskey, women, and his own cooking. Afflicted with a rare disease that will be fatal unless he quits smoking, Hugo retreats to his once aristocratic family’s dilapidated mansion, determined to smoke himself to death without forfeiting any of his pleasures. To his chagrin, the world that he has forsaken is not quite finished with him. First, his sanctimonious older brother moves in, closely followed by his estranged wife, their alleged daughter, and his gay uncle. Infuriated at the violation of his sanctum, Hugo devises hilariously perverse ploys to send the intruders packing. Yet the unexpected consequences of his schemes keep forcing him to reconsider, however fleetingly, the more wholesome ingredients of love, and life itself.

• ISBN10: 038572098X
• ISBN13: 9780385720984
• Publish Date: 25 January 2005 (first published 17 February 2004)
• Publish Status: Active
• Publish Country: US
• Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
• Imprint: Anchor
• Format: Paperback (US Trade)
• Pages: 368
• Language: English
• URL: https://penguinrandomhouse.com/books/isbn/9780385720984

Reviews

[pamela]

I'm not entirely sure how to rate Kate Christensen's The Epicure's Lament. On the one hand, Christensen employs some of the most stunningly rendered prose it has ever been my privilege to read. She uses words to paint pictures and creates beautiful, relatable ideas in only a handful of sentences. But that beauty in writing was undone by a complete lack of plot and one of the most repellent protagonists ever put to paper.

Hugo is well-written, and a fascinatingly unreliable narrator. We only get his point of view, which is unashamedly biased, but because of that, we are also treated to self-involved monologuing, and page after page of grandiose boasting about his sexual exploits. There was a lot of repetition of ideas. Hugo spends the whole book cooking, fucking, and being generally dickish to everyone, which was fun and interesting for a while, but got a bit samey by the end.

Where the book really picked up was the 75% mark, and I found myself a little more invested in Hugo and his cast of characters. As the book culminates with a Christmas meal, in which all the characters gather, and Hugo gets to reflect on all the people who have forced themselves into his self-imposed exile, the book comes to a lovely, heartfelt, poignant, and thoroughly satisfying conclusion.

Then Christensen keeps writing.

I have no idea what the decision was behind Notebook 4, but it was utterly redundant and undid all of the excellent work and perfect prose that had come before.

For future readers of The Epicure's Lament, as soon as you see the words Notebook 4, stop reading. The additional text adds nothing to the narrative, and you'll feel a lot more satisfied with this book if you pretend it ends earlier.