by Gertrude Stein
Sadder than salad.
From apples to artichokes, these glittering, fragmented, painterly portraits of food by the avant-garde pioneer Gertrude Stein are redolent of sex, laughter and the joy of everyday life.
It’s been a while, but I’m back with another read from the Penguin Modern Series, number 8, “Food” written by Gertrude Stein back in 1914.
I have to be completely honest here and say that I have absolutely no idea what I have just read and I really didn’t like it. This book is the strangest I’ve ever read, by a long shot!
Here’s an example:
Why is a feel oyster an egg stir. Why is it orange centre.
A show at tick and loosen it so to speak sat.
It was an extra leaker with a see spoon, it was an extra licker with a see spoon.”
Is this another language?! This appears to have been an extremely experimental piece of writing and I’m impressed that it was actually published back in 1914 – it’s bonkers! The only thing I can compare it to is drunken texts that make absolutely no sense and I’m afraid I didn’t get any enjoyment out of reading it.
I think it was poetry and I think that it must have just gone completely over my head but in all honesty, I’m not upset about that at all…