The Stolen Child

 

The Stolen Child by Ann Hood

Fiction

2024

Finished on February 10, 2025

Rating: 3/5 (Good)

Publisher's Blurb:

For decades, Nick Burns has been haunted by a decision he made as a young soldier in World War I, when a French artist he’d befriended thrust both her paintings and her baby into his hands—and disappeared. In 1974, with only months left to live, Nick enlists Jenny, a college dropout desperate for adventure, to help him unravel the mystery. The journey leads them from Paris galleries and provincial towns to a surprising place: the Museum of Tears, the life’s work of a lonely Italian craftsman. Determined to find the baby and the artist, hopeless romantic Jenny and curmudgeonly Nick must reckon with regret, betrayal, and the lives they’ve left behind.

With characteristic warmth and verve, Ann Hood captures a world of possibility and romance through the eyes of a young woman learning to claim her place in it. The Stolen Child is an engaging, timeless novel of secrets, love lost and found, and the nature of forgiveness.

Having read several books (both fiction and nonfiction) by Ann Hood, I was happy to see a copy of her most recent publication on the new release shelf at my public library. The cover art is lovely, the historical references to World War I intriguing, and the setting (both in France and Italy) enticing, so I didn't hesitate to bring it home with me. I wish I could say that this is a great novel, but it lacked the depth and literary quality that I was hoping for. I struggled with the three nonlinear timelines (which at times were abrupt, pulling me out of the story), and grew impatient with the drawn-out search by Jenny and Nick. The rich details of both France and Italy kept me from giving up on the novel, but I'm guilty of looking ahead to see how many pages remained before I could start something new. 

I loved Hood's Morningstar: Growing Up with Books (memoir), as well as Kitchen Yarns: Notes on Life, Love, and Food (another memoir). The Book That Matters Most and The Knitting Circle are two of her novels that I also enjoyed a lot. The Stolen Child isn't one I need to own or will read again, but for those who are looking for a lighter read during these stressful times, this book may be just the ticket.

Kitchen Yarns: Notes on Life, Love, and Food

Kitchen Yarns: Notes on Life, Love, and Food by Ann Hood
Nonfiction - Memoir
2019 W.W. Norton & Company
Finished on March 17, 2019
Rating: 4.5/5 (Very Good)

Publisher's Blurb:

From her Italian American childhood through singlehood, raising and feeding a growing family, divorce, and a new marriage to food writer Michael Ruhlman, Ann Hood has long appreciated the power of a good meal. Growing up, she tasted love in her grandmother’s tomato sauce and dreamed of her mother’s special-occasion Fancy Lady Sandwiches. Later, the kitchen became the heart of Hood’s own home. She cooked pork roast to warm her first apartment, used two cups of dried basil for her first attempt at making pesto, taught her children how to make their favorite potatoes, found hope in her daughter’s omelet after a divorce, and fell in love again—with both her husband and his foolproof chicken stock.

Hood tracks her lifelong journey in the kitchen with twenty-seven heartfelt essays, each accompanied by a recipe (or a few). In “Carbonara Quest,” searching for the perfect spaghetti helped her cope with lonely nights as a flight attendant. In the award-winning essay The Golden Silver Palate, she recounts the history of her fail-safe dinner party recipe for Chicken Marbella—and how it did fail her when she was falling in love. Hood’s simple, comforting recipes also include her mother’s famous meatballs, hearty Italian Beef Stew, classic Indiana Fried Chicken, the perfect grilled cheese, and a deliciously summery peach pie.

With Hood’s signature humor and tenderness, Kitchen Yarns spills tales of loss and starting from scratch, family love and feasts with friends, and how the perfect meal is one that tastes like home.

I loved everything about this highly readable collection of culinary essays by Ann Hood! I have so many Post-It flags marking recipes that I'd like to try that I've decided I need to own a copy of this book. Here's a sample of some of the recipes that have piqued my interested:

• Indiana Fried Chicken
• Glamourous Curried Chicken Salad
• Chicken Salad Veronique
• Jordan Marsh Blueberry Muffins
• My Perfect Spaghetti Carbonara
• Michael's Whiskey Sours
• French Scrambled Eggs
• Never-Fail Souffle (really more of a strata)
• Sam's Potatoes
• Mary's Peach Pie
• Jill's Tenderloin and Roasted Tomatoes
• Gogo's Swedish Meatballs with Ikea Gravy
• My Roast Chicken
• Michael's Overnight Chicken Stock
• Tortellini en Brodo
• Perfect Grilled Cheese
• Laurie Colwin's Tomato Pie

This list is mainly for my future reference, but it gives you an idea of the broad variety of recipes Hood includes in her memoir. Granted, most of the recipes are not exactly on a clean-eating menu, but we're all allowed to indulge once in awhile, right? Moderation in all things! 

A friend had given me Betty Crocker's Cookbook for my college graduation the year before, and I methodically worked my way through those recipes, ruining more dinners than I can count. Soon I was clipping recipes from the newspaper and buying other cookbooks--Moosewood, Laurel's Kitchen, The New York Times 60-Minute Gourmet. Over the next few years, I taught myself to cook. Sometimes I reached too far--stuffed pork chops with apple compote, whole wheat pizza that I could have used for a doorstop. But slowly I learned how to make an omelet and scramble eggs, use leftover chicken for curried chicken salad, make stock from the chicken bones.

I remember doing the same with my first cookbook, Sunset: Easy Basics for Good Cooking, which I wrote about here.

A few favorite passages:

I realized as, over the years, I wrote essays about food--Laurie Colwin's Tomato Pie, my father's mac and cheese--that as M.F.K. Fisher said, writing about food is really writing about love. When I write an essay about food, I am really uncovering something deeper in my life--loss, family, confusion, growing up, growing away from what I knew, returning, grief, joy, and, yes, love.

and

I have read that Virginia Woolf's earliest memory is of a close-up view of the pattern of flowers on her mother's dress on a train trip to St. Ives. The Scottish poet Edwin Muir's first memory was of his gold-and-scarlet baptism suit. American historian Henry Adams remembered the yellow of a kitchen bathed in sunlight. Tolstoy's first memory is of being swaddled and crying out for freedom. Me, I remember fried chicken.

I love Hood's writing and conversational tone, which brought a tear to my eye as often as it made me laugh out loud. Her final essay about Laurie Colwin's Tomato Pie had my eyes brimming with tears and I hugged the book to my chest as I read the final page. Kitchen Yarns is as delightful as Laurie Colwin's culinary memoir, Home Cooking, which I wrote about here and they both belong on my keeper shelf for future readings.

Ruby

Ruby by Ann Hood
Fiction
1998 Picador
Finished on January 22, 2019
Rating: 2/5 (Fair)

Publisher's Blurb:

After the tragic death of her husband of barely one year, Olivia, a milliner from New York City, must begin rebuilding her life. Ordinarily a vivacious and strong woman, she finds herself unable to surmount her grief...until she meets Ruby.

Young, pregnant and delinquent, Ruby trespasses and enters the seemingly uninhabited Rhode Island beach house in which Olivia and her late husband had planned to build their life together. Abandoned by her family, Ruby has no home and seems far too immature to care for the baby Olivia so strongly desires. With her eye on the adoption of the newborn, Olivia offers the rebellious teen a place to stay.

An unlikely friendship is forged as Olivia nurtures Ruby and her unborn child and experiences the daily challenges presented by a wayward teen, who may or may not teach Olivia how to live again.

It's quite apparent that Ruby is one of Ann Hood's earliest novels and not nearly as polished as her more current books, several of which I've recently read. (Her website doesn't even have Ruby listed in her collection of published books, which is interesting.) I stumbled upon the book while perusing the shelves at my library and decided to give it a try, since I really enjoyed The Book That Matters Most, The Knitting Circle and her nonfiction gem, Morningstar: Growing Up With Books (click on the titles for my full reviews). Unfortunately, Ruby is trite, lacking tension and fully realized characters, and is far too predictable. I didn't sympathize with either of the main characters and grew weary of the far-fetched plot, which became a slog by the halfway mark. I continued reading only because it's a short book and I was curious about the ending. I'm glad this wasn't the first book I read of Hood's or I may not have gone on to try anything else by her.

The Knitting Circle

The Knitting Circle by Ann Hood
Fiction
2007 W.W. Norton & Company
Finished on June 21, 2018
Rating: 4/5 (Very Good)

Publisher's Blurb:

After the loss of her only child, Mary Baxter finds herself unable to read or write, the activities that used to be her primary source of comfort. She reluctantly joins a knitting circle as a way to fill her lonely days--not knowing it will change her life. As they teach Mary new knitting techniques, the women in the circle also reveal their own secrets of loss, love, and hope. With time, Mary is finally able to tell her own story of grief, and in so doing finds the spark of life again.

Last year I read The Book That Matters Most, (Ann Hood's latest novel centered around a book club and the power of the written word) and immediately wanted to read more of her books. The Knitting Circle has been on my radar for many years, so I decided it was high time to pull it off the shelf and give it a read. Over the years, I've been drawn to books about grief and Hood's novel, which is drawn on her own raw experience of losing a child, is powerful and poignant without feeling too saccharine or overly sentimental. As with The Book That Matters Most, I was quickly drawn into the story and didn't have any trouble keeping track of all the characters and their own burdens, which tends to be a problem with some of the "friendship" novels I've read in the past. I'm not a knitter, but I enjoyed reading the details about learning how to knit and all the various stitches and patterns involved in the craft. 

I also enjoyed reading Hood's nonfiction book, Morningstar: Growing Up With Books (reviewed here) and am eager to read more of her books. The Obituary Writer and The Italian Wife are appealing, as is The Red Thread. I love discovering an author with a decent backlist on which to catch up. Ann Hood is quickly becoming one of my favorite authors!

Is there anyone who can write about the connections of ordinary people better than Ann Hood? ~Jodi Picoult

Morningstar: Growing Up with Books

Morningstar: Growing Up with Books by Ann Hood
Nonfiction - Memoir
2017 W. W. Norton & Company
Finished on January 5, 2018
Rating: 4/5 (Very Good)

Publisher's Blurb:

In her admired works of fiction, including most recently The Book That Matters Most, Ann Hood explores the transformative power of literature. Now, with warmth and honesty, Hood reveals the personal story behind these beloved novels.

Growing up in a mill town in Rhode Island, in a household that didn't foster a love of literature, Ann Hood discovered nonetheless the companionship of books. She learned to channel her imagination, ambitions, and curiosity by devouring ever-growing stacks. In Morningstar, Hood recollects how The Bell Jar, Marjorie Morningstar, The Harrad Experiment, and The Outsiders influenced her teen psyche and introduced her to topics that could not be discussed at home: desire, fear, sexuality, and madness. Later Johnny Got His Gun and The Grapes of Wrath dramatically influenced her political thinking while the Vietnam War and the Kent State shootings became headline news, and classics such as Dr. Zhivago and Les Miserables stoked her ambitions to travel the world. With characteristic insight and charm, Hood showcases the ways in which books gave her life and can transform--even save--our own lives.

I am so glad I trusted my instincts and bought a hardcover copy of this little gem-of-a-book before the holidays. I read Hood's previous book (The Book That Matters Most) last year and enjoyed her writing style so well that I added her entire backlist to my TBR list on Goodreads. Not only was I eager to read more by her, but a book about books is an immediate purchase for me. This one did not disappoint. I only have a few pages marked, but as I read them a second time, I know that I will  return to this book in the coming year, making notes of more books to read and recommend to my book club.

My only quibbles about Morningstar is that Hood has a tendency to repeat herself  and there are a few times in which she states the obvious (for example, she mentions well-known facts and details about World War II and Vietnam with which most adults are familiar), but her general love of books and her reactions and feelings about specific books (The Grapes of Wrath and The Bell Jar, to name just a couple) are spot-on. In addition to inspiring me to reread The Grapes of Wrath, she has also given me reason to add Majorie Morningstar and Rabbit, Run to my future reading list.

Favorite Passages:

Before Skip gave me that boxed set of Steinbeck, no one had ever given me a book as a gift. But the gift was even bigger than he'd imagined. When I read the first line of The Grapes of Wrath--"To the red country and part of the gray of Oklahoma, the last rains came gently, and they did not cut the scarred earth"--some writerly thing broke loose in me. "Spread a page with shining," Steinbeck once advised writers, and I could see that shine as I read. I understood it. I had read big, fat novels before, losing myself in Victor Hugo's Les Miserables and Boris Pasternak's Doctor Zhivago. Those sweeping stories, tragedies and triumphs spanning years and years, had captivated me for their otherness. But The Grapes of Wrath was so American, and the Joads so familiar somehow, and the language so lyrical, and the setting so real, that by reading it I saw what writers could do. And it dazzled me.

and 

It did not occur to me that somewhere in the library sat volumes of poetry. It seemed to me a precious thing, a poem, and I could not begin to imagine where poems resided. But one night as I played my favorite album, Simon and Garfunkel's Sound of Silence, it struck me that its eponymous song was actually a poem. Wasn't darkness, my old friend personification? And words like silent raindrops fell a simile? The neon God a metaphor? I played the song over and over, a notebook in hand, teasing out its meaning. Then I turned my attention to I am a rock--metaphor! I am an island! When we had to write a paper on our favorite poet, my classmate Nancy wrote hers on Robert Frost and Steven wrote his on Edgar Allan Poe. But me, I wrote mine on Paul Simon.

and

Isn't this the magic of books? That a fourteen-year-old girl can exactly identify with the fictional character of a twenty-six-year-old, married, former basketball star from Pennsylvania just as readily as that same girl--Italian American, blue-collar, Catholic in a small town--exactly identifies with Majorie Morningstar, an upper-middle-class Jewish girl in New York City? When I read Rabbit, Run, I understood that Rabbit, and John Updike, knew me. The me I didn't think anyone else saw.

and

This is why we all read, isn't it? To know the world and ourselves better. To find our place in that world. Even if you did have access to readers and guidance on what to read, even if you grew up in a family that loved to read and owned shelves of books, still, still, one day a book falls into your hands--perhaps it's Beloved or A Wrinkle in Time or A Tree Grows in Brooklyn; perhaps it's Great Expectations or Pride and Prejudice--whatever book it is, it falls into your hands at just the right moment when you need to read it. It transforms you. Perhaps it lifts you up when you are at your lowest; perhaps it shows you what love is, or what it feels like to lose love; perhaps it brings you places far away or shows you how to stay put when you need to.

There are so many books about books and books about readers, many of which I've read and are sitting on my "keeper shelf" for future readings. Ann Hood has written a gem, which is short enough to read annually, but not long enough to satisfy my curiosity about any other books she has loved and can recommend. Morningstar is a perfect gift for any book lover and I'm so happy I gifted it to myself this past Christmas.

The Book That Matters Most

The Book That Matters Most by Ann Hood
Fiction
20106 W.W. Norton
Finished on February 22, 2017
Rating: 4.5/5 (Very Good)

Publisher's Blurb:

An enthralling novel about love, loss, secrets, friendship, and the healing power of literature, by the bestselling author of The Knitting Circle.

Ava’s twenty-five-year marriage has fallen apart, and her two grown children are pursuing their own lives outside of the country. Ava joins a book group, not only for her love of reading but also out of sheer desperation for companionship. The group’s goal throughout the year is for each member to present the book that matters most to them. Ava rediscovers a mysterious book from her childhood—one that helped her through the traumas of the untimely deaths of her sister and mother. Alternating with Ava’s story is that of her troubled daughter Maggie, who, living in Paris, descends into a destructive relationship with an older man. Ava’s mission to find that book and its enigmatic author takes her on a quest that unravels the secrets of her past and offers her and Maggie the chance to remake their lives.

I really enjoyed this book! I was quickly drawn into the story and was happy that the author had her characters actually discuss the books they chose for their book club rather than just use the meetings as a device to establish and develop their relationships. One of the character's unwise decisions made me feel frustrated and impatient with her immaturity, and the plot was somewhat predictable, but overall I savored the story, enjoying my time reading, drawing out the finale until I could no longer keep from finishing.

Ava glanced around the room, at John wearing his befuddled expression; and Monique nodding enthusiastically; and Ruth standing there gripping her index cards, flustered; and Honor lecturing them; and Diana with her dramatically made up eyes and dark red lips; and Kiki taking notes in her Moleskine; and Cate, such a good friend for letting her come here in the first place, sitting back and listening to their voices rise in their love of books. The sight of them all filled Ava with a warmth and comfort she had not felt in a long time.

What reader doesn't enjoy a book about bookstores or book groups? I am such a sucker for this sub-genre and have read quite a few entertaining novels and thought-provoking memoirs in this category, many of which that have expanded my TBR shelves with even more to read. The following are the books that Hood mentions in her story:

Pride and Prejudice
Like Water for Chocolate
The Great Gatsby
Anna Karenina
One Hundred Years of Solitude
To Kill A Mockingbird
The Lord of The Rings
The Golden Notebook
Dinner at The Homesick Restaurant
The Unbearable Lightness of Being
The Leopard
Dr. Zhivago
The House of Mirth
Slaughterhouse-Five
As You Like It

Ever since I finished reading The Book That Matters Most, I've been pondering the title, wondering what one book matters most to me. What an impossible question! It's like asking me what is my favorite book. Or who is my favorite author. It's futile to try to narrow it down to a single answer because so much depends on when I read the book and what was going on in my life. So many books have touched me in one way or another for a variety of reasons. And yet, if I had to give one answer I would pick Neil Peart's memoir, Ghost Rider: Travels on the Healing Road. (Yes, that Neil Peart, the drummer for Canadian rock band, Rush.) I read it shortly after we lost our daughter and it was the first book about grief that had me nodding my head in complete agreement. All my thoughts and feelings were echoed in Peart's own words. He had not only lost his daughter, but ten months later his wife died, as well. He knew grief. And he was able to convey to me, through his own stories, that I would not only survive this unbelievable pain and suffering, but ultimately come to enjoy life once more. He was right.

I have since read Ann Hood's latest book, Morningstar: Growing Up With Books and in the final pages she says,

This is why we all read, isn't it? To know the world and ourselves better. To find our place in that world. Even if you did have access to readers and guidance on what to read, even if you grew up in a family that loved to read and owned shelves of books, still, still, one day a book falls into your hands -- perhaps it's Beloved or A Wrinkle in Time or A Tree Grows in Brooklyn; perhaps it's Great Expectations or Pride and Prejudice -- whatever book it is, it falls into your hands at just the right moment when you need to read it. It transforms you. Perhaps it lifts you up when you are at your lowest; perhaps it shows you what love is, or what it feels like to lose love; perhaps it brings you places far away or shows you how to stay put when you need to.

Yes.