If “Food Person” were a menu item, it would be something like a BLT or mac and cheese: cozy, simple and fun.
Adam Roberts, who has a food blog called “The Amateur Gourmet” and a podcast called “Lunch Therapy,” makes his fiction debut with “Food Person,” which the marketers would probably love to see referred to as “The Devil Wears Prada but with Food.” And you know what? The book is a lot of fun, so let’s go with it. “Food Person” also has a kinship with the comic novels of Elinor Lipman, which are usually about a mildly screwed-up woman, probably Jewish and probably somewhere on the East Coast, who figures out her messy employment situation, makes things right with her meddling relatives and falls in love with Mr. Perfect.
Isabella Pasternak is a New York food writer who opens “Food Person” by becoming a fired New York food writer after a social media video goes south. Desperate for work, she agrees to ghostwrite a cookbook by a selfish actor/social media influencer who doesn’t actually cook. Or eat. Meanwhile, Isabella is being romanced by a hot chef and trying to figure out what’s wrong with her mother, who buys mass quantities of expired food and tries to pawn the goods off on unhoused New Yorkers in the name of charity.
His blog and podcast seem to have kept Roberts well connected to what’s going on in the worlds of food and pop culture. His “Food Person” is packed with knowing references to food gods such as writer Ruth Reichl and chef Edna Lewis, as well as skeptical observations, such as this one about the influencer’s makeup: “just enough to make her skin look healthy, like it had been slathered in umbilical-cord cream or whatever it was that influencers used to make their skin glow.”
“Food Person” has compelling behind-the-scenes deets about the worlds of both influencers and food writers, which have in common — along with virtually every other job on the planet these days — the need to be telegenic and to strategically share enough personal “content” to constitute a “brand.” Roberts has nearly 87,000 Instagram followers, so he knows what he’s talking about when describing gut-wrenching tragedies such as posting a meant-to-be-viral photo that goes nowhere.
It’s a fairly shallow pool, it must be noted. As glib and amusing as it is, “Food Person” doesn’t go especially deep on an emotional level, even in chapters about Isabella’s mother, which feel like they would resonate more if Roberts were more interested in where her particular brand of neurosis comes from.
But, just as Isabella begins to understand that people wouldn’t be able to shine in front of the camera without equally talented people who are content to stay behind it, there is a comforting sense that most readers already know the lessons Isabella learns in “Food Person.” And that this is deliberate. We’re not meant to be surprised by Roberts’ novel, which is as cozy and familiar as a grilled cheese sandwich.
Food Person
