Her mother moved the family to Arizona, where she scrimped her way through grad school and served up “blue plate specials”-cheap, hearty meatloaf or frozen fish fillets-to her three growing daughters. The oldest daughter of a cello-playing Swiss-German refugee mother and a Marxist lawyer father, she spent her early childhood in the granola-laced Berkeley counterculture, until her father’s bouts of wife beating precipitated a divorce. “Eating a good meal, like reading a satisfying novel, has returned me to myself during times when this disconnect was a profound internal chasm.”Īnd so she hangs this account of her life on a generous framework of food. “The company of other people, the vicissitudes of romantic relationships, or just being out in the world, have often made me feel anxious, uncomfortable, judged, shy, or misunderstood, and fundamentally unconnected to myself, the truest cause of loneliness,” writes novelist Kate Christensen in her new memoir. Photo by Michael Sharkey Kate Christensen ’86 By Angie Jabine ’79
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