Bainbridge Island

My husband and I took our little kids to Bainbridge Island, Washington, over Easter this year. We took a ferry from Seattle and ended up in a nice condo in the town of Winslow, right near the ferry landing. We walked along the boat dock and went to a children's museum for an egg hunt and had a low-key time. Our excitement was when our younger son (he's 20 months old) locked himself in a bedroom. This, of course, happened FIVE MINUTES before my husband was heading out to participate in a video conference with his student's committee to facilitate the student's Ph.D. defense!! Such drama. In the end, all turned out well, and the reassembled door knob even appears unmolested.

I had just a little time to myself while we were there. When running errands I noticed the Eagle Harbor Book Company and popped in, of course. What a lovely cookbook selection they have! I picked up Flavors of Bainbridge, a community cookbook whose sales benefit the local Humane Society, Pike Place Market Cookbook, Party Bites by Lydia France and Julian Barnes's The Pedant in the Kitchen.

The condo was advertised as having Internet access, but it did not. The TV also barely worked. Ok, then, time to read. I forgot my John and Matt Thorne book, so I started Pedant in the Kitchen. I had not read anything by Julian Barnes, though I had heard of him. I was struck immediately by how distinct and lovely his writing is, and by how personable he is. He describes how pedantry in the kitchen--such as slavishly following recipes--can, over time, lead to an approximation of perfection in one's cooking. I'm no perfectionist, but I can relate to that. While I do not often strive for perfection myself, I sure appreciate when others are that way. Such beautiful things come of it. People complain about Martha Stewart for her apparent perfectionist tendencies, and I just love her for that. Hey, show me something beautiful. Why not?

The book was published in 2003, and throughout the book, Barnes refers to "She for Whom the Pedant Cooks." When an author writes about his or her partner in a cookbook, I become interested in who the partner is just as much as I wonder about the author. Maybe even moreso sometimes. In this case, I wondered especially, because he is clearly accomplished, and whoever he is with must be quite interesting and at least as accomplished as he.

I enjoyed the book so much, and when I got home, I looked up Julian Barnes and was able to find out quickly that his wife was Pat Kavanagh, a highly-respected and often beloved literary agent. Then I read that she died just weeks ago; much too young, of a fast-killing brain tumor. Irrationally, I admit, I was tremendously upset by this. I wanted Julian and She for Whom to be merrily hosting parties and having well-prepared dinners in their home, just like Barnes described in his book. This is the perilous part of non-fiction. Barnes and Kavanagh were not just characters in a book. They are real, and my deep condolences go out to Barnes and his family. I feel honored to have been introduced to them via his book, and will have fond memories of reading about them on my trip to Bainbridge Island.