Really enjoyed this. Would love to read more writing related to food and culture. Accessible and supported by a wide range of references. Definitely will be recommending!

Engaging and immersive. A recommended purchase for collections where memoirs and food writing are popular.

A fascinating read about cooking and body and philosophy. Part memoir, part essay quoting great philosophers, cooks and literature, we take a journey with the author as she unpacks the feeling of what it means to cook beyond following a recipe. It is the embodiment of what it means to cook in a way. This book is kind of hard to describe - it is philosophical and meditative and and interesting read.

Thank you to Netgalley and Pushkin Press for an ARC and I left this review voluntarily.

Small Fires is a lot about the feelings and emotions that cooking engenders, treating cooking as a serious academic enquiry into feminism and splattering of hot red sauce everywhere.

I could only read this when I was in the mood for it as I often found the self-consciously intellectual tone a little too much for me. But when I could devote time and attention to reading the book I found much to interest and challenge me.

One for the deep thinkers, not for the casual cook.

This was not for me. Too scattered. I was hoping for more a narrative or thread to follow but this wasn't it. I loved the theme and idea but this just isn't my style.

I picked this up a couple of weeks ago and put it down again. On my second attempt, I devoured (!) it in one sitting. A clever, engaging, thought provoking, warm, witty and wonderful read. The power of the every day acts. An empowering lovely read. Recommend.

This was a quick and easy read for me as I love a good book that has a food theme. It is a memoir yet it is so much more.

This is a book that will make you think and reflect, it tells stories, shares life experiences and even has recipes. Yippee! I love a good recipe. It is interesting, entertaining, is quick and easy to read and it is a book I would happily share with friends and family.

Thank you NetGalley and Pushkin Press for giving me the opportunity to read and review this book.

A difficult book to get into, but at times it is a lovely and thought-provoking exploration of cooking and the performance of cooking as an intellectual pursuit.

Thank you very much to Pushkin Press and NetGalley for the opportunity to read an advance copy.

In Small Fires, Rebecca May Johnson turns her academic lens inward, philosophizing on the creation and development of self through the food we choose to prepare for others. Building on the years of cooking documented in her Dinner Document blog (now archived), the author examines her own motivations for cooking for the people in her life. She explains how she selects a dish and the ingredients for it, and goes through the process of making, re-making and often re-inventing those dishes. First using a simple recipe for tomato sauce and later a recipe for rice pudding, Johnson convincingly demonstrates the autonomy and power home cooks can have, fiercely rebutting those who reject recipes as stifling.

With its references to Greek classics and obscure, out of print cookbooks and essays on food, the writing can be a bit heavy which is the reason for my rating. However, Johnson's passion for the kitchen and all those who choose to harness their creative power within it is evident in every page.

Part poetry and part manifesto, Small Fires will ignite a creative spark in your kitchen, whether you usually cook only for you or for the "You" Johnson alludes to in her book.

Note: This book was previously published in the U.K. in 2022. I gratefully received a review copy from the publisher on the occasion of the 2023 North American release.

SMALL FIRES was a revelation for this non-cook, through its insights and poetic prose about the culinary life and how cooking has often been viewed as "women's work done out of love," rather than a means to personal growth and insight. The recipes are delicious, the storytelling captivating, the memoir a must-read for anyone who loves cooking, eating, and reflecting. Recommended!

I was not expecting this to be filled with as many interesting observations as it was. The author's words read like pure poetry while simultaneously digging into nuance of women in the kitchen. The formatting reads poetically with a stream of consciousness tone that made the whole book more approachable. I can't say I was expecting the tone of witty observation and critique, but I very much enjoyed it.

I've been thinking about this ever since I finished it a couple of days ago. I've talked about it with a few people too, so it's certainly been successful in worming its way into my thoughts. This is an exploration of cookery and its place in our lives, specifically in the case of the author and generally in the case of everyone else. The writer talks about the diminishment of women's jobs and the dismissal of cookery as a creative, philosophical and rewarding practice. She weaves into this her thoughts on translation, on psychology and philosophy, on gender and somehow ties it all into thinking about sausages. This is amazing.

This book is incredible and thought-provoking and I loved it enormously.

I sort of want to say this is a book that is "ostensibly" about cooking... except that it IS about cooking, there's nothing ostensible about it. But it also uses cooking as a metaphor for many things, and looks at recipes and in-kitchen behaviour both for themselves and as metaphors, and reflects on the author's life in general as well as her relationship with food and the preparation thereof.

I love reading about food and cooking and, although I feel a little guilty about it, I also love reading about how people feel about food. (The guilt comes because I feel like a voyeur.) This book does that for me, as well as touching on other things I hadn't realised I would love in connection with a discussion of cooking. Such as...

Johnson has a PhD looking at a German translation of The Odyssey, and I had never before considered how you could make connections between that text and the myriad ways that cooking and food (not to mention gender - although I had thought about that a bit) are used in western society. The way that how we talk/feel about translation can also connect to the way we talk/feel about cooking was absorbing. And then there's all the other theoretical stuff, like the psychoanalyst who thinks that cooking from a recipe is a sign that the cook lacks creativity... which made me, and Johnson, rage.

This book is at times prickly, at times confronting; Johnson reflects on large chunks of her life so sometimes she is bewildered and struggling while other times doing quite well. There were a LOT of times I responded on a very emotional level with what Johnson was saying: I cook for those I love; I struggle to think about making food for just myself; I have struggled with what my love of cooking says about me in terms of feminism (thank you, third wave feminism, for teaching me about the issues of second-wave feminism).

This is a powerful book. About cooking, yes, and the place of the recipe - and my goodness, Johnson's exploration of what a single recipe can be, what it does, what it means: all of these things are glorious. It's also an exploration of life, although I hesitate to call it a memoir and it's certainly not autobiography. Many people come into Johnson's life through the book, as she cooks for them and reflects on their relationships, but there's not a lot of names - there's a sustained reflection on the idea of 'YOU' as the one cooked for, and what body YOU represents changes over time, and exactly who they are and their relationship to Johnson is irrelevant for the purpose of the book. I liked this, too, even though the biography-reader in me kept expecting to understand the various relationships. But it's not necessary for the book.

This is a book that I may need to own, in paper.

I requested “Small Fires” from NetGalley because of the description of this shorter novel, and so I express my deep gratitude to whomever wrote the blurb as it is in no way misleading or misfocused.

This work by Rebecca May Johnson is not only and introspective look at her life but also at how a humble sauce recipe has developed through the different stages of her life. At times this feels like a recitation. But it’s so much more than that. “Small Fires” is part memoir, part critical (academic) essay, part love story, part feminist lit, part bildungsroman, part classical text, and part ode, and that’s what I loved most: Johnson’s homage to the sauce recipe central to her work of nonfiction.

The narrative thread follows a logical trajectory, and readers are given glimpses of Johnson’s life and backstory but not too much insight…Just enough to keep you coming back for more, like a delicious meal you can’t get enough of!

There is a lot to unpack in such a short piece, but I think that Johnson’s execution is pretty appetizing—and I’m not even a fan of personal nonfiction narratives (personal essays, memoirs, autobiographies, etc…)! So imagine my surprise when I finished this, thought back on the work and my enjoyment level while reading it and realized that I was quite impressed with it! I’ve read Nina Mingya Powles short work, “Tiny Moons: A Year of Eating in Shanghai” (2020) and didn’t enjoy it, but did enjoy Nigella Lawson’s even shorter work, “Eating: Vintage Minis” (2017). So I admit that I did feel some trepidation when I requested “Small Fires”, but am I ever glad that I did.

If you’re a fan of memoirs, academic infused nonfiction, coming-of-age stories, and writing about food and/or cooking, then this could be for you!

Now, my mission is to find Marcella Hazan's sugo fresco al pomodoro recipe! Wish me luck!!

Many thanks to NetGalley and Pushkin Press for allowing me to read an ARC of Rebecca May Johnson’s newest title: “Small Fires”.

I feel like I’m maybe not the target audience for this but other than a few thought provoking bits, I didn’t find this interesting. I found myself wondering when we’d get to the point and then we’d end up vaguely referring to a recipe.

I’m a get to the point kind of reader and this is not a get to the point kind of book. If you prefer books like this then I’d absolutely recommend it to you, but for me it was a miss.

DNF this one. I wanted to like it, but I could not get beyond the first chapter or so. The writing style was confusing and not as conversational as I would have liked it to be.

"Small Fires in the Kitchen" by Rebecca May Johnson is a thought-provoking and deliciously immersive memoir that takes readers on a captivating culinary journey. With its evocative storytelling, heartfelt reflections, and mouthwatering recipes, this book offers a unique blend of food, culture, and personal growth that will resonate with readers who are passionate about both cooking and self-discovery.

In this memoir, Johnson invites readers into her world as she navigates her way through the complexities of life, love, and her deep connection to food. Each chapter is a window into her experiences, combining vivid descriptions of her culinary experiments with introspective musings on identity, family, and the power of food to evoke emotions and forge connections.

Small fires they are, these essay collections which are truly thoughts on cooking-as an art, a way of life, an expression of emotions and all that, and the preparation that goes into serving a meal, a memory-this book surprised me, in a nice way.
It's also got me feeling all kinds of feelings regarding cooking shows-and confirming why I never loved them as much, because of the pressure and the yelling and just that it took the joy out of cooking and all for entertainment.
Thanks Netgalley for the eARC.

*This book was received as an Advanced Reader's Copy from NetGalley.

I went from not being able to sink into this book, to largely enjoying it by the end. When it's tagged as 'an epic in the kitchen' I didn't realize just how literal that would be. But it's not just the food that makes this a standout book, but rather the way the author weaves philosophy, feminism, and sociology, although with a dash of classics into the mix.

While the book largely focuses on one dish (a seemingly simple tomato sauce), it tells of the variations and how a recipe is not really a one-time use or rendition of something. It has history and changes based on the smallest of things. The telling of the making of this dish is interspersed with the author's thoughts on cooking and the act of creating a meal, as well as the different works she has read and analyzed.

Where I had trouble with the book is the philosophy/poetry. Those two subjects have never been my favored reading; too flowery and roundabout for my taste. It's not to say it's not well written; it is, I just have a harder time immersing myself in. However, it did lend itself to describing the food well, and I can appreciate how those that do like the genre would be completely happy with it. I'll also not describe the act of the author writing the food as 'lovely' (not that I would anyway, maybe it's a regional/cultural thing, but that's not a word that comes to mind when I think of food writing). I will describe it as engaging, descriptive, and balanced. I liked that the author spoke to various themes that underly cooking and how for granted we take recipes and the act of cooking.

If you like highly descriptive books and food, with those that combine serious thought, this is one to check out.

Review by M. Reynard 2023

Many thanks to the author publisher and Netgalley for a free ARC of this ebook.
This is a beautifully written not-a-cookbook. It's about deep relationships with food. Sometimes the protagonist is horribly annoying, but mostly it's an homage to eating good food. I can't say I loved it all, I didn't, but I do appreciate the care that's been taken writing it.
3.5 stars.