If you’ve already read Feast of Sorrow: A Novel of Ancient Rome and enjoyed it, you should probably stop reading this review. I did not enjoy this book, and I am not going to be kind to it.
Before I begin, my apologies to my friend Heather, who picked out this book for both of us to read, and who I am led to believe enjoyed it. In no way do I intend for this to be a complaint against her choice, as I highly trust Heather’s judgement (even still). It should also be noted that this novel has received very high praise almost everywhere I look, so I am aware that my opinion is very much at odds with the general population. However, after attempting to devour the contents of this offering, I cannot help but feel that I have been served cardboard while others insist that it’s a delicacy.
Feast of Sorrow is about some rich dude, who I am going to call Apple-cuss because I can’t remember his actual name, that buys a slave that is a superstar cook, who I will call Thrasher. Apple-cuss and Thrasher plot to take over the world together. Actually, that story might have been better. The real story is about the rich guy trying to become Caesar’s culinary advisor, and the various misadventures that result, which also sounds like an awesome story. Emphasis on sounds like. There are some other characters, but they were so entirely dimensionless that I don’t even remember their names. One of them was a redhead.
Other than Apple-cuss, the third commandment is almost entirely ignored throughout the story. What does Thrasher want? To not be a slave? I’m gonna need a little more than that. Oh, he has a girl that he likes? Cool. Oh, he has already won her over. How? By not raping her, or in other words, possessing the baseline quality necessary to not be a piece of shit. That’s cool, though, I’m pretty sure this girl that is beautiful and yet entirely devoid of personality is actually in the story just to get screwed over to motivate Thrasher.
The progression of the plot is fairly straightforward. Apple-cuss wants to sit at Caesar’s table and hold his ear, so he makes various (sometimes misguided) attempts to achieve that, and he needs Thrasher to help him do it. These situations are often presented as frivolous or wasteful, portraying Apple-cuss as a man of infinite wealth that he spends wildly. However, since it is never explained how Apple-cuss earns his income, or what the limit of his means actually is, who gives a damn? Spend all you want Apple-cuss! It’s your money! Moreover to this, several years pass between each major gambit. That’s not wasteful. That’s calculated risk.
Throughout the story, Latin words are reliably used in place of English words. For example, a triclinium is some variety of lounge or sitting area. Despite the persistent (and highly irritating usage) of this word, I still don’t know what one looks like. It’s all well and good to introduce a new word to me, but that word is meaningless if you don’t adequately define it. In that regard, calling the main character a coquus is ridiculous. No, he’s not a coquus, he’s a cook. Literally, the word cook is derived from the word coquus! I have no problem with using Latin words to describe things for which there is no English equivalent, but I’m not reading a book in Latin. I’m reading a book in English, and insisting on using archaic Latin words is pretentious.
In contrast to this, the author employs modern colloquialisms that have no place in the setting, a choice that actively ruined my immersion.
As a book, Feast of Sorrow reads like something I would expect from a first year creative writing student. Or Michael Bay. That’s not fair to Michael. At least I would have had more explosions to enjoy.
To demonstrate my point, there is a prophecy in the first chapter, which is so fundamentally basic as a literary tool that it’s like using time travel to save a character, or using random teleports to transport them when you can’t find a motivation that makes sense. Seriously, if your story has a prophecy in the first chapter, it had better be either wrong or awfully god damn clever.
Oh, but there is more. The bad guy is an implied child rapist, because making him a bad guy through treachery and deceit wasn’t enough, we have to go for the most blatantly obvious low-hanging fruit imaginable. In his opening scene. I literally groaned out load, lamenting ‘oh, come on,’ as I read that chapter. He even does the whole shtick where he reveals himself as someone important to the plot, but doesn’t say exactly who. “Oh ho ho, you’ll find out!” It’s baby’s first bad guy. All he needed was a scar over his eye and a penchant for eating food that belongs to other people. While monologuing.
Despite a clear and obvious goal for Apple-cuss, the story still felt directionless and empty. A small tweak easily could have fixed this. Instead of just picking erratic goals in his search for glory, why not have Apple-cuss search the world for an exotic ingredient that would grab Caesar’s attention? Or what about a rare and unknown recipe? Or hell, even just training someone to be the best cook, instead of having one fall into his lap, would have been good.
In multiple reviews for this book, I encountered this statement: “readers are left hungry for more.”
You’re damn right I was left hungry for more. Hungry for character development. Hungry for direction and substance in the plot. Hungry for anything other than “fuck it I’ve come this far” to propel me to the next page.
Feast of Sorrow is a novel for foodies and people that want to feel clever, and is loosely based on a real person. I’m pretty sure the real namesake is more interesting than the imaginary version of himself. Considering that one version is fictional, that’s pretty depressing.
In fact, I am comfortable declaring only a single commandment as unbroken. Number seven, which is literally unbreakable, unless the author actively hates their own work.
