Why should I write a review of a book I have read? Is it for the sake of all those who follow my blog, or is it for my own personal satisfaction? I think the answer is both. Every book creates an emotional bond with the reader because we spend quality time immersed in its pages. Taiwan Travelogue by Yang Shuang-Zi was with me for two months. I ‘read’ its 293 pages in multiple formats: as an audiobook, in print, and as an e-book on iBooks. I am writing this blog 20 minutes after finishing the book, for which I gave five stars on Goodreads.
Of course, I particularly enjoyed the last few chapters of the book. The audiobook version was simply marvelous. The narrator, Sarah Skaer, does a great job of transporting me to the world of Hakka cuisine, mochi soup, shrimp tempura, soba noodles and much more. Since the book contains so many references to Taiwanese culinary traditions and food items, it was wonderful to hear their original pronunciations. But the novel is not merely about the food of the island; it is also about the personalities of its two main characters. Sarah Skaer’s voice is still lingering in my mind. The subdued and submissive personality of Chi-chan contrasts sharply with the dominant and inquisitive personality of Aoyama-san, and Skaer brings both characters vividly to life through her narration. Apart from these two female characters, there is also a male character, Mashima-san, whose voice is handled with equal ease by the narrator.
As the two characters eat their way through Taiwan, the reader is presented with a culinary feast. Through Chi-chan and Aoyama-san, the novel brings to the forefront the differences between Mainlanders and Islanders. Aoyama-san’s realization that she had been maintaining a condescending attitude towards Chi-chan throughout the journey elucidates how power dynamics are very much a part of even the most intimate relationships.
The novel is also an ode to the great art of translation. Lin King provides a brief account of how the book was translated, offering insights into the journey of the text across languages and cultures.
I wonder why more Indian writers have not attempted to write novels about the wonderful culinary histories of the different states of India. I am sure there will be someone who will be inspired by this novel and attempt something similar soon. Abraham Verghese’s The Covenant of Water, for instance, celebrates the Syrian Christian culinary tradition, and some of the recipes mentioned in the book have even featured in vlogs and newspaper reports.
The ending of the novel, where the two characters sit in an old Taiwanese shop eating dried sunflower seeds, is beautifully written. Aoyama-san’s realization that her love of reading and writing had been with her since her school days—reading what she wanted to read and writing what she wanted to write—is particularly inspiring.

















