Food is something that is constantly found in the novel, Crescent. Sirine is a chef who works in a restaurant in LA, where she met Han. With each interaction, Sirine and Han fall deeper in love with one another. Sirine has a knack of using food as a metaphor to describe situations. In a way, food became its own language, to describe love, pain, and so much more.
When she describes intimate moments with Han, she compares it to food. She compares it to the sweetness and the way certain food tastes. In moments where Sirine feels like she is on top of the world with Han, having him by her side, and laying in his arm, the food she describes is full of flavors. Sirine connects everything dear to her to food because it is where she finds comfort. During the most important time with Han, she brings up food, which allows readers to understand how valuable he is to her, and her love for him.
As the story progresses, we can see that Sirine starts to describe food in a negative way; sweet and flavorful good becomes bland and unappetizing, Through the reflection of food, we can also see Sirine's feelings and mental health. After Han left and disappeared, nothing tasted the same; it is almost as if the way she saw the world shited into a gloomy perspective.
Looking back at when Han and Sirine made Baklava, it is a beautiful and meaningful scene. Sirine had expressed that it is somewhat difficult to make. The two of them shared their first special moment through food, there was a nostalgic feeling surrounding them; Sirine remembers what life was like then, and Han recalls memories of his family.
Most of the scenes also took place in the kitchen, where Sirine works, and it is almost like her second home. She met Han in a restaurant and found out he is still alive in the same place. Sirine is someone who is somewhat going through an identity crisis, because she lost her parents at a young age, and lost the opportunity to be in touch with her culture. Food, in a way, becomes one way she can feel connected to her Arabic side. For Sirine, Food is a love language.
No comments:
Post a Comment