Much has been said about Bonnie Garmus's Lessons in Chemistry. So when my sister chose it for our book club, I was curious, albeit cautiously.
Elizabeth Zott is a brilliant and beautiful chemist in mid-century California. She seems to have everything going for her, but "seems" is the operative word. Because the men she works with are awful. What's more, Elizabeth isn't like other women, or even people. Unflinchingly driven and uncompromising, she refuses to perform for anyone, to smile on demand or at all. She tells the truth, even when it's ugly -- and it often is --making her seem uncooperative, unlikeable, and cold to everyone but Nobel Prize-nominated fellow odd duck Calvin Evans. Yet at her core, Elizabeth is purely kind. Despite having suffered loss, violence, and the most egregious sexual discrimination imaginable, she believes that everyone deserves to be treated fairly. And it is this humanity that she brings to her cooking show, Supper at Six.
Now, if you're wondering how a no-nonsense chemist became a TV star, then I'm right there with you. Suffice it to say that unjust events in Elizabeth's life resulted in this most unlikely of developments. And although she's less than thrilled to be working with bowls instead of beakers, she makes the show her own, taking every opportunity to educate her female audience about not just cooking but chemistry and, ultimately, change. Subversive and surprisingly entertaining, Supper at Six is a syndicated smash. To me, this is where Elizabeth blossoms, her paradoxically off-putting personality, passion for science and food, and insatiable hunger for justice commingling to enable her to connect with other women. It's exciting and inspiring and all of the things. But this is still Lessons in Chemistry, not an uplifting romp about a reluctant but charismatic performer. Because as I said in the beginning, Elizabeth Zott does not perform.
There's trouble brewing at the TV station, just as there was at the lab, only worse. So some things happen, and then some more things, culminating in an ending that feels like a drop off a cliff. And although I can see how it would be satisfying for most, to me it's anticlimactic. Still, this isn't my story; it's Elizabeth Zott's. She's a scientist first and in the end, she gets what she wants and needs.
Maybe understanding -- and respecting -- that is a lesson that this very unscientific but very feminist reader needed to learn.
