The Lady, the Chef, and the Courtesan

August 4, 2003
When Chicago journalist Pilar Castillo returns to her native Venezuela for her beloved grandmother Gabriela's funeral, she and her mother are shocked to see a man they do not know at the service. Who is he, and why does no one in the close-knit family recognize him? The answers lie in a packet of Gabriela's diaries, her legacy to Pilar. Divided into sections corresponding to the South American proverb that a woman must be a lady in the living room, a chef in the kitchen and a courtesan in the bedroom, Gabriela's writings encourage her granddaughter to follow her heart and be true to her passions, and tell the story of Gabriela's own failure to do so by ceding to her wealthy father's wishes, forsaking her true love and marrying the man society dictates she must. Pilar herself is wavering between two suitors—the dashing Rafael, her family's choice, and Patrick, her irreverent photographer boyfriend in the States. Pilar's and Gabriela's stories are markedly different in tone and quality. While Gabriela's story is musical and sensually written, painting an enticing picture of Venezuelan society in the '40s and '50s, Pilar's is heavy-handed and clumsy, patiently explaining her culture as if to somewhat dim-witted readers—the priest comes to dinner "in keeping with a common practice in some South American homes"; Pilar has onyx eyes, "a common trait in Venezuelan women"; the differences between America and Venezuela lie "beneath the surface" and one cannot "grasp merely by watching television." The past/present framing of the story is ungainly but, like the mangoes that provide the impetus for Gabriela's supremely erotic final chapter, the sweetness is within. 6-city author tour.