I'll Never Be Long Gone

I picked this book up at the library because I was hungry and the food on the cover looked delicious (better than going to the grocery store hungry, I suppose!). After reading the inside cover, it sounded like a good read. It sat on my bedside table for a couple weeks, and I finally picked it up 2 nights ago, after finishing another book I'd been reading. I read the inside cover blurb again, and, truthfully, was not that excited about it. Maybe because I wasn't hungry then, but the book just didn't jump at me like it did before. I am glad I started reading it anyways though, as it is wonderful. Greene appeals to all the senses with his words - sight, smell, taste, touch, and sound. While the characters are not as deep as they could be, I am still enjoying the story, and will probably finish it off before bed tonight!

From Publishers Weekly
The rugged, rain-lashed landscape of Eden, Vt., becomes a palpably biblical backdrop for a moving generational tale in Greene's second novel (after Mirror Lake). The Bender brothers—Charlie, 18, and Owen, 17—find their lives reshaped by the will of their formidable late father. To Charlie goes the family restaurant, Charlotte's; to Owen goes $10,000 and a directive to find himself. Greene flashes to years when Charles Sr. pitted son against son in Iron Chef–like matches—picking his successor, it's now clear. Charles's will also bequeaths his wife the freedom to return to city life, which she promptly does. Working himself to the bone in the kitchen, Charlie seeks an assistant chef, and Owen's high school girlfriend, Claire Apple, resurfaces with impeccable timing, having acquired both beauty and culinary savvy in her time away from Eden. The two fall in love, marry and have a son, Jonah, setting the stage for a smoldering Cain-and-Abel conflict when Owen returns after years of adventures. Greene's evocative descriptions of nature, food and love infuse this novel with sensuality and a nostalgia-tinged melancholy. And if Greene's reach for scriptural allegory feels presumptive, the book is redeemed by its careful consideration of the burden, and blessing, of legacy.