On the surface, Stanley Park is a simple, albeit fiendishly entertaining, story. Chef Jeremy Papier runs an up-and-coming restaurant in Vancouver -- a restaurant that's devoted to local food, and local atmosphere. The 100 Mile Diet shoved into a little place in Crosstown. He's head chef, and his good friend (and potential romantic interest) Jules Capelli is his sous chef, pastry chef, and restaurant partner in crime. Life is hectic (what life isn't, when restaurants are involved), and there's a niggling disquiet introduced in the first interactions that Jeremy has with his father -- an anthropologist in the midst of a submersive study on the homeless in Vancouver's Stanley Park -- but when the reader is first introduced to all involved, life seems on the whole to be good. Naturally, of course, things are not so. Jeremy has money issues. His restaurant, though popular and decidedly hip, is losing money. Jeremy is, in fact, in deep shit -- shit that becomes all the more apparent when his scrambling debt finally comes to the attention of his original restaurant investor, Dante Beale.Dante is a business man and neighbour of Jeremy's father, and he runs a hugely successful chain of coffee houses in Vancouver called Inferno. (Some articles on the novel have highlighted the obviousness of these monikers, but as a gal who has done some obvious character naming in her time, I found them hilariously fun.) Dante has also been wanting to get his hands on Jeremy's restaurant for some time, much to the chagrin of the lovely sous-chef, and this all comes to a head about halfway through the book, when Jeremy must finally go to Dante and admit his money failures.Running parallel to the restaurant woe is another storyline involving Jeremy and his father, the Professor. As mentioned, the Professor is doing a study on the homeless people who live in Stanley Park. While initially somewhat estranged, Jeremy's own fascination with local food and what it means inevitably draws him closer to his father's world. The closeness that develops between the two men over the course of the novel was, I felt, a beautiful thing to watch. Guarded at first, but unfolding slowly, like the trees themselves ...Anyway. Big Bad Dante steps in, finally, and takes the restaurant over. Guts the place. Hires Jeremy's new paramour (a beguiling -- and yet oddly repulsive, in a you're-too-charming-to-be-true kind of way -- girl named Benny) as the new decorator, and proceeds to turn the restaurant into precisely the kind of uber-hip, urban fusion cuisine juggernaut that Jeremy's spent his whole career fighting quietly against.What a bastard! (Can you say bastard in a book review? Oh well.) Oooh, the transformation of the restaurant got me so mad. But the descriptions of the food were delicious, and my faith in Jeremy Papier strong, and so I continued ...I don't think I can say much more without giving away the plot, but the resolution of this novel basically staggered me with its brilliant execution. Reading the latter half of this novel was like watching one continuous panned shot of a sophisticated, culinary art film. (I doubt that "culinary art" is a film genre, but it should be. Fact.) Bright flashing colours and subterfuge and good-looking people all over the place. Again -- fiendishly entertaining. So, so good.But what lifted this book above mere entertainment for me, and put it into that realm of the Seleckys and the Atwoods, was how Taylor managed to combine his restaurant narrative and his anthropological narrative in such a fantastic conclusion at the end. So good. This is a novel of ideas that somehow also manages to be a novel of concrete textures and people and colours. It's fun, but also hugely important, and while this might sound simple, too often these are hard things to achieve all at the same time. (This is where my you'll never be this good ever ever voice kicks in.)Somehow, though, Taylor does it. And he does it all in such a fun, funny, entertaining way, with language that's straight and clean while still managing to be breathtaking and innovative all at the same time.So this is a book that's floored me, basically. This is the kind of novel -- not least of all because it's about food -- that makes me want to be a writer, to be a person who can use her words well, and build a world that makes the reader see their own world differently, even after the book's conclusion. Of course it's not perfect (though I'm pretty darn close to thinking of it so) -- the build up to Jeremy's financial meltdown lasts maybe a little longer than it should, and Benny shifts out of Jeremy's life rather quickly in the last third of the book -- but overall these are tiny, tiny niggles. I loved every inch of this novel. I wish there was a sequel. I'm going to read and re-read this and savour the language every time.
Stanley Park by Timothy Taylor centres on a Vancouver born, French trained chef Jeremy Papier as he strives to stick to his culinary principals whilst his restaurant plummets into economic crisis. He has been running his restaurant with some success, serving sophisticated, hearty meals made with locally sourced sustainable ingredients and he is happy doing so., however his financial problems however are amassing thick and fast due to the immense price discrepancy between fresh, local, seasonal fare and that which he can get - cut price, year round, sold in bulk but farmed in Korea. Farmed in fact anywhere in the world, and this notion of ‘culinary homelessness’ is one that is raised forcefully throughout the novel.Jeremy’s financial kite is soaring strong and high but – despite his frenetic juggling of an impressive array of credit cards, its all about to come crashing down, unbeknownst to his culinary partner and best friend Jules. Add to these worries a neighbour and some times friend Dante who could solve Jeremy’s money problems without blinking but who rarely discloses the full price of an arrangement until its too late. Also Jeremy’s estranged father who has taken off to live amongst the homeless of Vancouver’s Stanley Park in order to write his new book researched through this ‘immersive psychology’. As Jeremy deals with debts and menus and Dante’s increasing strangle hold on his business, his father becomes more and more prominent in his life. A man Jeremy has intentionally turned his back on and neglected over the years is now appearing in thought and person at many strange and inopportune moments. After fighting it for as long as he can, without really knowing why, Jeremy finally allows his father in and follows him into Stanley park, a place of lost and wandering souls, a place of myth and legend, a place where thousands of people homeless for one reason or many, unseen by the throngs of people who pass through during the day, are making their homes and their lives, struggling to stay warm and fed day after day. Jeremy becomes more and more involved in their lives and their struggles, hearing their tales, learning their pasts, understanding his father’s involvement and fixation with these people, he begins feeding them. After he closes his restaurant he goes to the park and feeds the homeless, cooking up the things that they bring, turning their scavenged and poached offerings into wholesome, sociable cuisine. His ideals and perspectives change as he does this and he begins formulating a plan for his new restaurants ‘opening night’, a plan to give the critics a menu that they’ll never forget. A intelligent, powerful and thought provoking novel, Stanley park is also exceptionally easy to read with engaging prose and a page turning plot.
What do You think about Stanley Park (2003)?
After the first few chapters I thought for sure that this book was going to be a struggle to finish. It was bizarre and crazy. But somehow those weird characters, strange ideas and curious happenings turned into an enthralling read. The author really knows Vancouver. He caught the attitudes of the hippie vs. hipster vs. corporate vs. homeless that made it obvious he's lived and been a part of this city. The entire story revolves around the son and his cooking. Which kind of makes it sound like a foodie story but I found it good even though I am not usually a fan of food descriptions (I don't cook and don't care to learn, thus not making me very interested). The characters include the homeless (maybe crazy), a corporate bigwig, chefs, a librarian and lots of credit (trust me it's almost a character).The nemesis Dante, his business and his attitude were a favorite part for me. He's a successful creep and I wonder who he's based on because he kinda reminds me of Chip Wilson (lululemon founder).Somehow a jumble of people and stories managed to be cohesive and engaging.
—Dawn
I first picked this up from the shelf because my father's name was Stanley. Then I realised that it is set in Canada, and I have visited Stanley Park in Vancouver, where they have a great display of native American totem poles. And where we sat and watched a cricket match, which bizarrely I've never done in England (I'm English, by the way). What's more, our hire car broke down in Stanley Park on the first day of our holiday, and we had to wait there until a replacement was brought to us. Ah, memories! The book also reminded me that there are raccoons in the park. It was the first time I'd ever seen them, and I must have photos somewhere. The fact that I've been to Stanley Park added to the story, as I could visualise the setting, although I hadn't realised the forest was so huge. I was also perplexed by the statement that grey squirrels had been imported from Britain and were somehow threatening the native red squirrel, as in Britain the native red squirrel has been almost eliminated by the introduction of the more aggressive American grey squirrels!This book wasn't at all what I'd expected. Based on the cover photo of a full knife rack with one knife coloured red, and the author's note at the beginning which mentions the discovery of the remains of two children in Stanley Park in 1953, the "Babes in the Wood", I assumed that the book was a thriller. In fact, it was something much better. The descriptions of the food were mouthwatering, and Jeremy's dedication to locally-sourced food admirable. Unfortunately he was forced to abandon his principles and bow to the fanciful flights of fantasy of his rich financier, who recognised his talent but wanted to impose a concept based on image alone: the colour of the food (gold and purple) and a menu designed to impress by name-dropping, rather than by providing food which would make people want to return because of the quality. I enjoyed the descriptions of the cooking process, and noted that Jeremy's cooperative style was more reminiscent of Jamie Oliver than the aggressive alpha-male style of Gordon Ramsey or Lenny Henny's fictional 'Chef'. A style not at all suited to Dante Beale's aggressive market-response-led restaurant ideas, yuppies seeking "wired, post-national, with vibrant flavours"; "over sixty we're not much worried about - they don't like France or Italy or dishes that are too crunchy."Another theme in the book is the research which Jeremy's father is doing amongst the people living rough in Stanley Park. Ironically, contrary to ingrained expectations, it is not the park-dwellers who are alcoholics and drug-takers, eating unhealthily and neglecting their children, but the high-earning professionals. Here it is worth mentioning Jeremy's godson Trout, a slightly other-worldly, perhaps autistic child, who perceptively cuts through the sophisticated surface image to reach the truths hidden within. Likewise, in the park, Jeremy's father's friends are true to themselves, more so than those in the false world of business.There are a couple of strange and unexplained occurrences in the book, so that I am left wondering if I missed something or misunderstood. On the whole, it was well worth reading, with well-rounded characters and a brilliant payback, and I'm hoping to pass it on to somebody whose unusual first name is mentioned in the book, and who I believe will appreciate the foodie aspect, too.
—Bookguide
I'm not going to finish this. I don't care about the protagonist, the oh-so-passionate chef who wants to serve "high end rubber-boot food." (Seems like that describes about about half the chef population, but this is painted as some sort of laudable, novel goal.) I don't care about the secondary characters, especially his father, who lives in a public park as part of an anthropology project on the homeless and is enigmatically remote and weird. Pages and pages of description about how the author used to be in a band has so far not inspired me to care that the author used to be in a band. And I definitely, definitely do not care about the protagonist's devotion to local food. OH MY GOD shut up already. This was written in 2001, when the local food thing was perhaps not as thoroughly over-hyped as it is now. But it's 2009, and WE GET IT already. The book is taking itself very seriously. And the whole thing feels like a pre-write. It needs thinning. Would I be more invested if this story about local food were more local to me? If the main character's father were living in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park instead of Vancouver's Stanley Park? If the protagonist's precious "Monkey's Paw Bistro" (hello, annoying name) were located in SOMA? Maybe, but doubt it. Sorry to be so cranky. And in a way I'm sorry that I can't seem to drag myself through to the part where everything goes awry, and he gets bought out by Starbucks, and then solves a really old murder mystery. But life is short. Maybe I'll flip to the end.
—Kate
