The particular sadness of lemon cake (by Aimee Bender)

(Amazon UK link)

I sometimes browse a local church bookstall, and tend to pick up books that look interesting, or quirky - I don’t mind paying fifty cents for something I might return a few months later. But occasionally I discover a real gem, perhaps an author I had not previously come across. 

I thought, when I started ‘The particular sadness of lemon cake’ by Aimee Bender, that this was going to be one of those serendipitous discoveries. The cover is appealing, the blurb intriguing, the reviews positive. It was evident from the back of the book that it was going to be a tad surreal, but that didn’t worry me.

The book is narrated by a girl called Rose who is nearly nine in the opening chapter. She’s an appealing character, one whom I liked throughout the book. The writing is good, too, with some beautiful phrasing, and descriptions that are not over-long, but quite vivid. Rose has an older brother, the clever, geeky Joseph, and they live with their parents in a residential area in the United States. 

Their father is mostly quiet and works hard; he likes checklists and structure, and he isn’t very involved with his children, but is generally benign towards them. Their mother is much more outgoing, and quickly gets bored with whatever job she’s doing. She’s recently given up on one career, and is learning to do things in the house. And she’s practising making cakes ‘from scratch’ - a phrase which always amuses me, as that’s the only way I (and my mother and grandmothers) have ever made cakes. 

The cake comes out of the oven and smells wonderful, and Rose takes a piece. But it doesn’t taste as she expects. She can sense each ingredient, and something else which seems to be connected to her mother’s mood. She’s quite disturbed by this, and more so when she realises that everything she eats now affects her in the same way. 

Which is a most unusual start to a book. Joseph has a friend called George who becomes very interested in Rose’s new ability, and they do some testing together. He remains her hero throughout, even as she grows up. But nobody else really understands what’s going on, and it leads to some quite distressing experiences for her. In particular she discovers something about her mother which she isn’t supposed to know…

The trouble is, there isn’t a whole lot more that can be done with this particular talent; as Rose grows, she learns to harness it better, to eat factory-made junk food which won’t have any emotions attached. When she discovers a restaurant where the food tastes wonderful, she returns and eventually decides to work there. But her story somewhat fades out.

Instead the focus switches more to Joseph, who’s a secretive boy - I thought at first that he was autistic, and perhaps he is, though that’s never mentioned. He’s very clever, particularly in science, but what Rose finds most disturbing is that he seems to have the ability to vanish. They will be alone in the house and she can’t find him anywhere… then he reappears, looking a bit confused, as if he had never been out. 

We don’t really learn what’s going on until rather later in the book, and it’s so bizarre I thought Rose must have made a mistake. Her food-related talent is strange but coherent; Joseph’s talent makes no sense, serves no value, and it’s not even explained how it works. 

The book is quite interesting in that it explores a lot of different relationships in low-key ways; we learn about Rose’s school-friends, and the boy she kisses, and the ways her relationship with her parents changes as she matures. But the subplot about Joseph spoiled the book for me - and it doesn’t even end in a positive way.

So, after all, this is one of the books I’ll be returning. It’s good to read things outside my usual genre, and I’m glad I picked this up. But it’s not one I’d particularly recommend, and not a book I plan to read again.

However, don’t necessarily take my word for it; the professional critics liked it very much. 

Review copyright 2026 Sue's Book Reviews