Ah, restaurants.

I sometimes think I like eating out in restaurants so much because I have worked in many restaurants, and know what goes on behind the scenes. Some would argue that knowing what goes on in restaurant kitchens might make you less likely to love eating out, but I just don't think about the less savory aspects of that knowledge.* What I focus on is the unrelenting shittiness of restaurant work, and how much you need the camaraderie of your co-workers just to get by.

Which is where Stewart O'Nan's lovely little 146-page novel Last Night at the Lobster comes in. It's exactly what its title proclaims it: the chronicle of the day's events at a Red Lobster restaurant that has been slated for closure. Also part of the story is Manny's (the manager's) affair with Jacquie, one of his servers, and how that affair is over, as Manny's girlfriend is pregnant and Jacquie is staying with her boyfriend. That story was done well. But the real glory here is Manny, and his somewhat endearing hope that he and his staff have one last good night.

"Walking along the line, he passes his hand like a magician over the Frialators and the grill to make sure they're off. The ice machine's on and full--good. He crosses to the time clock and punches in before he hangs up his jacket, checks to make sure the safe is secure, then pushes through the swinging door to the dining room.

It's dusk in here, rays of soft light sneaking around the blinds, picking out a glossy tabletop, a brass rail, the sails of a model schooner. By the main wait station, a point-of-sale screen glows, a square of royal blue. He hesitates at the switches, appreciating the dimness." (p. 5.)

That's just perfect.** At times Manny seemed a little too good to be true (he seemed to be a hard worker who cared about both the company bottom line and his employees, which is a rare combination in managers, I've found) but that was okay with me. It's a great little novel.

*Yes, I've seen kitchen staff spit in food. If you ask me if I have I'll take the fifth. I will say this: usually people who evoke this kind of behavior really, really deserve it. I mean REALLY deserve it. Restaurant staff are busy, after all, and don't always have time to exact retribution. So just don't actively try to piss off your server and you'll be fine.

**The cover is perfect too. It doesn't show up well here, but it's a beautiful cover.

Comments

[Tripp]

Thanks for the reminder on this one. I saw it somewhere and meant to place a hold. Will do so now!

[Citizen Reader]

You're welcome, Tripp, do let me know what you think of it, okay? I'd love to hear another opinion on it--I've not heard many others speak of it! I'm also going to try some other Stewart O'Nans; evidently he's known as the "bard of the working class." Further bulletins as events warrant.

[Tripp]

Right, right, he also wrote Songs of the Missing. I heard something about that, maybe on this blog?

[Melanie]

I really enjoyed this book. O'Nan packed a lot into a short book.

[Citizen Reader]

Tripp,
Nope, you didn't hear about Songs... here--this was my first O'Nan. But I like the title "Songs of the Missing." Maybe that's the one I'll try next.

Melanie,
You and me both! And I loved that it was short, as well. Easily readable in a night. Perfect.

[Mary]

Stewart O'Nan is the master of creating a book that you can't put down, even though not much really happens. Songs for the Missing was just as good as Last Night at the Lobster. If you have a little more time, check out Wish You Were Here.

[Citizen Reader]

Thanks, Mary, I'm adding "Wish You Were Here" to the scarily piled TBR pile!

[S. Krishna]

This book sounds interesting - I'll have to check it out!

[Bookie]

I once put more than a dollop of cigarette ash in someone's soup after they refused to have my friend wait their table, and requesting someone "non-gay". Teehee...they got me instead, Karma's a bitch baby!

[Citizen Reader]

S. Krishna:
Yes, do. I wasn't all that excited about it when I picked it up but it turned out to be a really good read.

Bookie,
Yes, I always pursued a "don't ask, don't tell" policy about what people were doing in the kitchen. I trusted my co-workers more than I trusted our customers--if a colleague did anything, you know, dollop of cigarette ashy, well then, I figured...someone had done something to ask for it!
Ah, karma.