Miss Eliza’s Kitchen has a fascinating subject and lots of detail, but this historical novel (not a romance) skips over the most interesting parts of the story. I wanted to love this book, but in the end I was not filled up. The material is fascinating, and the use of language is lovely, but be prepared for some frustration if you expect answers to all the questions raised and an unambiguous ending.

The book tells the story of real-life kickass woman Eliza Acton and her efforts to write a ground-breaking cookbook with the help of her servant, Ann Kirby. Ann and Eliza take turns narrating chapters. In reality we know a lot about Eliza (although of course much of her story is invented) but almost nothing about Ann. Ann’s story resonated better with me than Eliza’s, possibly because her character is unconstrained by historical events and feels more natural in her behavior and development. One of the strengths of the book is that Eliza and Ann, who take turns narrating chapters, have very different voices.

The biggest strength of this book is the way it talks about cooking as poetry (Eliza was also a poet) and as a practical skill that ordinary women could make use of to help their families be more thrifty as well as healthier. I also enjoyed the details of cooking as presented in the novel. Here’s Eliza contemplating how a cookery book could be beautifully written:

Afterward, as I scribble a short recipe for roast calves’ liver with lemon pickle, I see the poetry in my words and feel a tenuous thrill. A recipe can be as beautiful as a poem, I think. Useful and beautiful. It doesn’t have to be a graceless list of barked instructions. Take a fine white sound liver…steep it overnight with good vinegar and a sliced onion and branches of savory herbs laid over it…roast it on a clear fire…

Eliza and Ann develop a close bond, but also one with realistic problems. Eliza and Ann generally bring out the best in each other. Eliza recognizes that Ann is indispensable with regard to the creation of the cookbook, and Ann credits Eliza for not only giving her a job that allows Ann to escape grinding, life-threatening poverty, but also for helping her become a more confident artist with food in her own right. “You have nourished me,” she tells Eliza.

And yet Eliza often patronizes Ann, and Ann is often irritated by Eliza’s secrets and by Eliza’s well-meaning crusades. In narration Ann says, “She had become quite the preacher. Always angry about poverty and the injustices of life even though she’d never had a hungry day!” Eliza and Ann reach far across the class gap, but are never able to fully understand one another. Instead of becoming found family, Eliza and Ann are shaky allies for a (very long) period of time.

I liked the lyrical yet matter-of-fact quality of the writing, which seems to follow Eliza’s own maxim: “Be clear and concise.” I liked getting to know both characters, especially Ann, who has a deeply enjoyable character arc. I’m always down for food history, cookbooks, and women in history. This book includes a few of Eliza’s recipes and notes on many of the characters, who I happily looked up.

But ultimately, I was unsatisfied because the book leaves the most interesting parts of the story out, skipping over decades to a rushed and bittersweet conclusion. I had so many questions about what happened during the time that wasn’t included. How does Eliza feel when her book is published? Does her success reconcile her with her mother? How and why did Ann and Eliza go their separate ways and how did Ann end up where she is at the end of the book, following a decades-long time jump? Without knowing these things the story felt incomplete and unresolved.

Despite the enjoyment Eliza and Ann take in cooking, and despite their mutual character arcs leading to increased sense of purpose and independence, the book is in many ways a sad one. We know from the prologue that Eliza and Ann have bittersweet futures – better than they would have been without the cookbook, but never having the full recognition that they both deserve. We also know from the prologue that their alliance will not last. Watching them accomplish great things together and then seeing them divided by secrets, vast differences in life experiences, and misunderstandings is heartbreaking.

I can’t fault the quality of the language in the book, but I do think that from a technical standpoint that the book is weaker because of what it leaves out. In bringing light to the accomplishments and triumphs of Ann and Eliza, the book brings light to the limitations of their lives as well, and doesn’t fully resolve several aspects of their story together and individually. This is definitely worth a read for food and history fans, as long as you are prepared to witness partial victories and temporary relationships rather than an unqualified triumph on the part of Eliza and Ann.