She and Casimir had no history, no love, no real flavour.īut Casimir wasn’t just a culinary disappointment. The memory, the years of shared feelings with those men could be savoured and recalled in her dishes. It didn’t feel the same as killing Giovanni, Andrew, Marco or Gil. Afterwards she realised her heart wasn’t in it. An ice-pick to the neck and the creation of a new recipe. It happened later in a house on Fire Island, New York. Of course, she wasn’t stupid enough to murder him that night. In an anonymous hotel bar, he sent over a drink, a fly unaware he was already caught in a spider’s web.

He didn’t wrong her like the others and yet she was planning his end. The handsome young man seemed a good choice of lover but Casimir should have been a simple one night stand for Dorothy, followed by a quick parting of ways. She spends her time teasing the psychologist they sent to determine her competency to stand trial and regretting not resisting her darker urges when she met Casimir, her last boyfriend, the one that got her caught. Unsurprisingly, Dorothy, who hates prison food, doesn’t get a job working in the kitchens.

The press are having a field day with unpleasant but appropriate nicknames: The MILF Killer, The Butcher Food Critic, The Bloody Nympho. Fortunately for the male of the species as the novel opens Dorothy is already behind bars and the story plays out in the present and past. New post-mortem partnerships are formed with her ex-lovers, at least in her own mind. What she does mitigates the sense of loss she feels after a breakup. A Certain Hunger feeds on our obsessions with sex, food and death.ĭorothy believes herself to be on a journey of self-actualisation, self discovery and fulfilment as she kills.

But if the idea that a boyfriend is dishy, in a literal sense, prepared with love and invention by a true culinary artist, doesn’t offend then read this satirical romp. If this idea puts you off, and I should add this novel is sexually frank too, this book may not be for you. To put not too fine a point on it, she keeps them close by devouring them for dinner. You might say chef Dorothy Daniels’ ex-partners have never really leave her. Amarone, liver and fava beans give way to Barolo, truffles and tongue – this is haute cuisine in gloriously bad taste. By a country mile, t his is the most fun we’ve had in the company of a flesh eating gourmand since Hannibal Lecter got creative in the kitchen. Hell hath no fury like a love-scorned celebrity chef and as you might expect there’s a particularly gruesome form of revenge on the menu. A niche sub-genre maybe, but it’s wicked funny if you have the stomach for it. Chick-lit cannibalism is how Chelsea G Summers describes her new dramedy thriller – and that gives you a flavour of it, the novel is a tongue-in-cheek fable.

A certain hunger paperback