I liked the title, “Scoff” meaning both “referring to someone in a way that shows you have a low assessment of what they think or have to say” and “eating food quickly and with enthusiasm, gulping it down”. The author’s name, Pen Vogle, also seemed singularly appropriate for a writer.
However, I found the book ultimately disappointing. It consists of short bite sized chapters, but in total, at 470 closely printed pages, it is too long. The numerous reviews quoted on and after the cover all gush, asking for more. The one with a germ of truth was from the Literary Review describing it a “series of dazzling essays”, and this is what it is, un-joined up pieces, which could each be read on a short plane or train journey.
I scoffed in particular at the review, which described it as “essential … astonishing that nobody has done this book before.” Actually they have, each chapter was like an article, food page or restaurant review from the weekend editions of the better London papers.
It is well written and I was tempted by the recipes at the end of some of the chapters. After about 120 pages I stopped reading, as I thought I had learnt nothing new of significance, nor was it likely any theoretical model would be revealed or conclusion reached. I liked the literary references and found the greatest pleasure from the book in reading them for themselves, whilst ignoring the chapters which they head up or in which they are embedded.
Of Books, Bikes & Islands 