Reviews for Piglet
Kirkus
Copyright © Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
An addictive novel about a London cookbook editor whose life veers off course weeks before her wedding. Piglet, the narrator of Hazell’s debut novel, seems to have it all: a good job, a new house, fancy cookware and boundless energy for whipping up perfect meals, and a fiance whose upper-crust family promises to whisk her away from her middle-class upbringing. However, Piglet’s false modesty and her fiance Kit’s lavish toast to her, “the cause of every good thing I have in my life,” set off alarm bells by the end of the first chapter. An italicized note before the start of the next chapter amplifies that unease by letting us know Kit is going to tell Piglet something damaging—we don’t know what—13 days before their wedding. Kit’s betrayal drives the novel forward in an unexpected way. Hazell’s choice to withhold a crucial bit of information won’t bother some readers, while others will feel like the book is a recipe with a vital ingredient missing. The novel teases out the ways Piglet betrays herself long before Kit’s confession and how she rages against the conventions of femininity and bourgeois restraint afterwards. The result is some seriously brilliant cringe. When Piglet wanders into an Indian restaurant by herself and orders every dish on the menu days before her wedding-dress fitting, it’s hard not to squirm, and harder still to avoid interrogating the reasons for one’s intense discomfort. The effect is similar when Piglet goes around telling everyone, including Kit’s family and hers, his big secret. Hazell balances these quasi-comedic moments with quieter ones to keep Piglet real. Her shame about her parents is poignant, especially because they really love her. “We’re proud of you, Piglet,” her father says. “I know that doesn’t mean much from your old dad back in Derby….” Like the food that Piglet cooks, Hazell’s sentences are delicious. The lowly lentil, for example, has never looked so exciting, blooming in broth before Piglet hears “the angry, thumping hiss of something catching on cast iron.” A novel that you will devour first and savor later. Copyright © Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Book list
From Booklist, Copyright © American Library Association. Used with permission.
Piglet, as the protagonist of Hazell's debut novel is called, earned her nickname as her parents' "daughter who ate," a family story often told. Now she's about to be married, dieting and whittling herself down for the white dress of her dreams. A foodie working her way up at a cookbook publisher, she still loves to cook for her fiancé Kit until, with less than two weeks to the big day, he makes a confession that he expects will end their relationship. It doesn't, but it cracks something in Piglet, who wants everything to be as good as it looks—her chic new house, the provincial past she's growing beyond, her wealthy new in-laws, the elaborate wedding croquembouche she'll make her very self. But soon even she can tell she's barely hanging on. (Readers will learn Piglet's real name but never what, exactly, Kit did to betray her.) While characters and their motivations are sometimes just out of reach, Piglet excels in its crisp dialogue and Hazell's glorious descriptions of Piglet's cooking and the foods she hungers for.
Publishers Weekly
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Hazell debuts with the delicious narrative of a disastrous wedding. The bride is a London cookbook editor known by her childhood nickname, Piglet. Thirteen days before the ceremony, her fiancé, Kit, confesses that he’s cheated on her, and the ensuing stress leads her to relapse into binge-eating, something she’s struggled with since childhood. She’s also fallen out with her pregnant best friend Margot over the decision to move ahead with the wedding despite Kit’s unfaithfulness, and she becomes obsessed with making the wedding cake, an elaborate croquem bouche. Margot, before their falling out, warned Piglet that “counting down to events in days makes you sound like a serial killer,” and though there’s no violence, Margot’s words echo unsettlingly as Piglet withdraws emotionally from Kit and begins dodging her coworkers to arrange sessions of binge-eating. Hazell occasionally slips into stereotypes, as when she describes Piglet’s family members trying to stuff her into her wedding dress, but she also offers unflinching depictions of disordered eating, including a scene in which Piglet devours a pile of burgers in a chain restaurant and her fingers fuse together from the mess, causing her hand to look more like a hoof. When the big date finally arrives, Piglet finally resists the old-fashioned notions of the perfect bride. It’s an appealing cautionary tale. (Feb.)
