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At home, Ushman makes rice and lentils. As he and Farak did when they had many people for dinner, he sits on the rug in the living room, with his bowl in his lap. There is a soccer match on TV. The game keeps him company. He accepts his loneliness with resolve. It is familiar to him. There are no surprises in it.

-The Rug Merchant by Meg Mullins

Aside from living vicariously through other people's sadness, it has been a while since I have experienced my own permeating melancholy. So when I sit here wondering what food it is that I prefer to have when I am swimming in the blues, I come up empty-handed. There was a time when I'd go out and buy myself chocolate chip cookies, ice cream, and a good amount of string cheese - but these days I'd like to think that I'd choose a healthier fare like Ushman did.

"This is the way in Iran," he says, placing a cube between Stella's own teeth for her. His finger brushes against her bottom lip. She puts the cup to her lips and drinks. Then she holds the cube between her thumb and forefinger.
"It's good," she says, "but what about conversation?"
Ushman smiles, displaying his own sugar cube.
"Yeth, ith ith juth thumthing you learn to do. A wight of passagth."

-The Rug Merchant by Meg Mullins

I usually don't mind reading sad books, but I'll admit that I was relieved when I closed The Rug Merchant and switched my focus to what I would prepare. It reminded me of when I was dating, when cultural differences and lack of authenticity were part of whatever relationship I was in at the time. Thankfully I'm no longer dating, and thankfully there were a few happy moments in the book, including a moment with tea.

The van's doors were open, and several bags of contraband were heaped in the back, all taped up in clear plastic bags. A few of them had already been transferred to a waiting wheelbarrow. Tarquin was looking around furtively as another bear wearing faded Levi's and a BEARZONE T-shirt cut open a packet of the contraband and carefully drew out a spoonful. He sniffed it suspiciously, mixed it with milk and heated it over a lighter before adding some brown sugar and salt, then sipping the result.
"This is good," he said at last in a deep voice, making a few lip-smacky noises. "How much you got?"

-The Fourth Bear by Jasper Fforde

Reading Jasper Fforde's novels is like watching Monty Python or a Leslie Nielsen film (Naked Gun movies come to mind) - the comedy is cheesy and completely funny, but mostly the language and dialog are clearly representative of a writer who loves wordsmithing.