SHE'S GONE CHILAQUILES

A short, entertaining volume of autobiographical essays, frequently involving food.

Schott’s eclectic collection covers a broad range of subjects, from memories of childhood experiences to a raunchy list of don’ts when reentering the dating world after 15 years of marriage. The topics of these generally lighthearted offerings are unbound by chronology, loping fluidly back and forth through various times and places. Her poems, loosely structured in limerick format, are sassy and breezy and are usually odes to her favorite comestibles: “Hot Stuff” extols the virtues of her homemade nachos, and “Ode to Ravioli” is a sensual delight. Schott also sprinkles in a smattering of spicy, tantalizing vegetarian recipes. But her whimsical, irreverent, funny, and often very tender essays reveal her contemplative appreciation for life’s quirks, joys, and happenstances. Frequently, they meander in unexpected directions. Three paragraphs about a gentle man named Frank who lived next to Schott’s preschool pivots into a humorous, loving essay about her two dogs, one of whom, also named Frank, is emotionally fragile. The author’s eye for the hypocritical and comfort with the unconventional make her a pleasantly disarming storyteller, capably dropping surprising tidbits of information. Schott also effectively shows a fondness for train travel: “People riding the train,” she writes in “On the Right Track,” “seem to be more sociable than in other environments, more excited about meeting each other, more curious.” In this essay—one of several about journeys by rail—she tells of meeting Windy, an elderly man wearing a cowboy hat, in a dining car and learning that he worked rodeos in California and Texas, just like her dad. The essay concludes sweetly at a train station, where she introduces Windy to her father: “Couple of old cowboys, big grins, keeping it real.”

An enjoyable gumbo of thoughtful musings.