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64 pages 2 hours read

Goodbye, Vitamin

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 2017

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Symbols & Motifs

Cooking

Cooking is an important motif in the text. Ruth learns to cook as a way to care for her father and to try to exert some control over her father’s declining memory. When Ruth first arrives home, she is surprised to find that her mother, who “once made all our meals from scratch” (14), no longer cooks. Annie blames herself for Howard’s Alzheimer’s, thinking that it was “years of cooking in aluminum pots, cooking with canned goods, that led to the dementia” (14). When Ruth moves back home, she quickly grows tired of takeout and finds a new passion for cooking as she reads Alzheimer’s online forums and learns about ingredients that can aid in preventing memory loss. She begins to view food and cooking as something tangible she can do to help her father’s symptoms–“A diet can’t reverse harm that’s already done, I know. But what if it could halt the decline?” (85)–as well as a way to connect with him.

When Ruth makes her first dish, a cobbled-together spaghetti with tomato and almond sauce, she writes about the elation she feels when Howard leaves his study to join her at the table:

Suddenly there is pasta and there is sauce and the semblance of a real meal [...] Against all odds he follows me down the stairs and takes a seat at the set table. Dad eats the pasta, and at first I am too stunned to join him. I can hardly believe my luck” (60).

She feels happy for the rest of the night after sharing this meal with Howard and makes it her mission to serve him food that will support healthy memory function.

Ruth admittedly goes overboard in some of her recipes, which corresponds with her anxiety about Howard’s condition. After reading that jellyfish can promote memory retention, Ruth searches high and low for a grocery store that carries it and then proceeds to cook a jellyfish-centric meal: “Jellyfish salad, Thai-style. Jellyfish soup. Jellyfish fritters. Jellyfish pickles. Jellyfish spaghetti, with jellyfish noodles and jellyfish sauce. The eaters are not exactly enthusiastic, but they are, at least, polite” (113). As her father’s illness continues to progress despite Ruth’s cooking, Ruth learns to let go of her anxiety around food and finds new ways to use food to connect with her father, such as pleasure:

Today I cooked you spaghetti and the sauce tasted plain and sour. Sugar and fat are bad for you. I didn’t want to include anything bad. But today you said, Think of all the mice the scientists are studying: all those mice with Alzheimer’s [...] They forget many things, but they never forget how much they like peanut butter (168).

Without directly saying so, Howard reminds Ruth that he still wants basic, human pleasures such as good-tasting food and that Ruth need not cling so tightly to her anxiety about not wanting to give him anything “bad.” In this quote, he shows Ruth that while his illness may progress, there are parts of him that will remain the same. As Ruth and the family find a better balance in caring for Howard, Ruth includes more positive food memories with Howard: buying fries and milkshakes and In-N-Out, roasting a stolen chicken on the rotisserie, and eating the emergency canned peaches together.

Dreams

Ruth has a series of dreams throughout the text that symbolize her anxiety about her father’s condition. Early on in her stay at home, she dreams that “I’m King Midas but instead of gold it’s aluminum. Everything I touch turns to it. I hug my father and poof! He turns into a tin man. ‘I have a heart,’ he says, sorrowfully.” (73). The aluminum in her dream connects to her mother’s reticence to cook any longer, thinking that her use of aluminum pans caused Howard’s illness. In her dream, Ruth transfers this guilt to herself. It is also significant her father turns into a tin man, a character known for his missing heart. In the dream, her father claims that he does have a heart but that he is “always cold,” a reference to the fact that while he caused his family a great deal of pain, he is not heartless and loves them deeply. The allusion to The Wizard of Oz also foreshadows the book’s resolution, connecting with the former’s emphasis on the importance of home, family, honesty, and collaboration to get through crises.

Ruth has another dream that relates to her anxieties about her father’s illness. In her dream, the family is living together, and her father has 58 dogs, a number that corresponds with his age. Ruth has this dream each night, and in each iteration of the dream, another dog runs away. As the dogs run away, Howard’s memory worsens. Finally, Ruth and her family realize that each dog represents a year’s worth of memories: “After ten dogs run away you can’t remember anything from the past ten years. And then it’s fifteen. And then you forget Linus. And then you forget me” (167). As each dog runs away, Howard forgets another year of his life. The dream sequence ends when there are six dogs left, and Ruth’s diary entry ends before all the dogs run away. The dream reflects Ruth’s concern over the unknown of what lies ahead for them, but dogs themselves embody loyalty and unconditional love, and their presence in this recurring dream ties to Howard’s later revelation that even when he forgets someone’s name, he doesn’t forget how he feels about them. With this, the text suggests that even when memories fade, core emotions and embodied memories can remain.

Howard’s Journal Entries/Letters to Ruth

When Ruth returns to live at home for the year, her father shows her a journal he kept when Ruth was young. Each entry records different things Ruth said or did as a child, and Ruth disperses these entries throughout her own diary. Howard’s journal is an important symbol and reminder that while Howard is flawed, he harbors a deep love for Ruth.

The entries cover a wide range. Many of what Howard writes are small, funny moments from when Ruth was a child, interspersed with reflections of his profound love for her: “I didn’t have the heart to tell you that there is no such thing as a bagel tree. Today I thought: I’m nuts–I’m just nuts–about you” (155). There are also moments of introspection and pain in Howard’s journal that he rarely displays in person: “Today you mixed pretend Bloody Marys and used Scrabble tile holders for make-believe celery. It reminded me: I don’t not have a drinking problem” (157). While Howard struggles to admit his mistakes and flaws to his family, his journal shows that he does think about the way his actions impact those around him.

Howard shares his journal with Ruth as a gift to her, and oftentimes his entries and letters to her say what Howard struggles to articulate in person: “[T]oday I thought of what I would give to have time just stop here. […] I’m waiting for the day you’re going to leave me. I’d give: All the money I’ve got. My entire set of teeth [...] Any of it, all of it, just to keep you here” (155). Through these letters, Ruth gains insight into her father’s true feelings for her and receives a fuller picture of her childhood with him.

Howard’s journal entries inspire Ruth, and towards the end of the text, Ruth’s journal entries take on a similar style to his. Much as Howard’s journal reads as a collection of quotidian moments throughout Ruth’s childhood, Ruth records moments in Howard’s life, down to mirroring how he begins each entry with “Today [...]” This writing style helps Ruth get out of her head and appreciate the present moment:

You repeated about how nice the day was, either because you really wanted me to know it or because you’d forgotten you already mentioned it [...] it didn’t matter what you remembered or didn’t [...] All that mattered was that the day was nice–was what it was” (184).

At the end of the text, Ruth writes: “Here I am, in lieu of you, collecting the moments” (189). Both Ruth’s diary and her father’s letters are symbols of their bond, collections of memories that they record for themselves and each other. Their journals are acts of memory–as Ruth states, even though her father may not remember these moments, she feels it is important to record them on his behalf, to remember this time, much as Howard did when Ruth was a child.

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