A certain hunger: a novel / Chelsea G. Summers.

Enhanced descriptions from Syndetics:

One of Vanity Fair 's Books That Will Get You Through This Winter
"One of the most uniquely fun and campily gory books in my recent memory... A Certain Hunger has the voice of a hard-boiled detective novel, as if metaphor-happy Raymond Chandler handed the reins over to the sexed-up femme fatale and really let her fly." -- The New York Times

Food critic Dorothy Daniels loves what she does. Discerning, meticulous, and very, very smart, Dorothy's clear mastery of the culinary arts make it likely that she could, on any given night, whip up a more inspired dish than any one of the chefs she writes about. Dorothy loves sex as much as she loves food, and while she has struggled to find a long-term partner that can keep up with her, she makes the best of her single life, frequently traveling from Manhattan to Italy for a taste of both.

But there is something within Dorothy that's different from everyone else, and having suppressed it long enough, she starts to embrace what makes Dorothy uniquely, terrifyingly herself. Recounting her life from a seemingly idyllic farm-to-table childhood, the heights of her career, to the moment she plunges an ice pick into a man's neck on Fire Island, Dorothy Daniels show us what happens when a woman finally embraces her superiority.

A satire of early foodieism, a critique of how gender is defined, and a showcase of virtuoso storytelling, Chelsea G. Summers' A Certain Hunger introduces us to the food world's most charming psychopath and an exciting new voice in fiction.

Reviews provided by Syndetics

Library Journal Review

DEBUT Presented as a prison memoir, this tale is narrated by the funny and astute Dorothy Daniels, a food critic who just happens to be an unrepentant cannibalistic serial killer. (Please don't call her a mass murderer, as "mass murder is to serial killing as McDonald's is to Peter Luger's.") A slave to her appetites, Dorothy recalls Hannibal Lecter in her sophistication and refinement. A sensual being, she is descriptive and exacting in her depictions of both sex and food. Ever clear-eyed, she sees the large-scale butcher operation of her Italian boyfriend for what it is, "a carefully planned organization bent on the extermination of animals for our gastronomical pleasure"; understanding that others choose to look away, she obfuscates the uncomfortable truths into an award-winning magazine profile (before killing and eating him). The psychopathic, darkly feminist antihero can be viewed as a big middle finger to the common practice of judging a female protagonist on her "likability" or "relatability." VERDICT You won't soon forget Dorothy or her delicious insights, but fair warning: This book might turn you into a vegetarian, if you aren't already. (Though as Dorothy herself acknowledges, "It's surprisingly easy to overcome moral qualms, if you give in to the appetite.")--Lauren Gilbert, Ctr. for Jewish History, NY

Publishers Weekly Review

Summers debuts with the fiendishly entertaining account of the rise and fall of Dorothy Daniels, a successful food writer and convicted murderer. Narrator Daniels chronicles her love of food, men, and the development of a cannibalistic urge that earns her the names "MILF Killer" and "Butcher Food Critic" in the tabloids. Written from prison, Daniels's story gradually unfolds in flashbacks as she acknowledges she has both "intimidating intelligence" and "a dearth of conscience," and that her "fondness for gratification" brought on her downfall. Watching the hypocrisy of her parents' supposedly perfect Connecticut domestic bliss, Daniels learns early on that "femininity was junk" and traditional roles of wife and mother are not for her. After college in the 1980s, she moves to Boston and writes for the Boston Phoenix. She soon leaves for New York City, where she launches a successful career writing for lifestyle magazines. Her work brings her to Italy, where she takes on a series of lovers and, after accidentally killing one with her Fiat, decides to cook his liver. The result: "delectable." Daniels proudly bears her traits as a diagnosed psychopath in the first chapter, a review of a Corpse Reviver #2 cocktail that segues into rhapsody for an ill-fated lover. Despite Daniels's crimes, she is a consistently appealing companion. With graphic sex and violence, Summers's shocking and darkly funny novel reads like a feminist-horror version of American Psycho. (Dec.)

Kirkus Book Review

Think Eat, Pray, Love if the narrator were a wildly articulate and charming cannibal. "Why, I wonder now, did I kill him?" ponders Dorothy Daniels from her prison cell. Imprisoned for life (plus 20 years), she fondly recounts a decade of killing her lovers, starting with the last unsuspecting victim, whose grisly demise begins with a delicious duck confit and abruptly ends with an ice pick to the neck. "Maybe he was my middle-aged madness, my little red Corvette, my last great gasp before I headed off into menopause." Summers' narrator is far from your stereotypical psychotic serial killer. She's a 51-year-old bestselling author, revered food writer, and James Beard Award winner. Her work has been published in glossy magazine spreads "as slick as oiled thighs," but those days have come and gone, and her "inevitable slow ebb into obscurity" with the rest of print media is looming. Instead of quietly succumbing to her fate, she discovers a new interest: "Giovanni. I killed him and ate his liver." Like a lecherous M.F.K. Fisher sprinkled with the beguiling depravity of Hannibal Lecter, Dorothy travels the world, eating its food and its men, relishing every bite along the way--including a rump roast made out of...you know. Part culinary travelogue, part campy horror, Summers' debut is nothing if not wholly original. Though at times it can become a little tiresome reading from the point of view of a full-blown sociopath, the book offers a perspective hardly explored: that of a woman who's not just angry, but violent. In a literary canon rife with novels glorifying sadistic men, that alone is worth applauding. Unabashedly and full-heartedly living out her id, Dorothy balances her most revolting qualities with a caustic wit, a kind of wink and a nod to readers when things get ghastly that it's all in good fun. After all, she argues, "Power is the ultimate aphrodisiac." Move aside, Bret Easton Ellis. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.