Much has been made of Proust’s Madeline, but little of The Debt to Pleasure, a marvelous book by John Lanchester. It’s one of those under-the-radar books that literally heaves with references to literary icons, including Bertrand Russell, Ludwig Wittgenstein, Elizabeth David, and others, but also presents a sumptuous feast for the senses. I remember reading this when it first came out and being captivated by the vivid, nay, lascivious, descriptions of menus and meals that made you positively reel with a feeling of satiation and almost drunkeness. Lanchester is a brilliant wordsmith, and his prose crackles with a kinetic, savoury floridness that entices the reader to continue to down the road of licentiousness that the lead character, Tarquin, leads us.
Of course, I cannot hold a candles to the great John Banville, so I will stop here, and recommend, at the very least, that you read his review, and indulge yourself with a reading of the book itself.
http://www.theguardian.com/books/2015/jan/03/john-banville-john-lanchester-the-debt-to-pleasure
