Anthony Bourdain's Favorite Books Novels & Stories

"Let's start with appetizers." June's midnight blue orbs scanned one of the hard back books that weren't open yet but laid off to the side of the desk, picking up it's title in the process; FOOD FOR ALL. Written in lowercase alphabets beneath it were the words; well detailed cook book, a must have for every chef. She reached forth and grabbed the book. Almira too lost in the book she had to notice.

Levy I’ve just gone up to my room with a glass of water and a book from our downstairs library I created for Dylan when he was younger. It’s grown from children’s books to adult reads. It warms my heart that he and I share the same love for certain authors. My favorite being Lee Child and James Patterson. Sometimes we’ll have our own guy’s book club meet, and yeah bikers read too! I wouldn’t tell my bro’s they’d rib me for it because they’re like that, except maybe Lex he reads a lot too.

Antonioni's POV The next morning, around 8 a.m., Annabelle brought in one of my favorite meals. Fried eggs, spicy. Sourdough toasted just right. I had missed her cooking. I could tell she remembered how I liked it, even without asking. The yolks ran slightly, soft but not messy, like she knew I hated when the eggs came out dry. For weeks now, I’d been eating rubbish from the chefs. Most of them had no soul. Their hands were programmed, not passionate. Couldn’t blame them. Annabelle hadn’t had time. The private training with Bukky was swallowing her days whole.

Aaron asked his eyes completely focused on me. "Yeah like when I have a boy problem I turn to romantic books," he chuckled. "When I have a life problem like I'm confused about anything, i turn to all those inspirational, motivational books, family problems, family books and so on." "What do you hate or dislike?" He asked resting his elbow on the booth. I leaned forward chewing on a fry. "Ugh I absolutely hate washing dishes or the toilet, its like there's some kind of monsters in dirty dishes that freak me out....."

Which turned out to be a tired person who was glad to see his daughter. I brought books. Three of them. A novel I thought he might actually read and two nonfiction ones about things I had no particular opinion on but the spines looked serious enough that I thought he would like them. I brought food in approved containers. Rice. Stew. The way our old housekeeper used to make it because I had learned the recipe from her years ago and he had always preferred it to anything his campaign staff ordered. He ate with the focused appreciation of someone for whom a home-cooked meal had become suddenly rare.

“I don’t know.” “His favorite books.” “What? That’s crazy. All that just to gatekeep a book?” Her heart skipped and she forced a smile but deep down, she was documenting every time Damian was saying. It could lead her to another major discovery. “What kind of books does he hide them behind again?” Damian laughed. “Something dramatic.. you know, like poetry and war. Sounds like him doesn’t it.” Leah forced a chuckle. “Classic Alex.” The next series of dialogue with Damian Were filled with forced laughter and things she could care less about. Minutes later, she made an excuse to go elsewhere but there was no other place in his mind than the study.

It was waiting. Food arrived in courses. Afsana and Liya lingered, curious, before vanishing again. I ate carefully, aware of his eyes flicking toward me between sips of wine. Never constant. Just enough to remind me that nothing I did went unseen. Finally, his voice cut through. “Tell me what else you bought.” I startled, knife clinking against porcelain. “Books.” His brow arched. “Books?” I nodded, firmer. “On color theory. Composition. Symbolism. And some novels.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Do you like to read? I blog about books, specifically horror and thriller books.” “Like Stephen King?” She nodded. “Stephen King, Dean Koontz, David W. Wright, Sean Platt, and, ah, Dan Wells.” He nodded slowly as she listed her favorite authors. “What about A. A. Abernathy?” Fuck! “You read Abernathy?” “Yeah, I just picked up the latest one. It’s pretty good so far.”

But cooking dinner every day with little to no money and living on a student loan was a totally different game. I quit school and decided to focus more on my cooking. Mila, my friend, whom I always see at the food shops and restaurants, taking pictures of food to boost her page, She found my cooking attractive the first time she came to my house, and I made a red sauce pasta for her. She clicked the camera and snapped every side of the meal, and just from there, I started to cook for her to take pictures. I also started watching a lot of cooking shows; my favorites were Top Chef and Master Chef Italy. I never missed turning on the television for this show at 12 p.m. and 5 p.m., respectively.

He asked questions—not the shallow kind Damon’s associates had used to make polite conversation, but real questions. “What’s your favorite book?” he asked at one point, leaning close to be heard over the music. She blinked, startled. “My book?” He smiled faintly. “Yeah. Everyone’s got one. The one they can read again and again and never get tired of.” Mya hesitated, then admitted, “Wuthering Heights. It’s… tragic and messy, but there’s something about the passion in it. The kind that consumes people.” Keith nodded thoughtfully. “I get that. Mine’s The Count of Monte Cristo. Revenge, redemption, justice—it’s a story that makes you think about what really matters when you lose everything.”