Tell Me About a Complicated Man

It’s not too late to join our guided read-along of The Odyssey, which includes an exclusive bonus episode and private chat space for participants.

This is not going to be an essay comparing Anthony Bourdain to Odysseus (the title of this piece comes from the opening line of Emily Wilson’s translation of The Odyssey), but the fact that it could be is pretty remarkable.

Both are deeply concerned with hospitality. Both are swaggering yet sensitive (boy, does Odysseus weep a lot!). Both are trying to resist the siren songs of sex and booze and machismo (and actual sirens!) in order to get back to the only place they feel at home.

Are you a high school student looking for a creative angle on your paper about masculinity in Homer? Here you go!

When I picked up Kitchen Confidential in the middle of reading The Odyssey, it was simply because they were the next two books on the podcast schedule, but the calendar gods knew what they were doing. We talk often on the show about how one of the most compelling reasons to read the great books is so that you can discover the ways they speak to each other. I know this. I just didn’t expect it to happen with this particular pairing.

Kitchen Confidential is important because it launched modern food culture and gave the world Anthony Bourdain’s singular voice. It’s one of the great books because it’s about things that are bigger than its stated subject: connection, character, respect for other cultures, caring for the people around us. Yes, it is swashbuckling and swear-laden, but it also about some of the biggest questions art asks: What is the good life? What do I owe my neighbor? (Who is my neighbor?) Is this all there is? What else might there be?

In the early years of the Kitchen Confidential era, Bourdain seemed confident about the answers. “Your body is not a temple, it's an amusement park. Enjoy the ride.” His was a philosophy of curiosity and appetite. Epicurean, certainly. Hedonistic, perhaps. The bluster should have made him insufferable, but he cut it with awareness of his position, his luck, his duty to advocate for the people—mostly immigrants—who made the whole restaurant thing possible.

I don’t know how Kitchen Confidential lands if you read it for the first time now, knowing where Bourdain’s success took him and how his life ended. The unhinged moments may have a darker edge, but the profoundly human hunger for experience, safety, and meaning only become more significant.

Of the dozens of books we’ve discussed on Zero to Well-Read, many have changed the way I think and shaped how I see the world, but I’m hard pressed to point to one that has had more tangible impact on how I live my life. When I set out for parts unknown or sit down for a meal with strangers, it’s his wisdom I call on.

“No Reservations” (the title of his breakout TV show) wasn’t just a clever pun; it was an invitation to go boldly and an instruction to give graciously and receive gratefully. It was good advice in the ancient world, and it’s good advice now, whether you’re crossing oceans on an adventure or sitting down at an unfamiliar table.