CURSED BREAD

A baker's widow processes grief, obsession, and desire for the enigmatic couple who may have caused a townwide poisoning.

Elodie spends her days kneading loaves, selling bread to the members of her insular French village, and washing clothes in the communal lavoir. Her husband is obsessed with creating the perfect loaf of bread, and she tries unsuccessfully to rekindle their old spark. “I can admit that in those days I was sometimes jealous of the dough my husband put his hands into, worked so tenderly and tirelessly with, up to the elbows,” Elodie recalls. The baker and his wife may always have fresh food at hand, but Elodie is starved for affection. When an American ambassador and his glamorous wife, Violet, arrive to great fanfare, Elodie is unexpectedly enraptured by them both. At the couple's housewarming party, Elodie overhears the ambassador warn Violet away from the food. “If you eat the bread, you’ll die, he said, and it sounded more like a caress than a threat.” So begins a hallucinogenic fairy tale, based on a real-life mass poisoning, in which the lines between Elodie's desire for Violet and her desire for Violet’s life warp and blur. Mackintosh alternates between Elodie's memories of Violet's arrival and her letters to Violet, which reveal the darkness, longing, and abjection that have consumed Elodie in the year after the tragedy. The effect is jittery and destabilizing, heightening the horrors of mass death—and intimate cruelty—when they finally arrive. “I have been the most myself in these moments of shame, drawn inexorably down into myself, everything in my body in alignment,” Elodie writes to Violet. “What I am trying to tell you is that when you finally get your face into the dirt, it can feel like a relief.”

Propelled by Mackintosh's singular lyricism, this strange, unsettling novel—enigmatic to the last—never quite coheres.