Tag Archives: Anthony Bourdain

Remembering Anthony Bourdain Pt II

Last night I fell asleep to the sound of Anthony Bourdain’s voice. He did not appear as an apparition.

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“fish”, lol

I realize what I’m about to say may sound blasphemous to many of you, but I sometimes forgo handheld books for audiobooks. The reason being, I’m busy as hell, and it helps me fall asleep 99% of the time. This habit started a little over a year ago when I started commuting across the longest bridge in the world.

I know what you’re thinking…that’s one expensive habit. FYI, you can rent audiobooks for free if you have a library card.

The point though, is that Anthony Bourdain’s Medium Raw is read by the author himself, and it is pretty damn phenomenal. There are many poignant parts about his feelings on suicide, which are both intriguing and hard to listen to now. It’s quite a window into his motivations.

For instance, near the beginning of the book, he says that when he got his first show and stopped working day-to-day, his life descended into chaos. You can also tell he is hyper aware of his privilege by the way he often calls himself out or glazes over these moments, detracting from his own pain and experience, but they’re still there.

I guess I recognize some of myself in Bourdain’s autobiography. Mainly these moments of complete self destruction and moments when he, despite his better judgement, goes along with questionable people and situations because he is bored of his life and monotony.

What I find interesting though is how often in interviews and in the book he lives on this edge of craving routine and also detesting it. It seems like no matter what he does, including travelling the world with a TV show, he eventually becomes numb to any moment of pleasure. Of course, this is exactly how depression works, and, once someone has it, their chances of relapsing skyrocket.

I had a strange moment last night where I thought, maybe there is something to that whole positive attitude thing. Although, for the most part, I believe depression to be both chemical and situational, which takes more than merely redirecting your thoughts to come out from under. Bourdain was very candid in his books and sometimes in his shows, but he clearly, and often, redirected his suicidal thoughts in front of others almost as quickly as they appeared.

One thing that stuck out in the book is just how frequently he played with death. In most of his anecdotes, it’s always at the edge, if not the forefront of his thoughts. In chapter two, we learn that he regularly let the next song on the radio determine whether or not he drove off of a cliff while living in the caribbean. Listening to this, I wondered how Anthony Bourdain ever made it to 61 years old. To say that he had a death wish was to put it mildly.

Still, his writing as a whole and descriptions are incredible. I am now convinced that he could have lived another life as a successful fiction novelist. Until last night, I seemed to have forgotten all about the explosive memoir that pushed him into the limelight in the first place, Kitchen Confidential (2000), which he discusses in Medium Raw (2010).

You can bet he used this follow up as an opportunity to go in on the Food Network and celebrity chefs once more. But, as we now know, the Food Network actually gave Bourdain his big break with the show No Reservations. Eventually though, he recognizes himself as a sellout. To make matters worse, they pull his show after realizing that audiences will eat up dumbed-down, buzzfeed-style TV features. This is a big point of contention for him in the book, particularly the way the network begins using anti-immigrant, anti-poc, anti-diversity language in reference to his show.

Where most people might move on from something like this fairly quickly, I get an overwhelming sense of hopelessness from Bourdain, even now, as he recalls something from his past. It’s like every moment, every event, every interaction in his life left a lasting mark. Hearing his voice through my headphones as I writhe around in sleep is both soothing and unsettling. 

I could probably write my own book about this, but, alas, I must go. However, if you’re a fan of Anthony Bourdain and want more insight into this recent tragedy and into who he was, I recommend starting at the source.

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Remembering Anthony Bourdain

At 7:17 AM Friday morning, I woke up to find a heartbreaking text waiting for me.

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I later told my friend that the news wasn’t surprising given his former heroin addiction and open dialogue about his struggle with depression and suicide. I’d witnessed him speak on this over the years in episodes of No Reservations and Parts Unknown. But this automatic retort was a lie. Despite his history, the news still shook me.

For one, you spend your entire life working for the things Anthony Bourdain has: an extremely successful career that allows you to travel across the world, wealth, fame, love—all on your own terms—and it still doesn’t fix the underlying problems that accompany depression and other mental health issues many of us struggle with.

Whatever he was going through, he deserves recognition for his accomplishments and his game-changing impact on the culinary arts and reality television.

If you watch some of his older shows, you might laugh because the foods he was trying and the places he visited, that seem so normal now, were still taboo for many Americans at the time.

I don’t care much for cooking shows, but I loved everything about Bourdain from the moment I saw an episode of No Reservations in college. He was, as the show’s title implies, an absolutely fearless, punk-rock, barebones traveling chef who went where high-brow chefs refused to and who could care less about these same opinions on food or his approach to food.

And yet, he spent so much time advocating. For people of color. For women. For rape survivors. For addicts. He was outspoken about all of these things. Much of the show (both NR and Parts Unknown) is dedicated to watching other people cook as well as learning and highlighting their techniques.

He never intruded in these spaces while he was there, rather he carved out a voice and a space for these individuals. That was the heart of his shows.

It’s incredibly hard to picture someone as fierce, loved, and wildly successful as Bourdain ending his own life.  Although he always spoke of depression and addiction as though he’d overcome them, there is no denying that this came up often enough in his shows to send up red flags. But there were also incredible moments of joy and laughter in the exchange of food and culture throughout every episode.

I’ve since talked to several friends about Anthony Bourdain, and he meant something different to all of us. A talented writer. An advocate. A bold voice that went against mainstream food critics. A cool guy. A tour guide in the bowls of unknown spaces. There’s no denying the fact that he touched people’s lives in a positive way…and under all that was still a man battling for his life.

I don’t pretend to know what drove him to this, but I think it was always this brokenness just under the surface in him that always resonated with me. Maybe it was what allowed him to be so different, relatable, and fearless. There is nothing glorious about suicide, which Bourdain himself admitted is a selfish, stupid act in past interviews. I don’t think anyone is in a place to judge why another does something this extreme. However, I think that Anthony Bourdain still deserves to be remembered for all he has done and for what he meant to others. I know I won’t be the only one who misses him.