This book, which details the writing of a blog about the experiment of attempting to cook all the recipes in Julia Child’s “Mastering the Art of French Cooking”, is one that I am glad that I read, but I am also glad that I am done. The author of both the book and the blog, Julie Powell, is a directionless secretary working in New York and living with her husband, Eric. Her life, as she describes it, is hopeless and depressing. There is a shrewishness about Julie that makes me wonder what her husband sees in her. I suppose there is a very real possibility that Eric is also a major jerk, and Julie just didn’t write about that. She does seem somewhat self-involved. I did enjoy the descriptions of Julie trying to cook her way through this tome of a cookbook, but the whiny filler in between, I could have done without. I have always suspected that professional chefs make really difficult things look easier than they are, so Julie’s struggles and subsequent successes and failures were very reassuring to me. And I did feel sympathy for our heroine when she discovered, right at the end of her year-long odyssey, that her hero, Julia Child, had no appreciation whatsoever, for her year of hard work. But, I must admit, that was one of the very few instances when I felt the likability of Julie Powell. When all is said and done, if I had to choose between Julie and Julia as someone to spend time with, I would choose Julia, hands down. Sorry, Julie.
I give this book 2.5 out of 5 bookmarks.
Reviewed by: Anna
