It goes against my nature to critique a book when I know how much of ones' soul is poured into producing a manuscript, but I can't restrain myself. Julie & Julia by Julie Powell left me less than fulfilled. The premise had great promise, but the execution failed on so many points that it is difficult to know where to begin.
First of all, the main character is less than lovable; a whiny, foul mouth, cigarette smoking and hard drinking woman from Austin. She stinks, yes stinks, at relationships, housekeeping and acting. She has a secretarial job for the 911 memorial/family support organization, which she continually ridicules. This is not funny to me. It's like joking about all the people who died in WWII. If this story is truly based on the author's life, I feel sorry for her husband.
It is only near the end of the book when one discovers that Julie had prior cooking experience and was not a neophyte jumping into the world of recipes. It really destroyed the premise of the book. The most revealing issue was that Julia Child did not like the blog and what Julie was attempting. I don't know why the book was made into a movie, but I certainly hope they upgraded the script. Do I sound a little disappointed? Well, I am. The opportunity to make this one of the most clever and endearing books of all times was just not fulfilled.
One summer, I decided to cook my way through the Cordon Bleu Cookbook and only got as far as the onion soup. I stopped there because I didn't like kidneys, brains, cauliflower, etc. and I felt that onion soup was about the world's most perfect food. Besides, it doesn't fill one up too much to enjoy lots of chocolate desserts. I stopped on a high note. I just wished Julie Powell had, too.