*** SPOILERS ALERT!! ***
I like to cook. Most of the time, I'm good with thinking up dinner
recipes - or finding ones in cookbooks, baking cakes, cookies, and
whatnot, and just creating things in the kitchen. Sometimes I need
motivation. When I started reading Julie Powell's book Julie and
Julia I felt very motivated. After reading the first chapter, I dug
out my cookbooks and planned meals for the next couple days. And I
really enjoyed cooking them.
Halfway through the book I realized that it was all pretty much the
same thing happening. Julie cooks Julia's recipes - they either
turn out well or they're garbage. She works her way through the
entire Mastering the Art of French Cooking book, eating things like
liver, duck, marrow, etc. She swears, she cries, her husband helps
her at times, she feeds friends and family, she writes on her blog
(which was a pretty new concept when she had started blogging). At
this halfway point, I realized that while Julie is "finding
herself" while cooking, it's also the same thing over and over
again. She cooks, they eat, she goes to her day job, people notice
her blog and she experiences a bit of fame.
After this point, I put the book down. I was bored. She cooked. She
wasn't a cleaner (maybe I'm a clean freak, but the thought of those
little black flies in my kitchen, and the part with the maggots
just didn't sit well with me - who lets their kitchen get that
way?). She was gaining weight because of the sheer amount of fat
used in the cooking. She didn't like her office job because it
wasn't helping her discover herself. Blah, blah, blah.
I started reading Julie and Julia at the beginning of November.
Now, at the beginning of December, after reading 4 other books,
I've finished reading it. I didn't feel enlightened after finishing
the book. In fact, I didn't even feel the urge to cook anymore.
Julie Powell is a decent writer, though she does stray from topic
to topic throughout the book. One thing would remind her of another
and she'd go off talking about something else. As a reader, I
didn't feel intrigued to get to the end of the book - I assumed
she'd work her way to the end of MtAoFC and discover herself. It
wasn't like reading a regular fiction book - there was no suspense,
no intrigue, no mystery. In fact, by the end of the book there were
a few endings (where Julie felt the need to write "The End".
Twice.) where I just thought to myself, "Finish it already!"
By the end of the book, Julie cooks her final dish well, but still
doesn't really know how to cook. I don't want to toot my own horn,
but I do find myself to be slightly more capable in the kitchen
which might be why I couldn't relate to Julie. When something goes
wrong, I'm not swearing. I don't let the dishes pile up for days.
Cooking is more therapeutic for me rather than a chore (which is
what the Julie/Julia Project seemed to be like for Julie). I'm not
the best cook in the world - in fact, far from it - but I manage.
After following a "how to" cookbook for a year I would think I'd be
better in the kitchen, just as I thought Julie would have turned
into a better chef than she was at the start of the book.
I'm very interested to watch the movie with Meryl Streep and Amy
Adams - perhaps it'll keep my interest more than the book did.
On another note, at the end of the book there is an excerpt from
Julie Powell's next book Cleaving: a Story of Marriage, Meat, and
Obsession. After reading bits of that excerpt, I noticed it was the
same kind of writing as in Julie and Julia and I really don't see
myself purchasing it. I'm not sure why, after writing a memoir
about food, Julie would write yet another memoir about food.
Instead of working her way through a cookbook, she's discovering
herself as a butcher. Wow. Maybe she's just trying to stretch out
those 15 minutes of fame.
I think I would give the book 2 stars out of 5. Now, we'll see how
the movie fares.