Julie and Julia


After having read Julia Child’s “My Life in France”, I had to read Julie Powell’s “Julie and Julia” as a sort of spin-off/sequel.  I love the idea of the Julie/Julia project, Powell’s commitment to cooking ALL the recipes in Julia Child’s “Mastering the Art of French Cooking” in one year.  I didn’t get to follow the blog while it was going on, seeing that I was late in the game.  The book is more or less an abridged version, complete with character buildup and story arc.  It’s almost like being there.

At first, I was put off by the casualness of her writing, the flippancy being more appropriate for day to day entries than a 300 page book, but I grew to appreciate her moxie.  The anachronistic insertions of faux-Julia Child tableaux were awkward, and probably unnecessary.  Overall, I liked the vividness of her life, or more so, how her life became vivid through cooking.  The scenes seem to change in my mind from the black and white secretarial day job hours to full Technicolor in her kitchen while she cooks.  With every project comes new intrigue met with triumph or catastrophe, and I rooted for her at every turn.  The loveliest parts of the book show the camaraderie and support of her family, friends and “bleaders”.  Much like Julia Child’s “My Life in France”, Julie finds herself and a passion in her unsatisfying life.


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