
Let me preface this by saying I have a bad taste in my mouth from Julie Powell. From years ago, when she slammed bloggers left, right, and center. Quickly forgetting that blogging, as part of her ode to Julia Child, was how she struck her own claim to fame.
And on that basis, I had little to no interest in reading anything she had to write.
But I’d like to think I can have a (somewhat) open mind. When Julie & Julia was published, my sister bought it for me. And I read it. Mostly because I adore Julia Child and all her unapologetic but brilliant ways. And I loved the Julia Child sections of the book, as I knew I would.
And when the movie came out, I went to go see it, again loving the Julia Child parts.
A few weeks ago, I was at our local used book store, and happened to see a copy of Julie Powell’s second book, Cleaving: A Story of Marriage, Meat, and Obsession. And for a whopping two bucks, I decided to give her another chance.
It was, in a word, insufferable.
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