day 12 of the 30 day book challenge

Day 12. A book you used to love but don’t anymore

When I first read "Julie & Julia," I loved the sassy feel of the narrator. I envied her idea & the success of her project. As a blogging hopeful & lover of French cuisine, I wanted so badly to relate to her. I could easily put myself in her place throughout the story–the frustrations, the hopes, the determination.

What I couldn't quite get on board with was the author herself. I must confess that I am again putting the author in the way of my reading. There was too much buzz, too many things outside of the novel interfering with my reading. I read it in a creative nonfiction class when the movie was getting ready to come out. We were ignoring the film & trying to ignore interviews with Julie Powell, the title "character" & author who sets out to cook her way through "Mastering the Art of French Cooking."

Powell's Books has this publishers note posted about the book:

At first she thinks it will be easy. But as she moves from the simple Potage Parmentier (potato soup) into the more complicated realm of aspics and crepes, she realizes there's more to Mastering the Art of French Cooking than meets the eye. With Julia's stern warble always in her ear, Julie haunts the local butcher, buying kidneys and sweetbreads. She sends her husband on late-night runs for yet more butter and rarely serves dinner before midnight. She discovers how to mold the perfect Orange Bavarian, the trick to extracting marrow from bone, and the intense pleasure of eating liver.

And somewhere along the line she realizes she has turned her kitchen into a miracle of creation and cuisine. She has eclipsed her life's ordinariness through spectacular humor, hysteria, and perseverance.

Sounds like I should love it, right? And I did on the first read. I was inspired & excited & laughing at the biting comments Powell made–often criticizing herself.

Then I picked up the book a few month later. Something about the tone seemed artificial, hurried, insincere. If there is one thing that kills a novel for me, it is insincerity. I felt removed from the book on a second read, & I actually only sat through a few pages before putting back on the shelf, permanently retired. I'm not sure what's to blame–fresh eyes on the writing style? my frame of mind at the time (closer to my wedding & more mentally in need of happy love stories)? (unfairly passed) judgment of Powell, based on the premise of her second book?

Whatever the case, I still prefer the book to the film version, which made Powell to sweet & lovable (& cast Amy Adams as Powell for some unknown reason). I'm not even sure she meant for us to love her in "Julie & Julia"–it was enough that we related to her in her small successes & failures of daily life, whether surviving another day of marriage or making a three-course French dinner. This sentiment I still appreciate & feel she captured well, & for this reason I would still suggest it as a light read for friends interested in memoir styles, French cooking or Julia Child.

Are there books you have fallen out of love with? I hope not, as it feels worse than any breakup I've experienced. The poor, neglected things just sit there on the shelf, reminding you that you hate them.