I really, really tried to read this book, but I just couldn't finish it. It's been recommended to me many times by people who know that I like to cook, I love to eat, and I've always kind of heroine-worshiped Julia Child (she's so wonderful!).
But I just couldn't get into this book. Here's why I think I couldn't finish it: I read it too late.
I only tried to read this book in the spring of 2010, fully five years after it was published. I think that, in the intervening time, I lost much of my tolerance for blogger snark.
See, this book was among the first of the blogs-to-books crowd, along with other blog-stars like Heather Armstrong of dooce.com. And one of the reasons that their blogs were so much fun to read was because they're snarky and funny. They make sharp social and personal critique using witty, snarky prose.
And I think I got fed up with it. I do read dooce.com, but I think that the blog's shorter format is built for snark, whereas in book form, the snark becomes just a little bit overwhelming. In short form, I can handle it, but in longer form, it is wearying.
And in short, that's why I couldn't finish this book: I came to it too late, jaded from reading too many of Julie Powell's blog-star brothers and sisters. My tolerance for snark has slowly diminished, to the point that I can only take it in five to eight paragraph blog posts. This is why I'll probably never read Heather Armstrong's published works either.
Perhaps one day I'll recover from the overdose, but that day has not yet arrived.