One-Sentence Plot Summary: Julie Powell’s second memoir, which starts several years after her first book stopped, chronicles her affair, the (partial?) demise of her marriage, and her apprenticeship with a butcher and subsequent meat-related travels.

Review: Julie Powell is not Amy Adams.  Julie Powell is not Amy Adams.  I had to repeat this sentence to myself over and over as I read the book, even though I knew this to be true already from reading Julie and Julia, which is significantly more sarcastic and profanity-laden than the movie.  If you never read the first book, you’re in for a shock, so ready yourself.

Cleaving is graphic.  Powell describes her butchering experience in occasionally mind-numbing levels of detail, telling the reader exactly how you break down the shoulder of a cow, make head cheese, and slaughter a pig, among other horrors or wonders, depending on your perspective.  And she is no less reticent in relating the graphic sexual details of her affair with a man she refers to as D–as well as the men she sleeps with afterwards to try to forget him.  As practically every review of this book has noted, the world now knows of Powell’s predilection for S&M.

What makes the book most difficult to read, however, is Powell’s obsessive and juvenile behavior following the affair.  We’ve all drunkenly texted or emailed an ex, but past the age of 16, most of us refrain from crossing a certain line, beyond which lies stalker-land.  The knowledge that this is a memoir, not a novel, that Powell really sent those text messages, left those voicemails, and wrote those emails, arouses a generous reader’s pity and a less tolerant reader’s contempt.

If you can wade through the emotional angst, however, the account of Powell’s time at Fleisher’s butcher shop is extremely enjoyable.  The employees there are well-drawn, and the bawdy banter is amusing.  Though her travels do feel a bit tangential, her condensed meat tour of the world is generally interesting.  Unfortunately, the highlights of the book are frequently buried beneath the pile of drama and, as a more minor complaint, an absurdly high number of references to Buffy the Vampire Slayer (the TV show, not the movie).

Conclusion: If you like meat or self-destruction, you’ll enjoy this book.  If you’re squeamish about food or sex, I’d steer clear.

Available at: Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Powell’s.  Also available in Sony eBook, Kindle, and nook formats.

NB: Read more of Julie Powell’s thoughts on her blog.