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.

Backstory: This memoir was recommended to me by a loyal blog reader and good friend.  She’s a bit of an Anglophile, so I immediately knew why this book appealed to her.  She’s also a smart girl with great taste, though, so I figured I was in for a fun read. 

One-Sentence Plot Summary: Stuck in Colorado with her hippie parents, Jerramy Fine has fantasized about being a real princess for as long as she can remember, and she works her way to England to try to make her dream come true–kissing the requisite number of frogs along the way.

Review: This book is both hilarious and ridiculous.  Fine begins her memoir by her discovery at age six of Peter Mark Andrew Phillips, a member of the Windsor family about her age, whom she proceeds to fixate on for the next 300 pages and 20-odd years of her life.  Every life move is designed to get her closer to her goal, from her choice of college, to her study abroad program, and her eventual (inevitable) relocation to England.  Reading the book takes a certain amount of acceptance.  When I first started reading, I wanted to find this girl, shake her, and yell, “SERIOUSLY????  You need a mental health evaluation!”  But if you can get over that and approach the story with a light heart and an open mind, you’ll be thoroughly entertained by Fine’s attempts to weasel her way into the upper echelons of British society.  Her writing is clever and readable; you’ll get sucked in quickly. 

The only significant problem with this book is perhaps an inherent problem with memoirs: life is messy.  What I mean is that a novel imbues every moment with significance and is able to resolve situations with a neat bow where appropriate and leave dramatic cliffhangers in other moments.  A memoir is necessarily limited, however, by what actually happened, and sometimes things don’t work out the way a reader, or author, would wish.  So there were several key moments in the book when I thought, “Aha!  Things are coming together,” only to have them unravel again.  But when I reminded myself of the genre, it actually made Fine far more relatable than the fictional heroines for whom everything works out perfectly.  On a more minor note, the numerous footnotes, most of which contained fairly obvious information, were annoying, though largely ignorable.

Conclusion: An amusing (if slightly odd) quick read.  It must be said, though; it’s the rare man who would appreciate it.

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

NB: You can find out more about the book and author at Fine’s blog.