Cleaving by Julie Powell

This memoir confirms the niggling sense I got from Julie and Julia, namely, that Julie Powell has a selfish streak a mile wide and an overinflated sense of her self-importance. I found the parts about the craft of butchering really intriguing, I was pleased to find recipes in the book, and I even enjoyed most of the parts about traveling. Unfortunately, the narrator's character in this book is utterly irredeemable. I don't necessarily mean as a person, although she consistently shows no respect for her husband, her on-again, off-again boyfriend, or even herself (while she is justifiably proud of her butchering and cooking skills, I don't think someone who likes herself could treat one, much less two, men with such cruelty). Instead, while the book, I think, is striving to show how Julie learns to live with herself, flawed and all, Julie doesn't experience any growth as a character. I can't say that I'm disappointed, because my expectations weren't high to begin with, but neither can I recommend this book.