I want to hang out with Julie Powell. I'd enjoy sitting and watching Buffy with her sure-to-be witty commentary, while waiting for some luscious dessert to bake. I could pass on the entrees, though. French main dishes apparently aren't my thing.
Julie and Julia is Powell's chronicle of cooking her way through Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking. It's very funny, very light-hearted, and very likable. Some of the oh-no-I'm-30 moments resonated a little too much with me, but Powell never sits and feels sorry for herself (she cooks, of course). Really, even her self-deprecating humor isn't wallowing; Powell has too firm a grasp on reality for that.
It's rare for me to have a Holden moment and want to call and author up and talk, but Julie and Julia makes me want to do just that. Powell comes across as a regular human who happened to have an idea and happened to have the skill and humor to write about it. Is it stalkerish to say I wish her all the best?
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