ex(PR)essed

So the same day that I blogged about the book “Julie and Juila”, I saw the movie. I had high expectations for the movie. Several people had told me that it was a cute, and a frigid, sniffly Saturday night seemed like the perfect time to watch a fun movie with my husband.

About three-quarters of the way through, Jeff and I both wondered aloud if the movie was close to over. Bad sign.

The movie really wasn’t similar to the book at all, which made me wonder if I’m just far too literal to enjoy movies based on books. I did enjoy the portions of the movie devoted to Julia Child much more than the brief sections of the book about the legendary chef. But, I still didn’t like the Julie character at all, and it’s not even like she was similar to the Juile in the book. The Juile of the movie was b-o-r-i-n-g. Actually, I guess I found the whole movie a bit on the snoozy side.

Oh well. Not every film can be as complete and wonderful as the A&E version of “Pride and Prejudice!”

I’m reading “Gone with the Wind” now. Given what you know about me, do you think I should see the movie too?

Jeff bought me the book “Julie and Julia” for Christmas. It was a nice surprise. The book wasn’t on my reading list, but it was on my “movies-to-see” list, and since the rate at which we watch movies is ridiculous (we haven’t been to the theater since “Charlie Wilson’s War”), he probably thought I would be more likely to read the book. He was right.

Shortly after Christmas, I finally gave myself permission to put “Eat, Pray, Love” back on the shelf — unfinished. I just couldn’t get into that book. I liked Elizabeth Gilbert’s writing style, but the whole idea of leaving behind real life to travel around the world was beyond my comprehension. I just couldn’t embrace the character, and, in my old age, I’ve started giving myself permission to abandon books in the middle. (Go me!)

So, “Julie and Julia” was ok. Yep, that’s about all the enthusiasm I can muster for this book. The book is a memoir, written by Julie Powell who spent a year working her way through all the recipes in Julia Child’s “Mastering the Art of French Cooking.” So, the author is obviously the main character, and I really didn’t like her. She was rude and brash; foul-mouthed and grumpy. But, the book was written in such a way that it definitely held my attention. I found myself easily reading 30 or so pages at a time before bed, an accomplishment for someone who usually nods off before getting to the table of contents in a magazine!

Yet, I felt no attachment to this book or its story. I really didn’t care whether Julie completed her mission or not. But,  I was interested in the cooking aspect of the plot — the moments spent in the kitchen doing any number of hideous things that I would never even dream of to chickens, cows, and ducks.

All in all, I still hope to see the movie (I have it in my possession even as I type this), but I will be adding this book to my donate pile.