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addlebrained_reader's reviews
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Julie and Julia: 365 Days, 524 Recipes, 1 Tiny Apartment Kitchen by Julie Powell
5.0
Oh. My. God. This was easily one of THE best books I have ever read! Who knew that hidden among the writings on food books was a gem of this caliber and magnificence.
Julie Powell was like many failed actresses who had moved to New York before her…stuck in a dead end job. She was unhappy in her secretarial work for some government agency as are many people who labor at such menial occupations.
On the cusp of her 30th birthday, Julie recognized the trivial existence she had been inhabiting and determined that she needed some purpose in life. She was beckoned to what would be become her Bible for the next year…Mastering the Art of French Cooking by Julia Child. Julie resolved to cook her way through this intimidating collection of recipes within one year. Not only did she take on this daunting task, she decided to blog about her experience, which resulted in a group of followers, several interviews, and an eventual book deal.
What follows the introduction into the premise is 300 astonishing pages of anger, pain, laughter, frustration, adoration, and…butter. Julie deliciously (and sometimes disgustingly) describes, in detail, her journey into the foray of French cooking. We are thrilled with her when she accomplishes tasks such as bone marrow scraping and crepe flipping. We are aggravated alongside her through the poaching of eggs and the ever elusive task of mayonnaise making. We are enraptured with tart-a-palooza and squirm our way through aspics. We are even with her when she attempts culinary seduction by way of pecan spice cake with pecan icing.
Not only is there are relationship built with Julie but through her, and the apartments in her brain pan, we come to know Julia Child as a culinary genius and one Hell of a woman. I was even saddened when in the final pages of the book I learned that Julia Child died on the eve of her 92nd birthday.
This book is not strictly about food, though that is the central theme, but is also about people. We get to know Sally and are somewhat creeped out by the David’s, we worry over Isabel’s life altering choices, and enjoy Gwen’s sexy IM romance. We are thankful for husband’s as supportive and composed as Eric and wish Julie’s mother would just calm down. What is there to say about Heathcliff other than…that’s Heathcliff.
What can I say to express the sheer pleasure and delight that filled me with each turn of the page? I laughed, I cried, and I toiled. This book is inspirational to say the least. I was ravenous through the majority of its duration and my cravings would change as we grew deeper into the cookbook, beginning with potato soup and ending with a stuffed, pastry-wrapped duck. I found myself overflowing with the hunger to cook. I kept walking to my kitchen bookshelf to find and flip through my copy of Julia Child’s The Way to Cook. Not only have I found myself wanting to create culinary masterpieces, I also was inspired to write. Julie Powell’s voice is blunt, brutal, and honest. She has no qualms about using the word fuck whenever she sees fit, and sometimes even if it doesn’t fit. She does not sugar coat her life to make it seem more desirable. She offers the reader nothing other than her self and her life. Take her as she as or do not take her at all…and balls to you if you don’t like her!
All in all, this was quite a delectable read. I recommend it to anyone who wants a good laugh and or if you simply want an uplifting, yet down and dirty read. I cannot wait to see what Julie comes out with next. Bon Appetite!!!
Julie Powell was like many failed actresses who had moved to New York before her…stuck in a dead end job. She was unhappy in her secretarial work for some government agency as are many people who labor at such menial occupations.
On the cusp of her 30th birthday, Julie recognized the trivial existence she had been inhabiting and determined that she needed some purpose in life. She was beckoned to what would be become her Bible for the next year…Mastering the Art of French Cooking by Julia Child. Julie resolved to cook her way through this intimidating collection of recipes within one year. Not only did she take on this daunting task, she decided to blog about her experience, which resulted in a group of followers, several interviews, and an eventual book deal.
What follows the introduction into the premise is 300 astonishing pages of anger, pain, laughter, frustration, adoration, and…butter. Julie deliciously (and sometimes disgustingly) describes, in detail, her journey into the foray of French cooking. We are thrilled with her when she accomplishes tasks such as bone marrow scraping and crepe flipping. We are aggravated alongside her through the poaching of eggs and the ever elusive task of mayonnaise making. We are enraptured with tart-a-palooza and squirm our way through aspics. We are even with her when she attempts culinary seduction by way of pecan spice cake with pecan icing.
Not only is there are relationship built with Julie but through her, and the apartments in her brain pan, we come to know Julia Child as a culinary genius and one Hell of a woman. I was even saddened when in the final pages of the book I learned that Julia Child died on the eve of her 92nd birthday.
This book is not strictly about food, though that is the central theme, but is also about people. We get to know Sally and are somewhat creeped out by the David’s, we worry over Isabel’s life altering choices, and enjoy Gwen’s sexy IM romance. We are thankful for husband’s as supportive and composed as Eric and wish Julie’s mother would just calm down. What is there to say about Heathcliff other than…that’s Heathcliff.
What can I say to express the sheer pleasure and delight that filled me with each turn of the page? I laughed, I cried, and I toiled. This book is inspirational to say the least. I was ravenous through the majority of its duration and my cravings would change as we grew deeper into the cookbook, beginning with potato soup and ending with a stuffed, pastry-wrapped duck. I found myself overflowing with the hunger to cook. I kept walking to my kitchen bookshelf to find and flip through my copy of Julia Child’s The Way to Cook. Not only have I found myself wanting to create culinary masterpieces, I also was inspired to write. Julie Powell’s voice is blunt, brutal, and honest. She has no qualms about using the word fuck whenever she sees fit, and sometimes even if it doesn’t fit. She does not sugar coat her life to make it seem more desirable. She offers the reader nothing other than her self and her life. Take her as she as or do not take her at all…and balls to you if you don’t like her!
All in all, this was quite a delectable read. I recommend it to anyone who wants a good laugh and or if you simply want an uplifting, yet down and dirty read. I cannot wait to see what Julie comes out with next. Bon Appetite!!!
Wild Mind: Living the Writer's Life by Natalie Goldberg
4.0
A few weeks ago I posted a blog on my livejournal and myspace pages about how I was in the mood to write…which a rare occurrence for me. A friend suggested I read a book called “Wild Mind” by Natalie Goldberg. Naturally, me being the book addict I am, automatically flipped to bn.com to research this title. I found out that the book was about ‘living the writer’s life” and included tips and practice techniques for writing. I purchased the book within a week.
I love books…I love going to bookstores and walking through the aisles. I love the smells, textures, colors, and feelings that accompany a trip to a bookstore. This book, however, I ordered online. There is a feeling of anticipation and excitement that transpires as soon as I click the submit button and I receive the confirmation e-mail. I tend to check the mail everyday hoping the package of goodies will arrive. When this book finally came, because waiting three days for a book is an eternity for me, I opened it and started reading immediately.
As I began reading this book, I quickly found sentences and passages that inspired me. Natalie details bits and pieces of her life, her past, her discovery of writing, and her journey through her first novel.
This book came to me empty of human touch. Yes, it contained human words and emotions, but it had not been handled. The book was a front and back cover, pages, numbers, letters, words, black and white type. My copy has now felt the stroke of human fingers along its pages. My copy is now full of color. Yellow highlights caress the sentences and neon pink post-its hug the pages. My copy has learned what it means to feel.
I’m not sure this book inspired me to write. In a way it did and in a way it didn’t. I think about the act of writing. The idea is in the back of my mind…I just haven’t picked up my notebook and started moving my hand across the page yet.
This book was not a waste though. It may not have inspired me to write, but it did reiterate my love for literature and the written word. At one point Natalie compares literature to a symphony. Each letter is a musical note, each word a chord, every sentence is a musical piece, every paragraph a different instrument. The syntax, alliteration, every piece of a passage crashes and booms, every line sings. This was my favorite concept in the entire book. The written word is just as beautiful as an orchestra, the reader just needs to listen to the melody and appreciate the passion of the piece.
Not only did I rediscover my love of reading, I found a building, burning desire to run. I used to run in high school. Not track or anything. But my favorite time in gym was when we would go running through different neighborhoods, or even the school track. When Otty was deployed for four months, I began running again. I find a special freedom and peace when I run. Natalie found this as well. She tells the reader about the desire to run, the feelings of inability, and finally the freedom that is gained from running like an animal.
I find this a little funny as well. Reading this book seemed to reinforce some of the ideas I have been having for a while. For months I have been considering taking up meditating. I would like to find an inner peace. Natalie relates her experiences with Zen practice and meditation. She describes the connectedness that accompanies a Zen state of mind. I definitely want to read into this practice.
The last thing I gained from this book (for now) is a longing for creativity. I may not be a writer or an artist, but within the last year I have taken up drawing again after a ten year hiatus. I am motivated to continue these creative endeavors and to expand on my abilities. Maybe one day I will consider myself an artist, but for now I just aspire to be decent.
I do not find myself thinking or yearning to be a writer. I do not wish to write a book or poetry…although that would be kind of cool. I am not unhappy in my life without writing. Maybe if I use the writing practices Natalie suggests I will one day discover an idea buried deep within my imagination that will transform into a world and a tale that I can lead other’s through. Until then…I will travel through the realms that are created by another author’s mind and live within the music performed by these literary composers…
I love books…I love going to bookstores and walking through the aisles. I love the smells, textures, colors, and feelings that accompany a trip to a bookstore. This book, however, I ordered online. There is a feeling of anticipation and excitement that transpires as soon as I click the submit button and I receive the confirmation e-mail. I tend to check the mail everyday hoping the package of goodies will arrive. When this book finally came, because waiting three days for a book is an eternity for me, I opened it and started reading immediately.
As I began reading this book, I quickly found sentences and passages that inspired me. Natalie details bits and pieces of her life, her past, her discovery of writing, and her journey through her first novel.
This book came to me empty of human touch. Yes, it contained human words and emotions, but it had not been handled. The book was a front and back cover, pages, numbers, letters, words, black and white type. My copy has now felt the stroke of human fingers along its pages. My copy is now full of color. Yellow highlights caress the sentences and neon pink post-its hug the pages. My copy has learned what it means to feel.
I’m not sure this book inspired me to write. In a way it did and in a way it didn’t. I think about the act of writing. The idea is in the back of my mind…I just haven’t picked up my notebook and started moving my hand across the page yet.
This book was not a waste though. It may not have inspired me to write, but it did reiterate my love for literature and the written word. At one point Natalie compares literature to a symphony. Each letter is a musical note, each word a chord, every sentence is a musical piece, every paragraph a different instrument. The syntax, alliteration, every piece of a passage crashes and booms, every line sings. This was my favorite concept in the entire book. The written word is just as beautiful as an orchestra, the reader just needs to listen to the melody and appreciate the passion of the piece.
Not only did I rediscover my love of reading, I found a building, burning desire to run. I used to run in high school. Not track or anything. But my favorite time in gym was when we would go running through different neighborhoods, or even the school track. When Otty was deployed for four months, I began running again. I find a special freedom and peace when I run. Natalie found this as well. She tells the reader about the desire to run, the feelings of inability, and finally the freedom that is gained from running like an animal.
I find this a little funny as well. Reading this book seemed to reinforce some of the ideas I have been having for a while. For months I have been considering taking up meditating. I would like to find an inner peace. Natalie relates her experiences with Zen practice and meditation. She describes the connectedness that accompanies a Zen state of mind. I definitely want to read into this practice.
The last thing I gained from this book (for now) is a longing for creativity. I may not be a writer or an artist, but within the last year I have taken up drawing again after a ten year hiatus. I am motivated to continue these creative endeavors and to expand on my abilities. Maybe one day I will consider myself an artist, but for now I just aspire to be decent.
I do not find myself thinking or yearning to be a writer. I do not wish to write a book or poetry…although that would be kind of cool. I am not unhappy in my life without writing. Maybe if I use the writing practices Natalie suggests I will one day discover an idea buried deep within my imagination that will transform into a world and a tale that I can lead other’s through. Until then…I will travel through the realms that are created by another author’s mind and live within the music performed by these literary composers…
Hell House by Richard Matheson
5.0
“Welcome to my house, I’m delighted you could come. I am certain you will find your stay here most illuminating. It is regrettable I cannot be with you, but I had to leave before your arrival. Do not let my physical absence disturb you, however. Think of me as your unseen host and believe that, during your stay here, I shall be with you in spirit.” ~ Emeric Belasco
Belasco House…Hell House…within these dark passages and cavernous rooms resides the residue of pure, unadulterated evil.
This book begins with the new owner of Belasco House assembling a crew to determine what, if anything, haunts this tomb-like mansion. The crew consists of Dr. Lionel Barrett (a scientist), his wife Edith, Benjamin Franklin Fischer (a physical medium whom had experienced the house previously), and Florence Tanner (a mental medium with a profound religious faith). We accompany the group on the third attempt to discover the source of ghostly disturbances within the house. The first two attempts resulted in the murder, suicide, or mental deterioration of the investigators involved…all those except Fischer that is.
Our introduction to the House is through brief glimpses as the thick, eerie fog surrounding the mansion and Bastard Bog clears. The tour through the house leaves us chilled to the bone. As we walk room to room, corridor to corridor, the foreboding feelings steadily increase. These walls have witnessed all manner of unspeakable events.
The House is dark and angry and soon begins its attack on its unwelcome guests. The House exploits the weaknesses that reside deep within one’s soul and employs those weaknesses to devour and utterly destroy the host of such vulnerabilities. Can anyone truly survive the horrors of Hell House?
Matheson is a true literary genius. He swiftly seizes the reader and propels you into a sinister world of appalling sexual exploitations, atrocious physical cruelties, and sickening mental molestations.
Hell House is one of the greatest haunted house stories I have encountered. This book is an older book, with its first publication in 1971. However, its age does not diminish its content or reduce its affect on those who face the challenge of Hell House itself.
Though the book draws you in and confronts you head on, do not look to the movie, The Legend of Hell House, to give you the same frightful sensations. The film was released in 19-seventy…something…and was not produced for the zombie-movie generation.
Hell House is not a book for you of weak character. Read it only if your soul is stout and sturdy enough to withstand the atrocities which dwell between these eerie covers.
“All your needs have been provided for, nothing has been overlooked. Go where you will, and do what you will – these are the cardinal precepts of my home. Feel free to function as you choose. There are no responsibilities, no rules. ‘Each to his own device’ shall be the only standard here. May you find the answer that you seek. It is here, I promise you. And now..,auf Wiedersehen.” ~ Emeric Belasco.
Belasco House…Hell House…within these dark passages and cavernous rooms resides the residue of pure, unadulterated evil.
This book begins with the new owner of Belasco House assembling a crew to determine what, if anything, haunts this tomb-like mansion. The crew consists of Dr. Lionel Barrett (a scientist), his wife Edith, Benjamin Franklin Fischer (a physical medium whom had experienced the house previously), and Florence Tanner (a mental medium with a profound religious faith). We accompany the group on the third attempt to discover the source of ghostly disturbances within the house. The first two attempts resulted in the murder, suicide, or mental deterioration of the investigators involved…all those except Fischer that is.
Our introduction to the House is through brief glimpses as the thick, eerie fog surrounding the mansion and Bastard Bog clears. The tour through the house leaves us chilled to the bone. As we walk room to room, corridor to corridor, the foreboding feelings steadily increase. These walls have witnessed all manner of unspeakable events.
The House is dark and angry and soon begins its attack on its unwelcome guests. The House exploits the weaknesses that reside deep within one’s soul and employs those weaknesses to devour and utterly destroy the host of such vulnerabilities. Can anyone truly survive the horrors of Hell House?
Matheson is a true literary genius. He swiftly seizes the reader and propels you into a sinister world of appalling sexual exploitations, atrocious physical cruelties, and sickening mental molestations.
Hell House is one of the greatest haunted house stories I have encountered. This book is an older book, with its first publication in 1971. However, its age does not diminish its content or reduce its affect on those who face the challenge of Hell House itself.
Though the book draws you in and confronts you head on, do not look to the movie, The Legend of Hell House, to give you the same frightful sensations. The film was released in 19-seventy…something…and was not produced for the zombie-movie generation.
Hell House is not a book for you of weak character. Read it only if your soul is stout and sturdy enough to withstand the atrocities which dwell between these eerie covers.
“All your needs have been provided for, nothing has been overlooked. Go where you will, and do what you will – these are the cardinal precepts of my home. Feel free to function as you choose. There are no responsibilities, no rules. ‘Each to his own device’ shall be the only standard here. May you find the answer that you seek. It is here, I promise you. And now..,auf Wiedersehen.” ~ Emeric Belasco.
Codependent No More: How to Stop Controlling Others and Start Caring for Yourself by Melody Beattie
4.0
This is the book that started it all. I know it is cliché but, this book has changed my life and my thinking…
I was talking to my father on the phone one day and I was explaining to him how I have no problem exercising and eating right when Otty is gone but I can’t seem to keep it up when he is home. My father then asked me if I wanted to know what that was called…he told me it was called co-dependence and that I should start learning about this by reading a book called Co-dependent No More. I pretty much ran out right away and purchased the book.
Now, I have never been a big advocate for self-improvement books, but I have to say that this book was very enlightening. Co-dependency has a different definition for everyone. This book made me delve into my own retched thoughts and confront them head on.
This book made me realize that I have a voice and an opinion and both matter just as much as the next person. I realized that I can make decisions and not have to worry if my opinion is what other people may think or want. My opinion is exactly that…my opinion. It is okay to have an opinion that is different than someone else’s.
I also learned that I need to detach myself from the people in my life that cause me harm…emotionally, physically, doesn’t matter…
Though I may not struggle with an abusive alcoholic, I still struggle with the internal doubts and feelings of self worthlessness. I have learned that I do not need to immerse myself so deeply in someone else’s life that I lose myself. I can keep my individuality while sharing my life with another. If we have conflicting views…that’s alright.
When I first read this book, I figure that I would not post my feelings about it because they were too personal. However, now having some distance from the book and being able to employ the lessons I have learned, I am able to share myself with others.
I am not perfect and it is absolutely acceptable for me to let other people know this. Maybe, by sharing these thoughts, someone else might be inspired to read this book and better themselves as well.
I was talking to my father on the phone one day and I was explaining to him how I have no problem exercising and eating right when Otty is gone but I can’t seem to keep it up when he is home. My father then asked me if I wanted to know what that was called…he told me it was called co-dependence and that I should start learning about this by reading a book called Co-dependent No More. I pretty much ran out right away and purchased the book.
Now, I have never been a big advocate for self-improvement books, but I have to say that this book was very enlightening. Co-dependency has a different definition for everyone. This book made me delve into my own retched thoughts and confront them head on.
This book made me realize that I have a voice and an opinion and both matter just as much as the next person. I realized that I can make decisions and not have to worry if my opinion is what other people may think or want. My opinion is exactly that…my opinion. It is okay to have an opinion that is different than someone else’s.
I also learned that I need to detach myself from the people in my life that cause me harm…emotionally, physically, doesn’t matter…
Though I may not struggle with an abusive alcoholic, I still struggle with the internal doubts and feelings of self worthlessness. I have learned that I do not need to immerse myself so deeply in someone else’s life that I lose myself. I can keep my individuality while sharing my life with another. If we have conflicting views…that’s alright.
When I first read this book, I figure that I would not post my feelings about it because they were too personal. However, now having some distance from the book and being able to employ the lessons I have learned, I am able to share myself with others.
I am not perfect and it is absolutely acceptable for me to let other people know this. Maybe, by sharing these thoughts, someone else might be inspired to read this book and better themselves as well.
The Almost Moon by Alice Sebold
4.0
I was drawn to this book for two reasons. The first is because I had previously read another book by this author and I wanted to see if I would like this one better. The second was the first sentence in the book…no, I will not give it away…go find it!
After reading that first sentence, I found myself completely absorbed by the book. I could not put it down. Flipping through the pages of this book was like reading pages from a journal that could very well have been my own. Though the words and experiences were different from those that lie within my own tortured past, the feelings this account roused from me were extracted from somewhere deep within my soul.
Reading this book, I was sent spiraling into a life of hurt, pain, torture, agony, and sacrifice. Almost Moon is Helen’s story of the life she knows, the agony of her memories, and the future she dreads, with the chapters jumping between and through each in turn.
The puzzle pieces of Helen’s life are scattered throughout the book and slowly the reader brings the jumbled mess into comprehension. As these jagged chunks of life begin to form what is now the essence of Helen, the reader comes to love her and understand some of the choices she has had to make. We witness the deterioration of her mother’s mind and body. We learn of the chaos concealed within her father’s tired mind which was sadly overshadowed by the needs of his wife. We ache with her as she uncovers family secrets that have been buried so deep and so long. We watch and cry as she gives up the one person who loved her and was there for her. And we sympathize with her fear for the pain that she may or may not inflict upon her own children. And Helen suffers through all of this misery for a woman who could have cared less about the devastation she was causing for her only daughter.
Now Helen finds herself in a situation that is turning from bad to worse. Unfortunately, she ends up getting her loved ones involved which does nothing to alleviate the situation. In the end, she finds she has no choices left, but one…
Though I will not divulge my reasoning’s here, I identified with Helen very much. As I read about her fears for her children and the relationship she had with her mother, I could not help but see myself in this character. Sadly, this book did not receive good reviews. I believe that in order to understand this book, you have to know Crazy. If you don’t know Crazy, you just cannot appreciate Crazy.
I still have not made my decision about Alice Sebold as a writer. The ending to this book was too hurried (almost as if she realized she had run out of pages and just stopped writing) and the last book I read had enormous potential but left me flat. I guess I have to read her first, autobiographical, book to make my final judgment.
Even though this book had a quick, seemingly unfinished ending, I must say it was well worth my time. I’m not even sure I can say it was good. It was…familiar…recognizable…at least to me.
I guess if you want an opinion of the book, you will have to read it and form your own.
After reading that first sentence, I found myself completely absorbed by the book. I could not put it down. Flipping through the pages of this book was like reading pages from a journal that could very well have been my own. Though the words and experiences were different from those that lie within my own tortured past, the feelings this account roused from me were extracted from somewhere deep within my soul.
Reading this book, I was sent spiraling into a life of hurt, pain, torture, agony, and sacrifice. Almost Moon is Helen’s story of the life she knows, the agony of her memories, and the future she dreads, with the chapters jumping between and through each in turn.
The puzzle pieces of Helen’s life are scattered throughout the book and slowly the reader brings the jumbled mess into comprehension. As these jagged chunks of life begin to form what is now the essence of Helen, the reader comes to love her and understand some of the choices she has had to make. We witness the deterioration of her mother’s mind and body. We learn of the chaos concealed within her father’s tired mind which was sadly overshadowed by the needs of his wife. We ache with her as she uncovers family secrets that have been buried so deep and so long. We watch and cry as she gives up the one person who loved her and was there for her. And we sympathize with her fear for the pain that she may or may not inflict upon her own children. And Helen suffers through all of this misery for a woman who could have cared less about the devastation she was causing for her only daughter.
Now Helen finds herself in a situation that is turning from bad to worse. Unfortunately, she ends up getting her loved ones involved which does nothing to alleviate the situation. In the end, she finds she has no choices left, but one…
Though I will not divulge my reasoning’s here, I identified with Helen very much. As I read about her fears for her children and the relationship she had with her mother, I could not help but see myself in this character. Sadly, this book did not receive good reviews. I believe that in order to understand this book, you have to know Crazy. If you don’t know Crazy, you just cannot appreciate Crazy.
I still have not made my decision about Alice Sebold as a writer. The ending to this book was too hurried (almost as if she realized she had run out of pages and just stopped writing) and the last book I read had enormous potential but left me flat. I guess I have to read her first, autobiographical, book to make my final judgment.
Even though this book had a quick, seemingly unfinished ending, I must say it was well worth my time. I’m not even sure I can say it was good. It was…familiar…recognizable…at least to me.
I guess if you want an opinion of the book, you will have to read it and form your own.