Why was she so obsessed with rehashing the foods of her childhood? It seemed like a third of the book was spent bad mouthing the food she grew up with (which seemed typical of any American family diet in the 1970s) without drawing any real parallels to her disease. I am glad she figured out what is wrong with her and is now eating so well, but her condescension was overwhelming and a real turn-off to me as a reader. She also repeated herself in many of the chapters.

Why, oh why didn’t she arrange the book chronologically? I feel like we were just revisiting the same eras again and again.

I was into this book until she started saying that butter used for baking only needed be to softened if you are using a handmixer. That simply isn’t true (unless you have a professional mixer) and made me doubt everything else she wrote.

It is not really a collection of food reviews but a collection of food related quotes.

This is a really quick book to read despite the subject matter. At first I was a little hesitant to read it since it is such a departure for her (write what you know, right?) but oddly the parts that rang false for me wasn’t the jet setting reporter or South Africa bits, but the diary passages of the teenage, Broadway loving boy and the pat ending.

The New Yorkers was fairly dreadful. There was this ponderous narration: “And now it is time to tell you about Gary….”. I expected at any moment for the next line to be “Good-by, Good-by, world. Good-by, Grover’s Corners”. So I had to stop reading it.

pretty awful

like an afterschool special with nudity.

How can a Spanish musical about a pre-op transexual who lives with a criminal, cello playing dwarf be so boring? It had good elements, it just wasn’t good.

awful