From Perky to Pervy: Julie Powell's Epic Failure in the Eyes of Her Audience

She's a good writer and an even better blogger  who balances the personal and professional aspects of her writing with great poise and honesty. I think both her book and blog were successes because her imperfections and determination connected people with comforting dreams and female ambition. I mean, who wouldn't root for a modern woman to get back in the kitchen and cook? Please note the sarcasm.   

While the movie version of Powell isn't all together perfect either (Don't you remember that one squabble she had with Eric?), it certainly didn't prepare either film or literary audiences for what came next in her writing career - Cleaving: A Story of Marriage, Meat, and Obsession, which turns the cutesy image of Powell completely on its head. Following the publication of Julie and Julia, Powell had an extramarital affair with an old flame and expanded her culinary expertise by apprenticing at a butcher's shop in Kingston, NY. With the same honest chutzpah she brought to the Julie and Julia project, Powell recounts every painful detail of her obsessive relationship with the other man and relishes disclosing every bloody (and fairly sexy) element of her butchering experience. She doesn't hold back and that seems to have really pissed off her Julie and Julia fan base.

Judging by the scathing customer reviews on Amazon and a handful of professional reviews by book critics, Powell's audience is absolutely infuriated with her because she failed to live up to their expectations for a proper follow up to Julie and Julia. What should she have done? Hosted her own cooking show about baking cupcakes while wearing a pink apron? Should she have birthed a few children and wrote a memoir about introducing them to French cuisine? I don't know, but I do know that the perky writer who squirmed at dropping live lobsters into a boiling pot shouldn't have had an affair (even though her husband had one too), admitted to enjoying some S&M every now and again, and she definitely shouldn't have become the hunter rather than the gatherer by learning how to chop up animals.

By writing this earnest memoir, Powell has joined the ranks of women like Marilyn Monroe, Doris Day, and even Miley Cyrus who pulled career and image turnarounds by going against popular favor. People were outraged when Monroe took time off to become a "real" actress by studying with Lee Strasberg at the height of her career. Doris Day fans were very upset when she starred opposite James Cagney in Love Me or Leave Me as a hard-boiled moll instead of appearing in her usual fluffy romcoms. And let's not forget Miley Cyrus' Vanity Fair photo debacle from a couple of years ago.

Can you think of any other examples? Do you think Powell is being too self-indulgent with her second memoir? Should she see a therapist instead of writing everything out? Do you think people would have the same reaction if Cleaving was written by a man? I've always thought that a memoir is supposed to be up close, personal, and inherently self-indulgent. I've also always thought that writing is a great way to express your inner demons and truly admire Powell for being brave enough to share the less than fun sides of her personal life in such a public way. What do you think?

Twitter: @Cineslayer.