one line review!
alternate title: eat, complain about your non-existent white people problems, love
more lines review!
I’ve been lugging Kathleen Flinn’s “The Sharper Your Knife, the Less You Cry” from undersized East Coast apartment to undersized East Coast apartment for at least three years. Each time I nestled the press galley copy I snagged from a sophomore year internship onto the shelf, I’d consider reading it, then take a nap. (Actually, let’s not kid ourselves with the shelves — what are floors for, anyway?)
Years later, after reading hundreds of pages of Flinn whimpering and whining her way through learning to cook at Le Cordon Bleu and “learning to love” in Paris, I realize I probably had the right idea with all the naps. Suh-nooooze.
Flinn is abruptly fired from her job in London, and, with the unyielding support of her long-distance boyfriend Mike, decides to Fulfill Her Dreams and follow in Julia Childs’ enormous, buttery footsteps, all the way to the world’s most famous cooking school. Oh, and Mike is totally prepared to quit his job in Seattle and move to France to be with her! And both of them have enough accrued wealth to accommodate this obvious set-up for a memoir mid-life crisis DREAM COME TRUE.
Guess what! Kathleen and Mike never run out of luck or love — they get married, and Flinn’s greatest foes are a cranky chef and the butter-heavy cuisine that begins to show on her oh-so-slim (as she’s happy to point out throughout the book). Quelle désastre! Quelle…a premise for a book!
Flinn’s memories of culinary school, between loving portraits of her beautiful international classmates and lovely descriptions of baguettes and wine and blah blah tell us again how you’re 120 pounds but daily gnaw butter directly off the cube whilst cooking, are begging for a minimally adapted screenplay, complete with one token shot of a monkey, a la Eat, Pray, Love.
Of course, I was one of the millions of suckers who paid actual money to see Julia Roberts discover herself in a plate of butter noodles, so, you know. I’ll see you in line when The Sharper Your Knife, the Less You Cry becomes the vehicle for Katherine Heigl’s inevitable likability campaign. (What a jerk that one is.)