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Title: Unabashed navel-watching
Review: Even as memoirs by living people go, this book is borishly self-congratulatory and self-absorbed. As the narratively jolts and grinds along, Reichl throws recipes in at random parts of the quasi 'plot', as if to give us something in return for the money wasted on buying the book. It's not that she can't write, for she clearly can. It's more that I couldn't get interested in another person's not very interesting life, as told by Reichl, and I felt as if I were watching the food network blindfolded, with the sound turned off - except that it's just not as much fun. Tedious.
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