Julia, Julie, Judith, and Me

Julia Child wants you -- that's right, you, the one living in the tract house in sprawling suburbia with a dead-end secretarial job and nothing but a Stop-n-Shop for miles around -- to master the art of french cooking. (No caps, please.) She wants you to know how to make good pastry, and also how to make those canned green beans taste alright. She wants you to remember that you are human, and as such are entitled to that most basic of human rights, the right to eat well and enjoy life. And that, my friends, blows heirloom tomatoes and first-press Umbrian olive oil out of the fucking water. - Julie Powell, The Julie/Julia Project

A brilliant quote.

A few years back, someone called to my attention a blog written by a young woman named Julie Powell. Her writing was smart, sometimes a little bit snarky, very definitely edgy, and totally heartfelt. The Julie/Julia Project was an entry-by-entry accounting of her offsetting her workaday life by cooking her way through Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Volume 1, which is comprised of 500+ often idiosyncratic recipes like poulet poele a l'estragon (page 249), veau sylvie (page 357), and jambon farci et braise (page 394).

It was August, 2002; we were all still in national mourning over 9/11. Come mid-month, I would be mourning my own sudden loss of my dad, who died of injuries resulting from a car accident. I was bereft, and seven years later, on many days, I still am, and the only way I climb out of my pain is to cook. So looking back, I suppose I really liked Julie Powell from the outset because on the one hand, her writing was fearless, tough, and totally engaging, and on the other hand, I could understand coming to a point in life where one's own day-to-day is a little bit rocky and one needs a steadying hand to keep one (or, I should say, me) from throwing up. Because, as I read somewhere recently, no matter how bad Julie's day was, there was always the fact of the food, the method, and the process, at day's end.

So several years later, when Judith Jones, Julia's famed editor, told me that she didn't approve of the blog or the book that followed because it denigrated Julia's name and all she had done, I was completely mystified. For one thing, this wasn't so much about Julia as it was about Julie; for another, having heard story after story over the years about how Julia really liked young people who were inspired by her and the process to step into the kitchen and change their lives, I'd guess that Julia -- if you asked her, as opposed to her people -- would have likely given a rousing thumbs up to Julie Powell.

I was sitting in Judith's office that day because, years before, I had taken it into my brain to put together a small book of quotes by Julia called The Wit & Wisdom of Julia Child; I proposed it to a major publisher, and they bought it for a petite sum that would pretty much pay for rights, and little else. Part of the proposal was that all of my royalties, assuming I earned any, would be donated in their entirety to Julia's scholarship fund at the American Institute of Wine and Food. Long story short: for five months, I worked on the book, gathering material and contacting friends of Julia who agreed to contribute to the book in some manner; one day, I sat down at my computer to find that I had been blind copied on an email exchange between Julia's attorney, Judith, and Julia's longtime assistant: "I don't like this one bit," was all it said, referring to my book. A week later, I had a cease and desist order in hand. Two weeks after that, my publisher canceled the book. And two weeks after that -- and even though I had spent five months working on it -- I was asked to return the first portion of my advance, which I did. As a longtime editor myself, I was aghast. As a writer who had no representation at that time, I knew that I had just been bullied into submission, and that, most likely, Julia had absolutely no inkling that this was happening. That afternoon, in Judith's office, she explained to me why, exactly, she had killed my project: because it would denigrate Julia's memory.

On the day that I met with Judith to chat about my book, I was a senior editor at a different Random House imprint, and I knew, certainly, what it was like to feel proprietorship over some of my authors. I also had, and still have, a longtime collegial reverence for Judith, and all the work that she had done over the years (certainly involving Julia, but also far beyond). But what befuddled me was the implication that Julia was simply a commodity -- a property to be owned and used by pre-approved people -- and that those of us who wished to write about her in any manner because we were inspired by her and because she changed our lives, were quietly forbidden: the very people who wanted to prevent Julia from becoming a commodity had inadvertently turned her into one.

So when I started reading Julie Powell's blog, and then read her book and heard about the movie (long before the public would learn that it was partly taken from My Life in France, Julia's posthumously published quasi-biography written by Paul Child's nephew Alex Prud'homme), I applauded. Judith said that it denigrated Julia's work; I said that, as much as I adored Julia and all she had done and meant, it wasn't so much about her, specifically, and that perhaps the naysayers, herself included, were missing the point. Because, at the end of the day, Julie Powell's blog, and her book, were about Julie and the fact that, no matter how crappy her day was, there was always the lesson that Julia taught everyone by her mere existence: that loving food and understanding the process and the inalienable right to "eat well and enjoy life," are things that no one, ever, can claim ownership over.

Brava to you, Julie Powell.

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Comments

[ReesieKitty]

I was lucky enough to meet Julia Child when she was making public appearances. I grew up cooking in a family of wonderful cooks and went to cooking school. I quickly discovered - not unlike Julia- that i did not want to be a CHEF, but a cook. Julia Child taught me the distinction between the two and opened up the possibility that there was a space there at all. I did not follow the original blog, but was given an advance copy of Julie & Juila to read before it came out. I loved it- it seemed to me that Julie's adventures in cooking were just the kind of thing Julia Child MEANT to inspire. I passed it on to all of my foodie friends and we all agreed that we really enjoyed it and related to it. We also agreed that we were completely shocked to read later that 'Julia Child' didn't like the idea and hadn't approved of it. Now it sounds to me like it was all about her publisher protecting herself and her rights to material. I think sharing how someone like Julia Child inspired you or others is a terrific thing. Too bad you were another victim of the bullying publishing industry! I hope Julie makes a boatload of money off of her film and I will surely buy her next book too!

[Elissa Altman - Huffpost Blogger]

I think that the bigger issue, really, is how much an editor can control the persona of an author; there's a fine line between protection (and as editors, we often feel compelled to be quite protective), copyright protection (the mere fact of Julia as inspiration can't be copyrighted, the use of her book in a movie or a blog can't be copyrighted unless it's directly quoted from, and short quotes taken from different sources are usually--depending on length--fair use). To be clear, the publishing industry is a great one that's in the throes of a lot of change; I do think that there are a lot of ethical issues that come to the fore when you deal with a longtime publisher of record, and the visibility of one of its authors. (For more, read the AE Hotchner NY Times article about Hemingway's A Moveable Feast.)
The fact is that Julie's blog was about Julie, and the inspiration she got from the woman who changed the American culinary landscape. There's not a thing wrong with that.

[Talibah Gilani]

Loved the article, Elissa, and my impression of Julia is, she would love your book! And to those who feel Julie Powell "stole" Julia Child's fame, or rode on her apron strings: what is the difference of writing of how Julia's cooking changed one's mediocre life, and say, a great actor writing about how Shakespeare changed theirs? And, who among us have devoted one full year of our life to such a disciplined undertaking??? The naysayers remind me of Julia's narrowminded, uptight, mentally constipated father, who was the antithesis of all her endeavors. Bravisimma Julie Powell (blogger), Nora Ephron (filmmaker) and of course, JULIA!

[notmuchofacook]

Good grief, Elissa! That's just stunning. So someone owns the rights to peoples' experiences with Julia Child? From her cookbooks, to her TV shows, articles, etc? That's abominable. Your post, despite the disappointment you must have felt, was very generous and forgiving.

[JamesHarrowsmith]

Elissa -- I think you are wrong, and Judith Jones is right. Julie Child created something new -- and through her interests and passion she changed the world for the better. Julie Powell didn't change anything--she took from Julia Child. Without the Julia Child connection, Julie Powell is just some woman in Queens cooking and blogging about it. It was Julia Child's fame that Julie Powell borrowed (well, stole). Julia Child would have applauded if Ms. Powell had created something on her own -- all Ms. Powell did was copy. We shouldn't applaud that.

[NYCPub]

Yes, after all, Julia Child created French cooking, and France, for that matter.

[Elissa Altman - Huffpost Blogger]

I do see your point James. However, the implication really is that no one--neither Julie nor Judith nor anyone else who might wish to write (even remotely) about being inspired by an esteemed public figure -- should be able to, lest they be considered a hanger-on. Writers take on huge projects all the time and blog about them, and very often the projects themselves are connected to another public figure. That's not copying; that's freedom of speech (assuming that it is not, in fact, denigrating said public figure in any way, and that;s another story entirely). Again, I have a profound amount of respect for Judith Jones, but conversely, we could also argue Who would she be had Julia not come along? Another well-heeled, exceptionally talented editor with a raft of famous authors to her name. It was only the public connection to Julia that catapulted her into stardom, and Judith has ridden that wave well, and quite publicly--hence, her recent autobiography. I know scores of brilliant editors who could write about their lives working with famous authors and celebs, but most of them don't.

[JamesHarrowsmith]

Wow -- now you're attacking Judith Jones -- the woman who pulled Anne Frank's diary out of the reject pile and convinced Doubleday to publish it; the woman who put her job on the line to publish Julia Child's first cookbook after other publishers rejected it -- and even her own boss told her it wouldn't sell; the woman who published a number of her own wonderful cookbooks; the woman who published dozens of other major cookbook writers??? Cookbook publishing would NOT be what it is today without Judith Jones. In fact, we may have never heard of Julia Child without Judith Jones. It was a collaboration.

Also -- you may think the Julia Child estate is stuffy and stopping people who want to continue the legacy -- but please remember that Julia Child herself handpicked the people who would run her estate after her death -- she chose a conservative Boston law firm. She is getting what she wanted. Who are you to question her? It’s her legacy that she is protecting from scavengers like Julie Powell, who only aim to take, not to give back. Julia Child was famous for her generosity – just look at her last series in which she introduced a whole her world of young cooks to her TV audience. She applauded people who wanted to make a difference and were serious about cooking, like she was. My feeling is that is not what Julie Powell had in mind, and probably why Ms. Child

[nonibright]

Perhaps you are missing the point that Julia Child wanted to make: Cooking is personal. You put your spin on the recipe, presentation, and the actual indulgence of eating. Putting the food together, developing it to its full potential and then tasting it. It's like having a wonderful lover who knows what you like and then presenting it to you with a flourish!!

[Emkay Harvey]

But James, Julia created her book to allow us to copy her exactly! She obsessed over testing and rewriting until she was certain her work not only COULD be recreated but WOULD be! If anything, Julie Powell gave to Julia a whole new audience-- a new generation of appreciative "serventless home cooks."

[db08]

Thank you for your insights and willingness to share your personal experience. I often worry about assigning views to those who have passed on. This action is particularly problematic when it is negative. Having said that, I think that bringing Julia Childs' cooking and courage to another generation and revealing her struggles and triumphs to those who only saw her in the small box serves the public good.

[marignymitch]

And if one failed to eat well and enjoy life Julie recommended drinking ... heavily, very heavily.

[Elissa Altman - Huffpost Blogger]

Thanks Virginia. A hard piece to write. I worship Judith as an editor; but as an editor myself I do not believe that any of us can claim proprietorship until we've been declared literary executors. Look what happened to Raymond Carver and Gordon Lish, after all.

[Virginia Willis]

HI Elisa - Thanks for posting. I like this. Love the dialogue.