I guess the truth is that butchers intimidate the hell out of me. I've long had a bit of a thing for them, akin to the way many women feel about firefighters. Burly Irishmen covered in soot are okay, I guess, if you're into that. But I prefer this world's lock-pickers to its battering rams. Anybody with enough resolve and muscle can bust down a door; that kind of force I comprehend completely. I myself possess it, psychologically if not physically — just call me Julie "Steamroller" Powell. But a man who can both heave a whole pig over his shoulder and deftly break down the creature into all its luscious parts, in a matter of moments? That's a man whose talents I can really use.
I'm attracted to a butcher's intimate knowledge. Romantically, I imagine it's innate, that his nicked hands were born knowing how to slice those whisper-thin cutlets. I'm attracted to his courtly, old-world brand of machismo. Butchers are known for their corny jokes and their sexism, but when the man behind the counter calls me "sweetheart" or "little lady," I find myself flattered rather than offended. Most of all, I'm attracted to his authority. There's an absolute sureness to a butcher, whether he is chining lamb chops with a band saw or telling his customer just how to prepare a crown roast. He is more certain of meat than I've ever been about anything. Rippling deltoids and brawny good looks are nice, of course, but to me a butcher's sureness is the definition of masculinity. It strikes me as intoxicatingly exotic, like nothing I've ever experienced. (Well, not for years, anyway, not since I was a kid. I think of the teenager I was when I found Eric and took him to me, and it's like remembering an entirely different person.)
Maybe that's why I seem unable to open my mouth around butchers.
If I'm dreading a conversation, I tend to practice it over and over in my head beforehand, perhaps not the most effective of preparation techniques. "I want to learn how to—" . . . "I was hoping you could teach me to—" . . . "I'm really so interested in what you do . . ." Ugh.
Ripling deltoids and brawny good looks are nice, but a butcher's sureness is the definition of masculinity.
This is far from the first butcher I've tried to ask for this favor. Weeks ago, I asked the guys at Ottomanelli's — my first butcher shop when I moved to New York City, and still my favorite. It's a tidy storefront on Bleecker Street with hams and ducks hanging in the meticulously polished windows and a tight awning overhead, red and white stripes as neat as the trimmed and tied meat and bones within. I used to be a regular there, and the guys behind the counter—brothers, I think, all of them in their sixties or seventies, white coats spanking clean despite days of blood and ooze—still always make a point of greeting me when I come in. It's not quite a "Norm!" sort of welcome, but there's warmth there.
But when I managed to ask, stammering, if they had a place for an apprentice with zero experience, they demurred. Not particularly shocking, I suppose. Instead they suggested one of the culinary schools downtown. I briefly entertained this notion, but it turns out culinary programs don't offer one-off classes on butchering, and I wasn't about to shell out twenty thousand bucks for a yearlong program teaching restaurant management and pastry making, my personal vision of hell. I proceeded to ask around at the handful of other butcher shops in the city, or try to, anyway. Half the time I couldn't even get the words out. When I did, the men behind the counter looked at me as if I might be a tad touched and shook their heads.
I press my lips together as the beseeching words run through my mind. And then, inevitably perhaps, he pops into my head, the one whom the word beseech sometimes seems to me to have been invented for, the man who called, two years ago, to ask me to lunch, the man I've wound up spending much of the last two years pleading with—for attention, assurance, sex, and love. The exception proving the rule of my marriage, the one man who, when he was not much more than a boy, small and dark, not so very attractive, found he could make me open my dorm room door in bewilderment, late at night, with a single knock. The one who, nine years later, discovered he could still do essentially the same thing. In my phone's contact list he is represented by a single towering initial, D.
But no. I'll not let him in, not now. I shake my head sharply, as if I could physically dislodge the errant thoughts. Find a butcher. Get him to teach you how he does what he does. Do it now. I don't know why I want this so much, what I have to gain from learning to cut up animals. Yes, I have a thing for butchers, but it hasn't ever before occurred to me to try to be one. What's going on here?
Maybe I just need distraction. D and I have been sleeping together for nearly two years now. I'm familiar with the landscape of addiction, and I recognize that I've built up a habit for him, no less real and physical than my habit for booze, which has itself grown stronger in the wake of all the various stresses of being an adulterer. And something is wrong lately, slightly off. Just thinking about that makes me crave a drink.
Commentarium (69 Comments)
WOW. That is intense, and amazing. Not at all what I expected from the Julie and Julia author - who will star in this movie?!
Sounds like a great marriage! (Your husband needs to get the fuck out of this situation pronto; you seem like an unbelievably cruel bitch).
beautiful and all-too-human. The best (and most honest, I think) writers about sex and relationships always sound like the most awful of people on the page. I've always thought that Roth sounded like one of the most contemptible men on the planet. but, oh my god, I love his writing. Julie Powell seems much the same to me.
She's not being a bitch - she's being an honest artist, and showing all her faults on the page.
What a cunt! You both go on living a shameful lie, mistaking titillation for joy. You both sound miserable and the cause is being unable to focus on anything but trying something new (and your genitals). It is people like you, who write so candidly and unapologetically about the trashing of your vows, that diminish and defile the institution of marriage. You would do well to remember that shamelessness is not a virtue, it is just a way to alienate yourself from the degree to which you have been corrupted and defiled.
thats writing from the gut. go girl.
DCV, Just because she is being honest should't be a slide on being kind of a bitch. Just because you can admit to something does not make it ok. Honestly, she sucks but her husband sucks almost as much, if not more, for staying. It's sad to see how little self-respect some people have. If she really wanted to be honest she would do the right thing or admit to herself something is wrong and just end it. Anyone can talk about problems but not everyone can take the action.
You are right. Writing about being a bitch is not the same as being a bitch. But it is still true that the author is a total bitch.
If people didn't do bad things sometimes and write about them, then we'd only have really boring things to read. Also: now I kinda want to date a butcher.
I can't imagine being in this situation, but maybe i'm naive. Can you really live with someone while you're having an affair, and your husband knows about it? I just can't imagine this world. I'm not judging, but it would devastate me.
I never understand the folks who call people "a bitch" on the comment board. For one, I thought it was well-written and reads as 'honest.' As for her adultery, the world is complicated and every relationship lives (and falls apart) by it's own rules. I, for one, thought it was a pleasure to read.
I never understood the reluctance to call a person what she is or to tolerate and ignore morally egregious behavior on the part of an other person because you weren't the one directly affected. No one is disputing its honesty, but when honesty collapses into shamelessness or a failure to acknowledge one's own duplicity, I don't see the problem with pointing out those very real personal flaws!
BR. How honest can something like this really be? I understand that she is not holding back so by you getting the "full" story you can say its honest but when you really think about it, all you can pull from this is that she is honest about living a lie and is for some strange reason is OK with that fact. How can she be honest with the reader when she can't even be honest with herself. If fact, after reading this, I'm convinced she is living such a lie I can only wonder how much she is holding back on.
@amg - you can never know how truly honest any personal essay is. authors can always hold back, about anything, for whatever reason. what do you imagine she's holding back on? did she murder a whole mess of people as well?
The point is that if she can't even be honest with herself (the essay avoids any mention of responsibility or real remorse) then it would be naive to think that this is an honest account of her relationship. The difference between writing and emoting is self-awareness and the author seems to be lacking exactly this!
I appreciate her honesty but also it's totally fair to point out that she is awful.
Wow. Those of you who judge Julie based on this book are no better than a flock of clucking hens. Sometimes, people hold on. And they redefine their relationship. And accept the other person's flaws, no matter how distasteful they are to the Gladys Kravitz's in the crowd. I respect Julie's honesty; her ability to be fully present in her life and in her husband's....thoe of you who would have every relationship be some Stepford ideal are delusional. Why should she have remorse? More to the point, why should she share that with you judgemental harpies? Whatever amends she and her husband made to each other are THEIRS. Just like their marriage. Not a choice you would have made? Fine. But you have no call to bat about the "c" word. Miserable wretches, you are.
though perhaps "awful" is the wrong word i think people are reacting to the fact that she seems miserable, her husband seems miserable, and as someone who has actually read the book i have to say even D. seems miserable. this is no happy open relationship. this is awful, even if you think the author herself is not.
And to think, I just wasted $3.50 and two hours renting that stupid movie and watching it with my wife. I am disgusted I helped fill this cunt's coffers. On behalf of married men everywhere, fuck you, Julie.
I don't think there's any duplicity in the author's portrayal of her marriage or her role in it. The piece came across to me as a pretty savage indictment of her own behavior.
Why should she have remorse? Ummm because she broke her vows and made another person miserable. Save the moral relativism for your philosophy seminar, in the real world people pass judgments as a way of enforcing and promulgating social norms. KWN is delusional if she thinks this is an honest account of a relationship. the author is so far from honest that she can't even take a hard look at the pain and discord she is sowing. Anyone willing to share their misdeeds with others should take pains to acknowledge that fact that they were misdeeds! You act as though we should all be grateful that she has the courage to share - fuck that she should be ashamed of the things she is doing. It won't be too long before we are telling people not to be judgmental when they read stories about how awesome it feels to kill or rape. KWN is civilized to the point of being unable to pass judgment on the most egregious of immoral conduct!
I thought it was a terribly sad, well-written story. I felt kinda dusgusted, but well, that's what art is all about. And this piece of text describes how sad our sex drives and humanly desires can actually be, but they still are what they are. It kinda makes me happy about my own relationship with my wife as well, and encourages me to make it work, to care for it. Nice writting.
It comes across this way yes. But there is no indication the author is aware of that. Indeed it is because she is so blase about the whole thing that it comes across in such a scathing way. I mean reread the last few lines - she seems content with her behavior.
Wow... I hope her husband left her sorry ass already.
I don't mind being knocked for being judgmental. Have we really reached a point where someone can do something so hurtful to other people and still be the victim? This should be in NO WAY an acceptable way to act. In fact the "friend" who supports her by hearing her problems isn't much of a friend when you think about it. If I ever pulled something like this I would want a friend to say stop this what the HELL are you doing end it or fix it. Have we all really become so sensitive that we can't take a good hard shot of reality once in a while?
What is even worse is that she cuckolds her husband and then has the audacity to totally emasculate him by writing a book about it, but all anyone wants to do is take a hands off attitude and call it 'art'. I won't be playing along!
Again, a relationship - whether marriage, civil union or something not codified by church or state - is the business of the two people involved. And I know she chose to bring it to light, but that is what artists DO. Your sanctimonious declarations about what is right or wrong when it comes to how two people define their relationship is fine IN YOUR LIFE. But don't think you have any right to sit in judgement. Glass houses and all, y'know?
The cheating is not the worst part, the worst telling your husband it's the best sex you've ever had, telling him you are in love with the other man, but still wanting to hold on to your marriage. The worst part is going back to your husband after the other man dumps you, just b/c he is there, and because he is too much of a chump to change the locks. but even worse is writing about it, publishing it, going out on a book tour to promote it, oh, and making sure bits and pieces of it are available all over the internet just in case someone doesn't want to shell out the money to BUY the damn book.
But even worse than that, is that somehow, this man, after all this, still believes his wife loves him.
Just keep your comments about my comments to yourself ok! I am an artist and so my comments and actions are not to be criticized. If you want to criticize something you are only allowed to criticize YOUR OWN LIFE! ****Good god where do people get such juvenile views of what is fair game for being judged? She isn't even accurate, no one gave Julie's husband the choice to help define the relationship - she just went out and cheated!
I think everyone seems to be forgetting that the author herself describes herself as an "amoral, filthy, self-absorbed whore" though she is rather shameless about it.
https://www.doublex.com/blog/cleavingwithjuliepowell/julie-powell-too-bad...
If you notice, her friend gives her advice and is there for support, and occasionally calls her on her bullshit, but DOES NOT JUDGE. That's what friends do. People who do this IRL usually are (deservedly) unhappy and are not the type of friend anyone wants anyway. Sure, you have the right to say something is immoral, but I also have the right to not let someone who does that be friends with me or any of my friends, and to let them know how little they care about you and how much they care about applying some arbitrary, inflexible moral standard to whatever situation is at hand. Notice the "moral police" commentors don't offer help or advice--just judgements.
"Help, I need support! I'm an adulterous piece of shit and feel terrible, please tell me my husband is crappy so I don't feel so bad" Real friends offer us support in helping us be the people we want and aspire to be. Sycophants like this 'friend' provide justification, cover and facilitate our drive to become worse people than we were before. There is a huge difference and I feel sorry for you if you can't see it!!
Come on dr that is bullshit! A true friend is one who will point out that you are behaving badly and going off the rails. A true friend is a friend to your marriage and other commitments and will tell you that you are putting them in jeopardy and being selfish. In short, true friends show their worth in telling us what we don't want to hear.
Again, a relationship - whether marriage, civil union or something not codified by church or state - is the business of the two people involved. And I know she chose to bring it to light, but that is what artists DO. Your sanctimonious declarations about what is right or wrong when it comes to how two people define their relationship is fine IN YOUR LIFE. But don't think you have any right to sit in judgement. Glass houses and all, y'know?
No one's saying a friend should condone the actions; her friend was not a sycophant...she asked if there was any way it could turn out well. Can't be much clearer than that. But what's the point of berating them? Will your judgements and pressure to conform eventually lead to them changing their ways? Doubtfully, and even if they did, they'd probably resent you. At some point after you've said what you needed to say (repeatedly at times), you've just got to be their friend. Or, you abandon them because they're not living the way you want them to. And a friend who would abandon me is no friend at all.
I disagree. Having now been thorough AA for 12 years I can say that the best friends I had were the one's who were willing to cut me loose to fail on my own. It was the one's who were always supportive and sympathetic when I was ruining my life and foisting consequences on others that allowed me to continue on my destructive path. I don't know the author of course but she talks a lot about drinking and shows some signs that she has problems with impulse control sometimes that results in behaviors as obvious as alcoholism but sometimes it is just a thousand destructive things that a person does to take advantage of and blame the other person in his life. I think a real friend would be one that points that out repeatedly and if nothing is done cuts that person loose - because in the end these destructive behaviors destroy everyone around them. If this woman is on the verge of a sex addiction or other destructive habitual lifestyle then it is absolutely everyone's job to judge them and to ensure that they bear the consequences of that action. Private lives and relationships are one thing, but abuse and addiction flourish in the privacy on one's home and relationships and the current attitude of 'its no one's business to judge' makes them grow every more powerful, seductive and damaging before they can no longer be ignored and are confronted.
Can't believe they got Amy Adams to play this chick. With that butter face, I'm thinking Roseanne would have worked.
i honestly think the only issue here is that she wrote the book too soon. there are tons of valid things she brings up--sexual attraction in a relationship usually wanes, if not outright dies after awhile, and the desire you feel for someone else can be all-consuming. people HATE addressing this very real issue, so i applaud julie for doing so. that crazy intense chemical thing feels like love, hell maybe even is love, in the romantic sense of the word, but that doesn't mean people leave their relationships since that too is love in a different form. but reading her utter self-involvement and lack of insight is a bit sickening--i just think she needed more distance from the whole thing to bring some kind of perspective on the events. she's obviously writing from a place where she's still sexually obsessed with D. and it shows. boy, does it show.
@ his - I totally agree. You hit the nail on the head. She probably felt pressured to write her second book after the wild success of the first book. And she obviously threw her heart and soul into the writing of the book, but without much distance from the emotional events. Which means it's raw and painful, but doesn't yet have perspective. I wonder what happened to her marriage?!?
i'm so sick of reading about this book everywhere I turn.
i think she's a hack. not worth reading, when there is so much good stuff out there.
Everything I have ever seen by her is just disgusting in every possible way. Paris Hilton is a better human being, and [probably a better writer.
Awful writer. Awful human being.
If writing like that gets book and movie deals, excuse me while I off myself.
Wow. That sucked.
Cheating. Piece. Of. Shit. If it was a man cheating on his wife, I bet most of the people defending her would have the opposite opinion. It's like Tiger Woods... if Tiger's wife had been cheating and he attacked her with a golf club, you would be calling for his head on a platter. But I guess it's like Jack Nicholson's charactesays in "As Good As It Gets" in reference to writing women characters: "Think of a man, and then take away all reason and accountability."
Actually Oscar Wilde said it...if you want to use a phrase as an example of sexism in any way, why not check out the sexual preferences of the original statement and know what lay behind the comment? In this case, a deep mysogeny. Tiger Woods keeps coming up, and his decision to commit adultry is about as interesting as Julie Powell's same choice. I illustrate this by saying with all honesty, he did what, when? He plays golf, yes? This is how important the sex of the adulterer is to me and what it has meant to know the story. Do you believe women have no reason, nor accountability? Do you use this quote incorrectly or not to show how much you dislike the cheating of a woman or the hatred you feel from women towards men in popular culture. Does this mean if we do not complain bitterly about men who cheat it is ok for women to do so and that will be better for men who have? I am making this idiotically confusing and simplistic in the content for a reason, you're an idiot who thinks he has large ideas to disguise small hatreds that shine through clearly in probably most comments you make.
https://brooklynbased.net/everything/10-qs-for-julie-powell/
Well, monogamy is not right for everyone. Sounds like this couple probably started off monogamous the way most couples do, because it's what you're "supposed" to do and that it's the "only real/adult/viable/acceptable" option to have a committed, healthy relationship
Only it just ain't so.
This couple stepped outside of the monogamous default. Trouble is they aren't really communicating and negotiating about it, talking about what they each want and need. They're doing, and not talking, and it sounds stressful. Maybe needlessly so.
It might be helpful for them both to learn more about polyamory, a responsible, honest, consensual alternative to monogamy. This works for many people. And if it's done honestly and with good will, it's definitely less destructive than dishonesty or avoided communication.
Good resource on polyamory: https://xeromag.com/fvpoly.html
grteat writing, and the text messaging vibrating, i feel that all the time.. the excitement.. sigh
Wow. I hope the author reads these comments and figures out just how badly she's treating her "husband." It'd be interesting to read HIS words, and see how he feels about all this. The author makes a lot of assumptions about what he thinks or is thinking... is she really so egomaniacal that she thinks she knows what's in his mind? And, I will never buy that book. I'm with the fellows here... on behalf of married men everywhere, please go away and do not darken our doors again Julie.
So many misogynists here...
Where? I don't see any.
kwn, you're the sole reason the world hates feminism. Your arguments are vague and shrouded in a veil of "artsiness" and nonjudgmental spinelessness. In the real world, we pass judgment, especially to those who deserve it. What Julie Powell did with this book isn't "art:" it's sensationalist exploitative garbage. It's all about sales. Besides, she's a shitty writer, and in my mind gives Stephanie Meyer a run for her money. If you can't read her soullessness from this excerpt, you need better glasses.
From a man's perspective though, her husband must be a total tool for staying with her.
Julie Powell is another example of why they created the word "cunt."
If that word offends you more than Julie's sexcapades, you need to reorder your priorities.
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I was going to say, "Jesus. Thanks, Julie Powell, for rubbing our noses in it." But instead this was a harrowing look inside someone else's little piece of beautiful misery. It was uncomfortable to read, and probably nobody involved - Eric, D, or Julie Powell - deserves this kind of literary evisceration. But probably it was uncomfortable because it was honest.