I Loved, I Lost, I Made Spaghetti

Giulia Melucci's memoir I Loved, I Lost, I Made Spaghetti was a bit of a disappointment for me. It's basically a chronicle of her string of failed relationships, which I found more frustrating than entertaining. Most of her boyfriends are losers and I kept thinking: "Hasn't this girl read He's Just Not That Into You?" She comes off as a little desperate, which was a turnoff. I wanted to shake her and tell her to dump those idiots. But none of her relationships are so unusual that her experiences stand out from everyone else's, so I didn't really get why her experiences necessitated a book. Why does she get a book deal for that? I can write about cooking for an ungrateful husband who prefers Chef Boyardee to real food.* I think that would be infinitely more entertaining. I also thought it would at least be humorous, but I didn't really find it to be so. Cooking is a big part of Melucci's life, which was the part I enjoyed. She cooks to entice men, and to soothe her broken heart. She seems to subscribe to the notion that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, which again, I found frustrating. But she offers many recipes that are simple yet elegant, and these were the highlight of the book for me.

*Publishers and agents: call me. We'll talk.