This was a good lesson/reminder that (generally speaking) I just don’t enjoy memoirs of people I’m not already super familiar with. Katie Couric? Britney? Bring it on. I had thought that Brigit Binns’ memoir might be something along the lines of Ruth Reichl (who I fell in love with via her memoirs!) but that was just not the case with this one. I was tempted by the angle of the book (daughter of old Hollywood actor and narcissist mother goes on to live abroad in Europe and write 30 cookbooks) but to be honest, it just didn’t grab me. I was bored a lot of the time, and the author came across as a bit narcissistic herself. Memoirs are also hard when you don’t find the narrator particularly likable. On a positive note, it was interesting at times (her descriptions of the food she served at different parties was inspiring – I could have read a book just about her hosting tips and dinner party menus!) but mostly, I was like “why do I care, why am I reading this, I don’t really like this person.” A little bit brutal but I wouldn’t want someone else to waste their time. So unless you are already a fan of Binns and are eager to learn more about her life (and it is an interesting life!) you can skip this one!