by Julie Andrews
read by the author
ages: adult
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I picked this one up for my commute audio book mostly because I like Julie Andrews. I’m not a huge fan or anything, but I like her well enough. She’s, well, nice and she’s aged so beautifully, and I have tons of respect for her, that I figured: why not read her memoir of her childhood.

And for the most part, it’s not a bad book. I especially enjoyed the audio form, listening to Julie (we’re on a first-name basis now that I’ve finished the book) tell stories about her parents (you can tell she adores her dad); her step-father, whose name she ended up with (he was quite creepy); her life in vaudeville (she ended up supporting her family for quite some time); her leap into Broadway (a bit of a fluke and a lucky chance); and her time with My Fair Lady and Camelot.

But, I didn’t love the book. I don’t think it was because her life lacked conflict; there was all sorts of ups and downs as she was trying to figure out who she was (other than that cute girl with the freakish voice) and how to make her way in the world. I also don’t think it was because she ended the book just as I though it was getting really interesting. No, it was because Julie Andrews can’t ever say anything truly bad about anyone or anything. Even her step-father, who really was quite creepy to her a couple of times (he gave her her first kiss, tongue and everything. Ew!), whom she was never really close to, she was unwilling to actually speak harshly about.

The other unintended side effect of that was that she tended to gush about everything. It was always “lovely” or “marvelous” or “exquisite” or “grand” or “delightful”, and sometimes all at once. I did get to the point in the book where I swore if she gushed about one. more. thing., I was going to toss it out the window. (I didn’t, even though she didn’t stop gushing.)

So, there you have it: Julie Andrew’s virtue of being nice to everyone is actually a fault when it comes down to it. At least in memoir writing.

Which is just too bad.