Before reading this, I did not know who Gabrielle Hamilton was, though I had probably seen her as a guest judge on a cooking competition show. Yet 1/3 into the book, I was fascinated and I had to look her up, check out her restaurant's menu and find out other information and images that would help me reconcile what I was reading. Hamilton's work is forthright and candid. The tell-it-like-it-is style felt like this was a close friend that was pouring out her life story to me while we sipped wine and ate small bites of luscious food. 
 This method of memoir writing, combined with the focus on food, love gone bad, new love, new love gone bad, more food and family, completely sucked me in. I wanted her to succeed. I got irked when she got irked. I felt her pain and joy and peace. This is the sort of book that I think people take different things away from. The overall arch for me was Gabrielle's desire to be accepted. Based on the reviews, sales figures, and the other people I have heard talking about this book, Hamilton has strongly succeeded in being accepted as an author. I liked this book for similar reasons why I like Bourdain's titles. When a driven chef with a colorful past/present/future can also put words together in a way that moves the reader, that is a beautiful thing.