My fondness for Julie Andrews is no secret around these parts. Back in the early days of my babysitting experience, at the ripe young age of 12, I cared for two girls who absolutely adored Mary Poppins. I had never watched that movie prior to then, but I have since seen it dozens of time. In that same household, I saw The Sound of Music and realized my love for the British songstress/actress. To me, Julie Andrews is the very definition of grace and femininity. At the same time, she has an air of mischief about her that is undeniably fun and absolutely adorable. When I saw that she had an autobiography on the shelves, I squealed with joy and eagerly anticipated its arrival. Crusty gave me Home: A Memoir of My Early Years for my birthday and I have been reading it off and on ever since. Some of the few things I can say about this book are: it is a fantastic sedative, it is the epitome of British formality and charm, and it is almost 100% conflict and scandal-free. It is my humble opinion that if one is going to tell the story of their life, there should be at least a dash of intrigue, mystery or drama. Miss Andrews' story reads as a delightful peek into her personal diary and ends just prior to her leaving for America to film Mary Poppins. If you have an interest in the ins and outs of a childhood and young adulthood in musical theater, this book is for you. If not, well, I'd recommend someone else's autobiography.
MORAL OF THAT STORY: Sometimes you can judge a book by its cover.