The book is packed like a wicker picnic basket with folksy sides, self-deprecating jokes and down-to-earth Oklahoma-girl verve.
She's got her own agenda, she's flawed but powerful, she's funny, she's independent and she's nobody's fool.
I think Sorkin thinks he's recreating that kind of dynamic in various aspects of , you don't just end up with the kind of sexist mess that Sorkin has here, where women are neurotic, tech-incompetent emotional morons who snap into professionalism just in time to make the men they bolster look good.
(Both her best friend and her manager are gay.) Don't come looking here for dirt: She is tactfully demure about many genuinely personal things, though she charmingly alludes to a gymnastics accident that has made her private parts—already credited as the source of her vocal strength—especially sensitive to impending rain.
("What man in his right mind dumps a woman with a singing, weather-predicting hoo hoo?
To her detractors—and all great stars have them—she is overly sweet and disturbingly peppy, the Broadway equivalent of Pop Rocks candy. Count me among the fans, and all the more so after reading the surprisingly fresh and engaging In Joni Rodgers, Chenoweth has found an ideal writer partner; not only does the book speed along at a spiffy clip, caroming through her life story with charm and humor, but it manages to always stay in character.