We gave it a B-
Joan Sewell would rather eat chocolate, read a good book, read a not-so-good book, maybe even scrub the sink. In other words: not tonight, dear. In I’d Rather Eat Chocolate, her alternately shameless and brave tell-all, Sewell dishes about her profound indifference, bordering on distaste, for sex, a condition she thinks many women will relate to. The issue almost ended her marriage, landed her on a therapist’s couch, and led to some tortured dealmaking with her husband. (”I’ve got my pornography,” he tells her at one point. ”That’ll be enough.”) Fessing up to a low libido may be a sexy new topic, but Sewell’s TMI account is also TLA: too little analysis.