Minus Nine to One: the diary of an honest mum Jools Oliver Michael Joseph, 320pp, £14.99 ISBN 0718146832

Any woman who has ever felt bad about abandoning her career to embrace the world of yummy mummies will feel a reassuring pat on the back reading this account of pregnancy, birth and baby-raising. And yet, for any woman who has worried about deciding to go back to work, here is proof that it was the right choice. We are promised a humorous read, a personal view of motherhood as you've never known it. What we get is the result of someone having spent far too long with her head in glossy mags and working out how to portion pureed food into ice-cube trays. For her sanity and ours, Jools Oliver needs a job. Not one where she gets to use highlighter pens and make charts - as she did for her husband Jamie, pre-children - but one that really gets her hands dirty, with something other than baby poo.

For as long as she can remember, Jools has had two ambitions: to be a "brilliant wife and fantastic mother" and to write a book. She may have mastered the first - her lamb casserole excited her husband so much that she became pregnant with her second child for dessert - but she fails to show the same prowess with words.

This could have been a good read - it includes intimate descriptions of fertility drugs, panic attacks, bleeding and birth for which many expectant mothers will no doubt be grateful. But it is in serious need of an editor. Not a tummy rumble, tear or bowel movement is left out of this painfully detailed account, which is also littered with capital letters, brackets and a million exclamation marks on every page. Oliver tells us she didn't want to bore her friends senseless with tales of baby; if only she had shown the same concern for her readers. The danger of falling asleep and drowning in the bath - where Jools hopes you might read this book - is very real.

But her book will sell. She is Jamie Oliver's wife, after all, and who could resist a peek at what the cheeky chappie gets up to in bed? What's more, in our have-it-all culture, there is something refreshing about a thirtysomething woman who craves the simple things in life, such as the "pure joy" of a shopping trip, "the babies, the baking and the roses round the door". Jamie, Jools, Poppy and Daisy are the new Waltons: homely, earthy and full of decent family values. Even when Jools admits that her clandestine trips to the hardware store to chew rubber were an obsession, she hastens to add "not in a kinky way!".

Jools may perform her wifely and motherly duties with admirable gusto, but she is not quite as perfect as she hopes to be. "I am definitely not cut out to be a Stepford Wife just yet!" she laments. Well, Jools, given that you denied your husband sex for nine months for fear of banging the baby's head, you have a long way to go. There is a childlike naivety about her that is endearing but hard to believe. Does she really think her agent is taking a gamble with her on this book? How can she not have her tongue in her cheek when she dreams of being the woman in the film "decorating the nursery in paint-splattered jeans"? Is she really as clueless as she comes across?

Perhaps it's just a clever marketing trick. The Oliver brand - socially responsible and important as it is - is already a major business concern. It surely won't be long before Jools is hosting Tupperware parties for her National Childbirth Trust friends; product endorsement is just around the corner. Posh and Becks, watch out!

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