Pages: 331
Finished: September 20
I would like to clear up a few things before I talk about this book. I am a little embarrassed that I read this book. I didn't read it because of the movie, and I didn't really read it because of all the hype. Mostly, I wanted to know what the big deal was, and I can't say that I really discovered it.
The premise seems like something that I should like. A woman writes a book about her journey through Italy, India, and Bali, recovering from a difficult divorce. I should even find commonalities between myself and Ms. Gilbert; we both are independent women, I am also not sure if I will ever really be ready to settle down and raise a family, we both like to travel. But there, I think, the similarities end.
I found the author to be overly sensitive, over-emotional, selfish, and often just grating. I know that many people appreciate her sense of humor, but I often didn't get it. I liked many of her stories, but she often fell back in to period of introspection that made me want to punch her in the face. I would have liked it if she had stuck to stories from her travels and left the deep spiritual conversations out of it. Not because I don't appreciate spirituality, but because I found her to be contrived and fake.
I don't want to read about the conversations that she had with herself written in a journal. They made me feel awkward, and creeped out. I don't want to read about her deep meditation, though I would rather hear about that then her conversations with "The god inside her" or whatever. I don't really appreciate the idea of a bunch of white people thinking that they have to go to India to really experience enlightenment. I find it pretentious.
But there were parts that I really enjoyed. I loved her stories of people that she meets and things that she does. I enjoy stories of difficulties and funny things that happen. I like the characters that she creates.
Last summer, right before I left the States, I went to visit my grandparents in upstate New York. My grandfather's wife...is this really nice old lady named Gale, in her eighties now. She hauled out this old photo album and showed me pictures from the 1930s, when she was eighteen years old and went on a trip to Europe for a year with her two best friends and a guardian. She's flipping through these pages, showing me these amazing old photographs of Italy, Venice. I go, 'Gale-who's the hottie?' She goes, 'That's the son of the people who owned the hotel where we stayed in Venice. He was my boyfriend.' I go, 'Your boyfriend?' And my grandfather's sweet wife looks at me all sly and her eyes get all sexy like Bette Davis, and she goes, 'I was tired of looking at churches, Liz.'
Personally, the book didn't do much for me. I guess I'm glad that I read it, because now I know what everyone is talking about. It's certainly not something that I would really recommend to anyone else.
Good Reading,
Caitlin
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