Eat, Pray, Love
Who told me to read this book? Jenny, was it you? Postacademic, I don't think it was you, but you should read this book, if you haven't already.
Recovering from depression, divorce, and a disastrous relationship, Liz Gilbert spends a year in Italy, India, and Indonesia trying to find herself (and, yes, she does note that all those countries begin with the egotism of I). I know, sounds narcissistic, not to mention vaguely squirm-inducing when I add that the India leg is spent in an ashram under the (remote) tutelage of a guru. So if you feel like you don't want to go there on this one, well, don't.
But for me? Oh, this was such the book (though I did spend the first 100 pages feeling hideously jealous of Gilbert for the glamour of her life, and then feeling hideously guilty for being hideously jealous of a woman who spent four years crying, which of course gets to the heart of one of the book's central matters which is the question of how to accept yourself for who you are, which is such an enormous issue for me that you'll just have to take my word for it) (and as for the jealousy part, as I was reading, which I've been doing whenever I have a moment for the last week,E wanted to see what I had blogged a year ago, and this was what I blogged a year ago, suggesting that there have been moments of glamorous traveling excitement in my life, and also, of course, pointing to the relativity of everything).
So anyway, this book has food, partying, yoga, transcendence, friendship, romance, and a best friend who can cure a urinary tract infection in less than two hours. Come on, how can you go wrong? And she's funny, too. And strikes a great balance (theme of Indonesia section) between spiritual and self-deprecating (not quite sure self-deprecating is what I mean--I tried sarcastic, but that wasn't right either: it's like every time you think she's going too far, too mumbo jumbo, too narcissistic, she lets you know that she knows you think she's going too far, and she nicely punctures the moment, but without letting the air out, if that makes any sense).
Anyway, a few other things I loved, which are really all about me, or should I say I?
- At the end of her four months in Italy, she goes to Taormina. I went to Taormina! I loved Taormina (in a unseasonably warm October, so there were no tourists but it was still beachily delightful, and I was three months pregnant, so I couldn't drink, but the food, oh the food, and the Sicilyness of Sicily).
- She arrived in India on December 30. I arrived in India on December 30! Oh no, I think maybe it was December 31. Because I think I spent New Year's Eve on the train from Bombay to Delhi. Oh well, close enough.
- Her list of emotional discomforts: "jealousy, anger, fear, disappointment, loneliness, shame, boredom." Oh yeah. Not to mention her failed efforts not to talk so much. Yup, been there.
- The "American" road trip in Bali: one of the funniest things I've read in a while.
And to get uncharacteristically serious for a moment, I live in a constant struggle for self-acceptance, contentment, and compassion. Sometimes the struggle is too much for me, but this book made me feel up for it again.
[I don't know why these damn posts are all so long. I'm sorry these posts are so long. I know it's bad blog form--or rather I think it's bad blog form--but I just can't seem to help it.]
Recovering from depression, divorce, and a disastrous relationship, Liz Gilbert spends a year in Italy, India, and Indonesia trying to find herself (and, yes, she does note that all those countries begin with the egotism of I). I know, sounds narcissistic, not to mention vaguely squirm-inducing when I add that the India leg is spent in an ashram under the (remote) tutelage of a guru. So if you feel like you don't want to go there on this one, well, don't.
But for me? Oh, this was such the book (though I did spend the first 100 pages feeling hideously jealous of Gilbert for the glamour of her life, and then feeling hideously guilty for being hideously jealous of a woman who spent four years crying, which of course gets to the heart of one of the book's central matters which is the question of how to accept yourself for who you are, which is such an enormous issue for me that you'll just have to take my word for it) (and as for the jealousy part, as I was reading, which I've been doing whenever I have a moment for the last week,E wanted to see what I had blogged a year ago, and this was what I blogged a year ago, suggesting that there have been moments of glamorous traveling excitement in my life, and also, of course, pointing to the relativity of everything).
So anyway, this book has food, partying, yoga, transcendence, friendship, romance, and a best friend who can cure a urinary tract infection in less than two hours. Come on, how can you go wrong? And she's funny, too. And strikes a great balance (theme of Indonesia section) between spiritual and self-deprecating (not quite sure self-deprecating is what I mean--I tried sarcastic, but that wasn't right either: it's like every time you think she's going too far, too mumbo jumbo, too narcissistic, she lets you know that she knows you think she's going too far, and she nicely punctures the moment, but without letting the air out, if that makes any sense).
Anyway, a few other things I loved, which are really all about me, or should I say I?
- At the end of her four months in Italy, she goes to Taormina. I went to Taormina! I loved Taormina (in a unseasonably warm October, so there were no tourists but it was still beachily delightful, and I was three months pregnant, so I couldn't drink, but the food, oh the food, and the Sicilyness of Sicily).
- She arrived in India on December 30. I arrived in India on December 30! Oh no, I think maybe it was December 31. Because I think I spent New Year's Eve on the train from Bombay to Delhi. Oh well, close enough.
- Her list of emotional discomforts: "jealousy, anger, fear, disappointment, loneliness, shame, boredom." Oh yeah. Not to mention her failed efforts not to talk so much. Yup, been there.
- The "American" road trip in Bali: one of the funniest things I've read in a while.
And to get uncharacteristically serious for a moment, I live in a constant struggle for self-acceptance, contentment, and compassion. Sometimes the struggle is too much for me, but this book made me feel up for it again.
[I don't know why these damn posts are all so long. I'm sorry these posts are so long. I know it's bad blog form--or rather I think it's bad blog form--but I just can't seem to help it.]
posted by Becca at
12:17 AM
5 Comments:
See, now I don't think it's too long. I think if you can write well (which you can, and then some) then I'll follow along the path of each perfect word to get to the end (which I do.)
Must read this book. And stop crying. I must stop crying, already.
By
Anonymous, at 6:23 AM
I just finished this book and felt the same as you. I was surprised at how good it was- and have no idea who recommended the book to me so I can thank them.
By
Chris, at 10:41 AM
Yes, I did recommend it, though I expect other people told you to read it too! Good, eh? But did you see the recent announcement that it's going to be made into a movie that's a self-described Julia Roberts vehicle?!?
By
Anonymous, at 3:45 PM
this post makes me want to read. and it makes me want to read this book. and now i read your blog...hmmm
By
Anonymous, at 6:59 PM
I love long blog posts and often write them myself. And yeah, this book is going to be a Julia Roberts movie. I love Julia Roberts, myself, and one of the many reasons is that her big goofy guffaw of a laugh made me finally love my own awkwardly loud and raucous laugh. So yeah, self-acceptance is a big struggle for me too! I read a review of this book in Oprah's magazine and thought it sounded interesting, but your review made me want to read it more!
By
jackie, at 9:01 PM
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