Today I got a reminder that an opinion is an opinion is an opinion. A dear friend of mine wrote a hilariously wicked review of a book I recommended here, and to so many folks, Eat, Pray, Love. I just had to include her review, as it not only is well written but provides some quality insight I don’t absolutely agree with, but most definitely respect.
Sorting my thoughts out on this book was like having two sides of me arguing against each other. Here are some thoughts and my own rebuttals…it’s not an essay, just fragments of ideas. I think that Elizabeth is taking this broken marriage to hell and back with some high drama and fake eyelashes. Wailing in the bathroom at night? Wants to travel the world and not have kids? Hey, me too! But then again, I haven’t been through a broken marriage. I do, however, remember feeling quite low and dramatic when a couple of my relationships ended. If I had thought of wailing, I would have tried it. And had I the money, I definitely would have eaten pizza in Italy, meditated at an Indian ashram, and allowed myself to be adored by a wealthy older Brazilian. OK, so being able to go through your emotions without judgment from others is legal. But what about her husband? She tries to be so polite by saying she’s not going to comment on him and their marriage but then she throws in a few zingers like how he turned nasty in the divorce and how she gave everything to him just so the divorce could be over. So of course, she is the victim and the martyr. So high-minded. Things went well in Italy, where all she did was eat and try to speak Italian. I even liked the fact that she skipped some classes. But what the hell kind of crazy happened in India? I’m a little annoyed by people traveling to the other side of the earth just to close their eyes and be quiet. I imagine that in their normal lives, these people talk too much, are bossy, opinionated, and completely ADHD. But hey, if you need to spend ridiculous amounts of money and time in order to shut up and realize that you are not the center of the universe, then the rest of the world is better off for it. I don’t, however, want to hear about it! There are a lot of good people in this world who have reached the same “enlightenment” that our dear Elizabeth or have just grown up like that so an ashram is definitely not necessary. And you know what, I resent how someone’s self-proclaimed enlightenment is like a snub to everybody else. Can we not all find pleasure, spirituality, and love in our own backyard? Unfortunately, the writing is pretty good. There is a mix of Elizabeth’s emotional state and story, a look into three other cultures, colorful characters, cultural comments, and historical anecdotes. I just didn’t want to like it because the writer is a woman. And she’s successful. And she has an apt in NY. And she has a house in CT. And she has been paid to travel the world and write about it. Oh…and she accomplished all these things at approximately the same age that I am now. Man, is my jealousy ugly. When I pretended that the author was male, I found myself appreciating the writing and the experiences expressed sooooo much more. Sigh. What a great feminist I am. Speaking about traveling the world and getting paid to write about it…is it just me or is it odd that you could be in such a muck-ish time of your life (remember the wailing) yet still pitch your story to an editor? I mean, to read about it, this woman’s life is being torn apart by blood-hungry wolves and she is struggling so hard that she has to turn to anti-depressants…but she has the foresight to know that she will be able to find what she needs through travel? That within a year, she will have emerged a better person? That she will be able to unearth something about herself? That this book will have a happy ending?? By the way, that happy ending was so lame and artificial! Gross! The section on Indonesia found our girl more firmly grounded and getting her groove on. Yuck! You know, everything in life is about timing. If we had caught Miss Elizabeth on the day of her wedding to her first husband, we would have been persuaded that this was going to be the most fabulous relationship ever. So what makes us believe that she has learned anything? At first, I wanted to give her credit because if somebody is going to be that honest about their depression, naive spiritual quest, and lovemaking…if somebody was going to put it all in print and stand up straight in face of all the predictable criticism and ridicule…then that person can take the money that comes with the book deal. Then I thought, no. This “memoir” is so artificially crafted. Three countries that begin with “I”? The three avenues of feeding the body and soul via food, prayer, and love? That she would be successful in her endeavors in each country? No do-overs? No failures? Come on…this woman is laughing with us all the way to the bank! I don’t want to be a bummer but this is how my memoir would have gone: Italy: I find myself in Southern Italy where people are poor and families struggle to put food on the table. I become depressed and stop eating myself. India: I walk through the streets unnerved by the poverty and unwavering religiousness of the people. I look at Westerners visiting ashrams and am repulsed. I lose faith in humanity. Indonesia: I stay in a “cottage” and freak out over large rodents visiting me at night. I pick at my mosquito bites and cry.
