It’s not often I say that I really disliked a book, but this was one of them...
At the age of thirty-one, Elizabeth Gilbert moved with her husband to the suburbs of New York and began trying to get pregnant, only to realize that she wanted neither a child nor a husband. Three years later, after a protracted divorce, she embarked on a yearlong trip of recovery, with three main stops: Rome, for pleasure (mostly gustatory, with a special emphasis on gelato); an ashram outside of Mumbai, for spiritual searching; and Bali, for "balancing."
I think the idea for the storyline had potential, it’s just that Gilbert made it in to a story designed to make housewives going through a mid-life crisis and who are depressed about their lives feel like they have hope. As a female approaching 30 I found that really insulting, and I hope that if I am ever faced with the situation of an unhappy marriage that I would not turn to an (unimaginative) novel for inspiration. The most depressing part about this is that as a ‘reflection of her life’ I can’t help but think that as soon as she gets home from her travels she will fall in to the same old traps and become unhappy again. She didn’t really learn anything, she just ate her way through depression then had a passionate affair to try and help her forget her broken relationship back home. Not very motivational I must say.
Now, I don’t think it is fair of me to say that I hated the WHOLE book –her adventures in Rome wasn’t totally unbearable to read through, but once she got to India I was practically in a boredom induced coma! So I pretty much skipped this whole section and went straight to Bali and woke up again slightly.
My advice to those interested in reading it is this: There has been so much hype about it that you are most likely going to read it. If you go in with a lower set of expectations than I did then maybe you won’t find it as sufferable as I did. All I know is that I NEVER throw away books, and this one went straight in to the local St Vinnies charity bin.
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