Tuesday, June 17, 2008
OK, I'm reading a chick book. I just finished a Nick Hornby book, so I guess it's a cosmic balancing of sorts that I've now chosen "Eat. Pray. Love." as my next tome.
I'm about a third of the way through it, and am really ambivalent so far. I've heard sooooo freakin' much about it - "It will change your life", "What a spiritual, sensual book", "What a self-absorbed b----!" and other assorted comments of praise and derision.
So far, I've found myself caught up in her tantalizing descriptions of Italy and the delicious food, trying to empathize with her neurotic struggles, and also really disliking her for her rationale for dumping her husband and her subsequent boyfriend, and for declaring this cross-continental adventure to be some kind of spiritual quest when her publisher is footing the bill for her year-long trek.
I'm gonna stick it out. At least through India. I've already been told that when she gets to Indonesia, she falls in love - again - God bless all the men she dumped because they were too boring for her. I really don't need a Cinderella meets her prince ending, which sort of makes the travels through the first two hundred pages feel a little empty, but I hate giving up on a book. I think that's why I write short stories - I can't bear the thought that someone would start reading my novel only to put it down after sixty pages.
So, for now - I'm reading about Liz eating...then she's gonna pray. So far, I'm still with her. Wish me luck when she gets to 'love', because it might be where I cast her aside, reclaim my Y chromosome and pick up some Cormac McCarthy ("No Country for Old Men").
Hmmm...maybe she'll meet up with Anton Chigur on her way home.
Call it, Friend-o.