Eat, Pray, Love.

Never give up on something you can’t go a day without thinking about…

– Someone, somewhere, once.

I’ve been quite vocally critical of Elizabeth Gilbert ever since a good friend suggested I read her book ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ as it reminded her so much of my own story, or so she said.

I didn’t finish the book.

I ate, I kinda prayed and I threw the thing at a wall before falling in love. The book really irritated me. Really.

It irritated me initially, I think, because our stories (mine and Gilbert’s) were not similar, with the exception of a couple of foreign language faux pas and a few aeroplanes. I didn’t find them to be married in anyway. And as such failed to see the parallels that my friend was so convinced of. I was actually quite offended to be honest. I really didn’t like this book.

I have discussed ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ with so many people– from clients at work to strangers at bus stops, to my mother and my mothers friends, as well as own my friends (both writers and non-writers a like.) This book has come up in conversation a lot.

The thing, has, after all been a New York Times Paperback Non-Fiction Best Seller for some 155 weeks! Crickey. I know. Remarkable. As my manuscript still sits in a drawer. Well, actually, it sleeps next to me in bed. Though, I digress…

I think what I found so odious about Gilbert’s sweat was her lack of courage. She never struck me as brave in this book. Not once. She never said what she really, really thought (or meant) and all of her decisions were decided upon entirely by the needs and wants of the men in her life at the time. This really pissed me off. A lot. Infuriated me actually. And to be frank, I thought that she lacked a certain wisdom I come to demand in a writer. You have to know your shit. You have to be wise. And you don’t have to bang on and on and on about why things are the way they are. Trust yourself. Trust your audience. Keep your sentences short. Show, don’t tell.

Haha. Listen to me.

To be fair, I think Gilbert is an exceptionally compelling speaker and I really enjoy her feature articles. I just didn’t dig the book.

I have decided to write about Elizabeth Gilbert tonight though because, if I’m really honest I’ve begun to feel like quite the coward.

I go to work, everyday. I put the hours in. But I am still so, so, so afraid.

Of what and why and for how long is most certainly a blog for another time. But it’s fear. And it’s everywhere. All the time. Unless I’m drunk. Then it’s inspiration! And don’t the neighbors know it.

I have also decided to revisit the following clip today as I’m wrapped up in bed with the flu. Lucky flu. Lucky me.

It’s teeming rain by my window and a hot, sharp fever courses up and down my spine, arms and legs. My eyes have grown tired and prickly from typing even this much so far, which is why I must excuse myself shortly, but allow me just one more paragraph before I away to the land of chili chicken soup and tacky TV.

To my darling friend Jacob who forwarded me a link to this clip some moons ago now– as fodder for me during my treatment– I owe you an apology. A big one. I was quite seriously fucking furious at the world then and as such was dismissive of not only Elizabeth Gilbert, but of most things that came in the shape or form of anyone who was well. ‘Cause I wasn’t. I all but barked at you when this clip appeared on my Facebook wall one morning following yet another evening of no sleep and vomiting and nausea and so much  h  a  t  e… Which is a curious state of affairs now, really, as I almost wept when I revisited this today. What a difference a year makes, hey?

Still can’t stand the book though. x.

2 Responses to “Eat, Pray, Love.”
  1. Curious says:

    How does this relate to Leonard…?

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