Amy Sue Nathan

Eat, pray, give me a break

I’m on page 92 of Elizabeth Gilbert’s smash, run-around-the-world-for-a-year hit memoir, Eat Pray Love.

A friend of mine laughed when she heard I was reading it.

“You won’t be able to get through it,” she said.

I resisted reading it because I never read the best-sellers when they’re best-selling. I never believe the hype and I never-ever want to be caught in a coffee klatch where everyone is reading the same book and referring to “that Elizabeth Gilbert,” while they’re slapping their knee or laughing over Gilbert’s early morning forays with gelato as we sip our Columbian light roast in a suburban coffee shop that has broken toys on the floor and a chalk board on the wall, and where the only call to see the light is when someone’s kid can’t reach the switch in the bathroom.

But I’ll admit Gilbert’s book is making me laugh. I actually called my daughter over and had her sit with me while I read her a page and a half about pizza. Now she wants pizza for dinner and I can’t say I blame her. Gilberts humor is delightful and her writing is rich and evocative. I mean, I could smell the damn pizza. My mouth was watering while I was reading it. She is having a good time and we’re with her in Italy, so much so that I’m reading — or trying to read — the Italian words in her book aloud so that I can share in her delight of the language.

But I’ve got to be honest, I don’t like her very much. And I won’t say it’s nothing personal. It’s completely personal.

I don’t envy her travels. I have no travel-bug. I don’t begrudge her success in writing a best-seller. I don’t begrudge anyone anything. If I did, frankly, I’d spend every day just going through list upon list of things I want that other people have. It’s not worth it and begrudging usually means not only do you want it, but you’re pissed as hell that someone else has it.

I do think she is completely self-indulgent.  And while that’s her prerogative and no one is holding a gun to my head forcing me to read this book,  I see her, so far, as selfish and untrustworthy.  And who likes someone like that?

I wonder about the people, women I imagine, who have built emotional shrines in Gilbert’s honor. If I’d have cried on the floor of the bathroom night after night before getting divorced, I would not have ended up with a trip to Italy, I’d have ended up with sore knees and bags under my eyes and someone banging on the door needing to get in to pee.  Elizabeth Gilbert had God speak to her.  I’d have had kids yelling at me through the crack under the door.  Gilbert found herself.  I’d have gone to find the waffles in the depths of the freezer.

I wonder what Gilbert would have done if someone else needed her for something while her life was falling apart. How many family members and friends did she fail? If no one counted on her to begin with, that says a lot about someone.

I don’t see her as the heroine in her book, so far I see her as the villain. Someone who takes what she wants and leaves it when she’s done, with everyone else to clean up the mess.

All the pieces fell into place for Gilbert — at least they have up to page 92 — and for that she is very lucky. But I was looking for special, not lucky. Anyone can heal themselves if they’re so inclined, especially if they are also inclined with enough money to live on and no responsibilities other than to document your own life and living it the way you choose.

I guess I’m disappointed. Not in the writing or the story-telling — and these days that’s mostly why I read — for the how’s as opposed to the what’s.

But if Gilbert would have carried a backpack full of bricks with her through her travels, that she could never put down, how would she have fared? Would she have delighted in her anonimity in Italy if it was laden with counting pennies (or whatever Italians count) as she paid for each gelato?  If her international posse would have shunned her for not being Italian, would she have always reveled in being alone?

Triumph, I was expecting triumph. Yoo hoo, anybody seen Triumph?  Nope didn’t think so.  But there’s no hardship here, which is what you need in order to triumph. She got divorced. YAWN. It was a bad divorce. Double yawn. She makes no bones about the fact that her next relationship overlapped the end of her marriage. She was never alone. Yes, she was depressed, yes she had setbacks.

None of this makes her unique.

The fact that she can write about it so eloquently, and with such candor (candor in the sense of not masking the fact that she is fortunate) is what makes her unique.  

I like the women I read about to be brave and strong, to overcome adversity even if it’s adversity at their own hand.  I like to read about real life situations and many of the best of those, come to fruition, in fiction. 

I do know, and respect, that Gilbert isn’t giving us every sordid detail.  So I’m making assumptions – which isn’t always nice – but is certainly my prerogative based on what I’ve read so far. 

All I can say is that if someone wanted to take care of everything in my life for a year, pay me well, and pack my bags, I wouldn’t go.  I would fight my demons where they found me.  Hell, I have. 

Plus, my personal guru is Dorothy Gale.

 “If I ever go looking for my heart’s desire, I won’t look any further than my own backyard, because if it isn’t there, I never really lost it to begin with.”