Eat, Pray, and, Please, Shut the Hell Up

Did I read Eat, Pray, Love while I was in Bali? Guilty as charged. While the timing was a little cheesy [I know, more than a little] ,I figured what better time was there really to figure out what all the fuss was about. So many women loved this book, I figured I should give it a go.

I actually read a lot of memoirs. More specifically, I read a lot of Rock n' Roll memoirs. I challenge anyone to read Motley Crue's The Dirt and not 1. Laugh hysterically [thank you Tommy] and 2. Fall deeply and madly in love with Nikki Sixx. However, I find the key to enjoying most memoirs is liking the person who is writing it, or at least finding some part of them endearing, funny, or interesting. How on earth could anyone like anything about Elizabeth Gilbert??????

I have never read anything by anyone so completely and totally enamored with themselves. [Ok, maybe Crazy Like the Heat by David Lee Roth comes close, but he gave us "Hot for Teacher" AND "Panama" AND almost made it to the top of Mt. Everest, so I'm going to give the man a pass.] At the start of the book she thinks she sees a good friend passing through an office she's waiting in. Guess who this person she is so excited to see it? Yup, it's HERSELF. This woman is looking at herself in a mirror. This gave me a small indication of what a unique, special, and wonderful snowflake she thinks she is. She also doesn't find anything about herself funny or silly. Every single problem she has is so important and serious. She claims to have more than one metaphysical crisis. When I went to go see Patti Smith a few years ago she made fun of herself between almost every song and was way hilarious. This woman is the Godmother of Punk Rock. I think that is pretty serious, but not serious enough to view the world without a funny bone. Besides, there are so many, many ridiculous things about Ms. Gilbert that she seems to be completely unaware of.

And why does she have to flee New York to eat spaghetti, chant in India, and hang out in Bali? Because she doesn't want to be married anymore. Ok, I'm sure divorces are incredibly painful and more awful than I can imagine. However, after most women get divorced don't they just have to go back to their crappy jobs and try to get over it? I don't see how so many people find this woman who was paid by her publishers to toot around the globe for a year at all relatable. But worst of all, she seems to think that her ensuring her own personal happiness is somehow doing God's work, making the universe a better place. I mean how could anything be right on planet Earth if Liz Gilbert is bummed out? I am certainly not an authority, but isn't God maybe a little busy with some other more important stuff to be all that concerned with the self absorption and depression of one extremely whiney little lady in NYC?

In one part of the book she finds herself shaking like a leaf in a bathroom at a dinner party repeating "I don't want this to be my life", "I don't want this to be life". What causes her such fear and anxiety? She watches a new mother give a dinner party and she looked sleepy. She also had dishes to do. She also leaked some breast milk on her fabulous cocktail dress. Oh heavens! Run, Liz! Run! Did no one tell this woman about The Pill or The Sponge? Or even the Pull and Pray Method? The last one seems like it should actually be right up her alley.

Lastly, did no one else find it all a little bit convenient, or even extremely contrived, that she went to go chant in a cave in India and happened to actually find God and then go to Bali and find a smoldering Latin Lover within weeks [the part about eating a lot of pasta in Italy I didn't really have any doubts about]? Hey, I don't know. Maybe she really is that much of a unique, special, and wonderful snowflake. Or is it possible she convinced herself she found God and decided to shack up with an older Brazilian guy because she was on a deadline and needed a story arc for her book? What makes The Dirt such a better read is that you know those boys were not hanging out with groupies and getting obliterated on a variety of illegal substances because they wanted to get a book deal. They were just straight up nuts and then they wrote a book about it. This makes it a far more honest and entertaining read. Whatever, maybe I just have a case of sour grapes. When I went to Bali I all I found was Bintang [Indonesian beer], no Jarvier Bardem. All, I know is I'm going back to reading the Sookie Stackhouse series. Sookie doesn't take herself too seriously at all and occasionally makes me chuckle. And really, who can resist sexy vampires?