Eat, Pray, Love

Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert is an okay book. Gilbert did not stun me with how intimate or transparent she was in her writing about her year-long journey through Italy, India, and Indonesia. Quick rundown of the story: Gilbert gets a divorce from her husband, does not know who she is or what she wants to do with her now-single life. So, she decides to take a year off from New York City and spend 4 months in Italy eating pasta and learning about passion, 4 months in India learning about Yoga and finding spirituality, and 4 months in Indonesia figuring out the balance between passion and spirituality. Or something.

To me, the book read like a self-help book. But not a self-help book to help the reader, a self-help book for Elizabeth Gilbert. And, if it were to be a self-help book for the reader, how many people could follow Gilbert's plan and spend a year traveling the world "finding" themselves? So much of the book seemed trite, immature and shallow. I think her goal was to instill an amount of humor and lightness to what could be seen as a pretty depressing time in her life. Yes, there were funny parts, but it was not a humorous book.

One of the issues, I think, was Gilbert's aim to have a balance with each section of the book (country) she went to. Italy was fun to read about, wine, gelato, and touring, but it read much like a newly-graduated college girl experiencing her first trip away from the parents. The Indonesia (Bali) section was colorful to read and I could feel how relaxing it must have been for Gilbert to be there. Which brings us to India. India went on for entirely too long. I got it, it was hard for Gilbert to stop thinking and just meditate. She did not like the song they had to chant every morning. She thought the Yogic master was intimidating. I do not need to read each of these things every other chapter. There was very little "light" side in the India section. I wanted to read about the food she ate, any illnesses she suffered from, any quirky people at the ashram. Something other than how hard it is to meditate and whether she still loved Daniel (old boyfriend) or not. Grow up, Gilbert.

Now, I am going to put forth a disclaimer. Perhaps I went into the reading of this book with wrong expectations. I thought it was going to be a travel journal about different cultures, foods, practices, and lives as viewed from the eyes of an all-American girl. So, when I began to read, the book came off more like the entries in a teenage girl's diary than a 30-something woman taking a year to seek out the commonalities and positive and negative differences between her life and the lives people live in Italy, India, and Indonesia. All-in-all, this book is no Julie and Julia, Heat or The Know-It-All.